I am sliding folded laundry into drawers in the dark when his empty bed catches my eye.
His pinstriped sheets are still rumpled in a wad at the foot of the mattress. His faded old comforter dangles carelessly off the edge of the top bunk. His pillow holds a splotch of moonlight that’s slipped in through that window with the broken blinds.
I wonder if he’s sleeping now. Or lying awake like he so often does, his mind abuzz.
Tonight he’s bedded down in a stark hotel room just a state to the south. But before dawn’s first light, he’ll board a plane headed for Honduras. Tomorrow he’ll be a world away.
I wonder what he will do on his first mission trip, how he will respond to the sick and the hurting lined up to visit with his dad and the other doctors who are there to serve in the name of Jesus. I wonder if he’ll move boldly through the masses or hang back in the shadows.
We’d packed soccer balls to share with the locals. Jump ropes. Coloring books. He had worried how he would communicate. AndI’d assured him that play is a language common to all the children of the world.
The sheets on his bed in this warm house on top of the hill are covered in a faded pattern of balls of all shapes and sizes. I smooth a wrinkle out of the soccer ball on his pillow case and try to picture my thirteen-year-old kicking one of those in the dust and dirt of Honduras. I imagine the beautiful brown children who might flank to his side, eager to play.
I pray for him as I fluff the pillow. I have no doubt that my son will receive far more than he gives in the week to come.
That’s just the miracle of God’s economy. When we give away our blessings like a hot potato in a nursery school game, our hands our emptied to be filled. We can’t out-give the giver of Life.
The green glow of the clock reads 10:15, and I wonder if he’s talking to his dad in the dark of their hotel room. If he’s lying awake, knowing he should sleep, but unable to turn off his scattered thoughts. This is the hour when I think of him most, the day’s end when he hollers from bed while the little ones sleep. Hollers to come so he can share one last thought. Ask one more question. Present one final argument. These are the moonlight hours with my firstborn that can be both blessing and burden, gift and thorn.
It’s ironic that tonight when I could make my way to bed without being called to his, I find myself climbing onto those old blue sheets and stretching out where my boy-turning-into-a-man usually lies. I find myself staring out the window with the broken blinds and confessing my own brokenness to the Lord. And asking that my boy’s heart will be broken, too. Broken for the things of God.
I think about the words that have bounced between us on this top bunk while his little brother breathes deep in sleep below. Think of the way he wrestles in words and tries to make sense of this life we’re living.
“Why don’t we ever buy ourselves cool stuff?” he had asked one night as I’d leaned close in the darkness to bid him good-night.
“What do you mean?” I’d replied, shocked that the question could have come from one so steeped in abundance.
“Like we just don’t buy stuff for ourselves,” he’d repeated in a tone of casual annoyance. “Except for at Christmas.”
Now and then this child of mine tells me about friends who have ten T.V.s and huge bedrooms. Video games and movie theaters. I remember once walking into a new friend’s kitchen and being struck with envy over the huge table that could have seated an army with space to spare. What holes compel us to take inventory of someone else’s blessings rather than to count our own?
“What kind of cool stuff are you talking about?” I’d asked, voice taut, trying to hide my knee-jerk alarm.
“Oh, you wouldn’t understand,” he’d muttered, turning his head toward the wall and punching his mattress with a sigh.
I had wanted to slay his discontent with words. To spew a list of all the cool stuff that lined our toy shelves and bedroom closets. Stuff I would have died to have at his age. I’d wanted to douse his envy with a double-length lecture on ingratitude, but my heart was in my throat. My stomach lurched as if the lower bunk on which I stood was sinking fast. I can’t fill those holes in his heart. We’ll never be able to appease his appetite for more.
While my son had sunk into moody silence, I’d thought about that mom who had sat beside me on the bleachers of a stuffy gym.
“I just want to give my kids the world,”she had confided with a flint of fierce determination (or was it desperation?) in her eyes.
I had nodded my head in understanding, had remembered feeling the same way when my firstborn was plopped in my arms, a bundle of wiggles and pink flesh. But as I’d sat in the noisy gym that day, surrounded by the thump of bouncing basketballs and the cheers of committed parents, a frightening question had tugged at the corners of my mind.
