The Worst Kind of Text

At the gym this morning, I almost cried.  I don’t mean that in a figurative way either; I literally had to pause and fight back tears.

The news story that was being reported was regarding the shooting that occurred last night at Florida State University.  They were describing what happened and showing photos that the students had taken with their cell phones as they were barricaded in their classrooms.   Tables, chairs, anything that they could find they had moved to block the doors.  You could see students huddled together and talking on their cell phones.  They mentioned that many of the students sent texts to their parents and loved ones.  They showed one in particular; a girl had texted the following to her mom:

“There’s a man with a gun in the library.  I love you.”

As soon as I read that, I immediately felt sick to my stomach; it took my breath away.  Stop for a second and think about that…imagine what it would be like if you were going about your evening and you received that text from your child.  It’s terrifying.  And it's becoming all to common. 

We as parents spend the greater part of two decades shepherding and watching over our children.  We keep them fed, clothed, and protected.  Mama (or Papa) Bear is never too far away and can be ready for battle at a moment’s notice if our children are endangered in any way.  And then we send them away.  We send our precious babies out into a big, scary world…alone.    

I had a small glimpse of it when John moved out last year.  It was very strange to see him (via Facebook) with people and in places that were foreign to me.  It was just such a new concept, not knowing what he was doing.  It was awful when he got sick.  It was bad enough when I thought he had the flu.  It was the first time he had been sick away from home and I wanted to jump in the car and take him some homemade soup!  It was magnified a hundredfold when we realized that it was a much more significant illness.  Not being there?  Not being able to immediately and practically help him through it?  The endless guessing game and hours of conversations with my Mr. trying to determine when was the appropriate time to step in?  Hearing pain in my son’s voice over the phone?  It was terrible.  I have never felt more helpless in my entire life.

I’ve heard people say over and over that you just have to “give them to the Lord,” and that “He’s got them in His hands.”  I know that in my head.  I believe that He loves them far more than I ever could, which really is beyond comprehension.  I believe that nothing is going to surprise Him.  But I also know that He quite routinely allows horrific things to happen to those He loves.  Therefore the whole “giving them to the Lord” idea feels a bit like a Sunday School answer to me.   I know that praying for them is what I’m supposed to do.  And I do.  I really do. But it just doesn’t feel like enough.  Knowing the evils of the world and the crap that life deals you sometimes, I find it very difficult to reconcile the hands-off approach with my mother’s heart.  

They’re grown.  One is gone and the other will be out of here in nine months.  They are independent.  And that’s how it should be.  But when my phone rings (or I get a text) and I see that it’s from one of them, the excitement of hearing from them is always momentarily delayed as I wonder what might be wrong.  I inadvertently cringe inside for a slit-second until I hear that everything is okay.   Maybe that will lessen in time; we’ll have to wait and see.  It's not like I"m going to love them any less or the world is going to suddenly get better.

Growing up is hard. 
Stepping aside to let them grow up?  That’s even harder.