From my heart to yours this Thanksgiving—
My daughter's normal morning 3-day-a-week school routine begins.
"You awake?" I text to her from downstairs, under the covers, snug as a bug in a rug.
"Yup," she texts back.
One foot slips out from under the covers, then the other. Un-snug as a bug out of a rug. Leaning over the bathroom counter, I get partially ready for the day, make-up and hair, then I'm off to scan the living room and kitchen to see if my daughter has left any school work there that she might need for the day. I grab a bottled water out of the garage fridge and a granola bar from the pantry for her.
My heart yearns for her success.
The door to her stairs/bedroom billows open and the rush begins. I open the garage door, hug and kiss her goodbye, shoving the water and granola bar into her backpack. She backs the car out, careful not to hit a tree. I wave goodbye and blow kisses to her ... she stalls the car to wave and return my kisses. We realize it's our last gaze at each other.
That little black car zooms off down our driveway, kicking up leaves, beginning that 35-minute commute by busy, 18-wheeler interstate.
And I pray, like every day—Lord, watch over her, protect her, get her home to me.
My heart yearns for her safety.
But this particular day, after some 5 minutes have passed, my phone buzzes with a call. It's her.
"Hey, Mom." Her tone is urgent. "I left my driver's license in your car. I'll be home in two minutes. Will you get it for me?"
I run out to the car. There it is. I open the garage again.
My mind starts going wild. Will she be late for school now? Will she drive too fast to get there on time? She's almost home ... she said 2 minutes. I'll save her time.
My heart yearns for every good and perfect thing for her.
With barely a moment's thought, I take off down my long, wet driveway, barefoot, in my pajamas. I'll meet here there at the end of the road. Lord, please don't let me step on a stick or an acorn. As I near the end, I see her car between trees.
She pulls into the driveway. She sees me running. Her expression? Priceless.
My heart yearns to make her smile.
"I can't back out, Mom."
"Yes, you can. I'll help you." I walk out into the middle of our county road in my pajamas, guiding her, motioning to her which way to turn her wheels. She does it. I knew she could do it.
My heart yearns for her to be confident.
She zooms off again. My prayer goes up once again.
At the end of the day, she barrels through the door, crying. Wrapping her arms around me, she spills her precious heart. She barely missed being in an auto accident. I sink in despair over the details her precious eyes witnessed. My fractured heart looks heavenward, and my prayer shoots up—thank you, Lord, for bringing her home to me.
My heart yearns for peace.
For her. For me.
Every week, I hear her near misses or what she's witnessed on the road. My heart can barely take it.
My right eyelid's been flickering like a fluorescent light for days now.
It's all worry, y'all.
My daughter's first semester of college has been the hardest change for me. If there is one downside to homeschooling that I've discovered, it's that a mama's heart is too sheltered. It's the mama's heart that's cause for concern. And the heart stays invested regardless of your child's age.
But she loves it. She loves every single thing about it—the school, her classes, the commute, time in her car, lunch out with friends—which is all that matters. And I'm so thankful.
But this mama thought she knew how to lean on God. This mama's heart is learning to lean, lean on my Savior, more and more.
After Thanksgiving, my daughter will only have about two weeks left of school, before she has a month break. I'm so grateful because—
My broken heart yearns for a break.
What has you concerned lately? And can you imagine our Father's love over us?
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. And many thanks to all who entered the magazine subscription giveaway from the last post. Thank you for playing. I'm blowing kisses your way. I cherish you.
And the winners are ...
Cindy Hasko and Norma Brumbaugh Wieland
Woohoo! I pray you are blessed by the magazine all year long.