What if, in giving my children the world, I merely tether them to it? Bind them to the very void they’re trying to fill. Chain them to the stuff of dust and disappointment, while God stands by with the stuff of hope and dreams.
“Tell them to go after God, who piles on all the riches we could ever manage—to do good, to be rich in helping others, to be extravagantly generous. If they do that, they’ll build a treasury that will last, gaining life that is truly life.” I Tim 6:18-20
I’d realize it then. The quiet shift inside of me. I don’t know how to live out the change, but I ache with a longing to try.
I don’t want to give my children the world. I just want to give them a heart for the world.”
For God so loved the world…. John 3:16
“Are you gonna pray for me, Mom?” The bleachers had faded as the impatient boy in the top bunk demanded my attention. I ‘d placed hands on my firstborn’s tousled hair and prayed as we do each night. May Luke grow as Jesus did. In wisdom and stature and favor with you, God, and man.
His unanswered question loomed large between us. “Why don’t we ever buy ourselves cool stuff?”
I’d pictured the hole in our blue plaid couch and thought about the holes in my heart, too.
I had felt like I should say something more, that I should try to explain the mystic way God fills us up when our hands are empty.
Or tell this boy fighting to become a man just how long I’ve struggled with my own thirst for this world.
I’d wondered if I should confess that I might be messing it all up- doing this whole life wrong. And messing him up in the process.
I’d considered confessing that my worst fear is the thought that one day I might finally wake up and realize I’ve never truly lived, that I’ve been so weighted down with the American Dream that I have failed to fly.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also…” -Matt 6:19-21
I’d smoothed his hair and prayed for wisdom. His little sister had screamed shrill from her crib and the dog scratched impatiently at the front door. I’d given his tense shoulders one final squeeze and had whispered, “I love you.”
Some battles can’t be fought with words. Some victories are only gained by The Word.
And so tonight that’s where I’ll leave him, my mini-man who is not mine to keep. I’ll leave him in the arms of the Living Word. And as a shaft of du
sty moonlight dances across the top bunk, I’ll ask the Lord to give my firstborn a heart for the world that defies words or reason… beginning in a little country called Honduras.
The Overflow: “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again.”-John 3:16 Still counting those gifts. Won’t you join me?
771. Suitcase stuffed with soccer balls and jump ropes. 772. Luke’s sense of adventure as he packs kleenex packs for those toilet-paper-less places in the mountains of Honduras. 773. Blue scrubs sitting on top of the luggage pile. 774. God’s love for the world. 775. God’s love for my children.
776. Chains beginning to fall, one link at a time.
777. A phone call from Honduras. The sound of screeching roosters in the background. God’s great big world!
778. Absence that makes our hearts grow fonder. Hannah’s bedtime summary: “Our family’s just not right without the big boys here.” 779. God’s promise- His word NEVER returns void.
Jen, I TOTALLY agree. I’m with you. I think I envy other people’s “got it togetherness” far more than their stuff. And, yeah… all because of my holes. So glad Jesus is in the process of filling those holes in us. Wish it were a bit quicker process. Thanks for inviting me into the “sisterhood” 🙂 of women chasing after Jesus at SDG
This question: What holes compel us to take inventory of someone else’s blessings rather than to count our own?
Even more than those physical things we covet, I also find myself envying someone else’s emotional state or their relationship. And it’s all because of my own holes. What a profound question. SO glad you are SDG tonight.
I am bawling! I will pray hard for your boys! You have prepared Luke well…what teenage boy wouldn’t envy a few things of the world…what 38 mom…wouldn’t envy what others have (talking of me!)….on occasion. It’s our human nature! I know from experience that stuff is not what brings happiness! I remember when we were in Mexico, and we saw a little boy playing in the dirt. He was covered in dust! My inlaws, felt so sorry for him…where were his toys??? I looked at his eyes..and I saw happiness! A happiness I don’t often see from kids with video games and long boards! I couldn’t help but to thing back when I was a kid…and played in the mud…and I am sure others ridiculed my parents for having so many kids when they couldn’t provide the worldly wants! I simply replied to my inlaws…Sometimes the greatest happiness can come from playing with dirt…as long as there is LOVE AT HOME! 🙂 LOVE YOU! Thinking and praying for your families safety!
