When you are rearing (I would rather say “raising” but dang Wayne and his doggone grammar) two teenage girls, there are days when you are quite sure that you are an idiot, they hate you with an undying passion, and you were much better off when they were in first grade and thought you were a rock star. It’s rough some days.
Then on other days, like today, you want to get on your knees and thank the Father for His mercy in covering your parenting mistakes. You talk to your Big Girl far away learning to navigate college on her own. You listen to her tell you about how she managed to make huge, life-altering decisions all by herself. You listen to her tell you how it all worked out perfectly. You can hear pride in her voice, and you feel it in your heart, because she did it, all by herself.
This kid, this little girl who marches to her own drum, is growing up.
Then on nights like tonight, you take your Baby Girl to dinner and sit and listen. And she talks. And you are happy because that doesn’t happen as much as it used to. While she talks you take it in, and you look at her. She is beautiful. Not a, “she’s my daughter so of course I think she’s beautiful” beautiful, but a “How in the world did that beautiful young woman come from me?” beautiful.
This baby, who used to never want me to let her go, is growing up.
It’s in these moments that you realize that yes, the days are passing fast and they are almost out of your grasp. You know that God sends you these days to remind you that He loves them so much more than you ever could, with your earthly mother love. And you rest your mind on the promise that He has done a good job in the work He has started in them, and He’ll be so faithful to complete it.