parenting reminds me I need Jesus

I wish that I had a couple lives to live.

Maybe then there would be enough time to learn from my mistakes. To change the course. To turn the tide.

Maybe then I could see the storm before it hits, predict the lightning before it strikes.

It turns out, parenting is just another experiment.

And, when you get some hindsight, a little distance in the race itself, certain aspects become more clear. But you’ve already turned the corner when you realize you could have taken a different route.

It’s a frustrating reality. This bigger picture. This scope.

And the longer I parent alone, the more I realize that single parenting is not the ideal. (That’s not shocking news, I know.) 

There’s just so much room for error. 

There’s no back up.  No one else to receive the highs or the lows or the eye rolls or the aching and pushing for freedom that teens are experiencing. There’s not another level-headed adult in the same space who can tag you out and take the lead on that discussion, that rule, that low grade, that lousy decision, that stack of poorly chosen words.

It’s a heavy weight – this task, this gloriously beautiful burden of being the grown up in a family. 

All of these faces around me are the daily reminder that I need Jesus. Oh goodness, how I do.

The hymns are not speaking hyperbole when they say, “Every hour I need Thee”.

That’s what parenting has taught me. The music is true. The lyrics are accurate. 

If it weren’t for kids, I might think I could handle my own life. I might forget I need a holy and rescuing savior.

Jesus, draw me ever nearer. Bind my wandering heart to thee. Rock of ages, cleft for me.

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