I’d love to hear more about your trips to Honduras. Thanks for the prayers. Yesterday my boys ministered to a village of people in the mountains. The town canceled school and turned the school into a med clinic. Word of mouth brought the crowds. Luke played hours of soccer with the kids and Rob was able to treat 150 patients! He reported that it was a WONDERFUL day. Amazing what we take for granted here.. doctors, schools, food…. Fodder for thanks, no doubt. Thanks again for the prayers.
Tara, so glad you stopped by to share the journey today. I love how you describe the way we “carry” our children… “heart full of my own boy”- yes, that’s exactly what makes parenthood so rich and challenging, isn’t it- it all comes down to the heart. Blessings to you and your boy, too.
So true. We shouldn’t give our children the world. We should give them a heart for the world. But the battle to keep the priorities straight is so fierce.
Having taken my family to Honduras twice in the last three years to work at an orphanage, I can picture the kids your son will meet, the health conditions he will find, and the miserable state of education he might uncover. Tonight I will pray for your family too because Honduras is dear to my heart. And because being a mom makes understand the thoughts of other moms in powerful ways.
I’d realize it then. The quiet shift inside of me. I don’t know how to live out the change, but I ache with a longing to try. 
And so tonight that’s where I’ll leave him, my mini-man who is not mine to keep. I’ll leave him in the arms of the Living Word. And as a shaft of du
Jen, I TOTALLY agree. I’m with you. I think I envy other people’s “got it togetherness” far more than their stuff. And, yeah… all because of my holes. So glad Jesus is in the process of filling those holes in us. Wish it were a bit quicker process. Thanks for inviting me into the “sisterhood” 🙂 of women chasing after Jesus at SDG
This question: What holes compel us to take inventory of someone else’s blessings rather than to count our own?
Even more than those physical things we covet, I also find myself envying someone else’s emotional state or their relationship. And it’s all because of my own holes. What a profound question. SO glad you are SDG tonight.
Oh, the mud grew BEAUTY in you, dear friend. Thanks for the prayers. And the reminder!
I am bawling!
I will pray hard for your boys!
You have prepared Luke well…what teenage boy wouldn’t envy a few things of the world…what 38 mom…wouldn’t envy what others have (talking of me!)….on occasion. It’s our human nature! I know from experience that stuff is not what brings happiness! I remember when we were in Mexico, and we saw a little boy playing in the dirt. He was covered in dust! My inlaws, felt so sorry for him…where were his toys??? I looked at his eyes..and I saw happiness! A happiness I don’t often see from kids with video games and long boards! I couldn’t help but to thing back when I was a kid…and played in the mud…and I am sure others ridiculed my parents for having so many kids when they couldn’t provide the worldly wants!
I simply replied to my inlaws…Sometimes the greatest happiness can come from playing with dirt…as long as there is LOVE AT HOME! 🙂
LOVE YOU!
Thinking and praying for your families safety!
Laura,
I’d love to hear more about your trips to Honduras. Thanks for the prayers. Yesterday my boys ministered to a village of people in the mountains. The town canceled school and turned the school into a med clinic. Word of mouth brought the crowds. Luke played hours of soccer with the kids and Rob was able to treat 150 patients! He reported that it was a WONDERFUL day. Amazing what we take for granted here.. doctors, schools, food…. Fodder for thanks, no doubt. Thanks again for the prayers.
Tara, so glad you stopped by to share the journey today. I love how you describe the way we “carry” our children… “heart full of my own boy”- yes, that’s exactly what makes parenthood so rich and challenging, isn’t it- it all comes down to the heart. Blessings to you and your boy, too.
So true. We shouldn’t give our children the world. We should give them a heart for the world. But the battle to keep the priorities straight is so fierce.
Having taken my family to Honduras twice in the last three years to work at an orphanage, I can picture the kids your son will meet, the health conditions he will find, and the miserable state of education he might uncover. Tonight I will pray for your family too because Honduras is dear to my heart. And because being a mom makes understand the thoughts of other moms in powerful ways.
thinking of you mama, heart full of my own boy as you let yours taste the world. Beautiful.