I was watching a late night talk show last week when I heard the guest, a Christian writer and mother of 5, say that according to a study, a mother’s greatest fear is that something bad will happen to her children. I agree! I’ve heard other mothers say the same thing. Nothing terrifies me more. This is way up there in my list of Oh-God-forbid! things. I’m sure many mothers can relate.
The lady guest further shared how she’s learning to release her children to God every time her anxiety level goes up--she resorts to prayer. After all who is in a better place to keep them in His hands but their Maker? In the final analysis, He has numbered their days and there is nothing anyone can do to add to them. But we can still pray for our children, do what we as parents can do to the best of our knowledge and ability, and leave the rest to God.
The reason I’m saying this is that last night Mickey told me about a teenaged boy, whose family we knew by name, who was beaten unconscious last Friday night. He remains comatose. A young boy in high school! Then today when I went to work, my friend told me that the 20+ year old son of a dear friend of ours met a vehicular accident on Saturday night. He is now on life support.
My heart goes out to the parents! I cannot even begin to imagine their grief and pain!
I think of my own boys too. If I don’t learn to continually release each of them to God, I will go nuts worrying about where they are or what they are doing. I tend to worry about them a lot!
When Gino and Mickey were in their young teens and just learning to go out with friends, there were times when I'd panic and look around in the neighbourhood or at their school grounds. Relax, Mommy Blossoms! But I couldn’t.
When they started to come home later and later at night, I would sit anxiously at home and wait and wonder. I have gotten more used to it. There are nights when Gino's classes last till 10pm, add to that a 1.5-hour travel time. Mick works till closing of Church’s Chicken.
“Mom, don’t worry about us. We’re just somewhere. We’ll go home,” the two would say.
“I’m a mother. I worry. So you have to call,” I’d tell them.
It's a good thing they now have cellphones. I sometimes call them or they call me when they would be home later than expected. It’s not that I don’t trust them. Gino and Mickey are responsible young men, have no vice that I know of, and they have not given me anything to worry about in terms of the company they keep. I trust them to stay away from trouble and, thank God, they have been trouble-free throughout their adolescence. What sometimes scares me is the number of crazy people out there and just the random evil that happens with no explanation.
So I pray with Bud every morning for God to keep them safe. Then again by myself at different times of the day or night. I wonder how I would've been with daughters especially in this very permissive society.
I guess the tables have turned. I am now my mother.
Did I give my mother a hard time? Not really. We lived inside the campus where I studied till university and beyond. My routine was predictable. School-home-school-home. Then later it was school-home-church-school-home-church. Then school-home-church-office, school-home-home-church-office. It was only in my last year of college that I had the confidence to leave the campus on my own or with my friends.
But when I began to enjoy more and more freedom and independence, I was out several nights a month. I became actively involved in church and Christian fellowships. My social life became so busy. Then I got a job that took me travelling to remote barrios often by myself several times a year.
Though my parents did not have to worry about my circle of friends or the activities I did, I sensed they still worried without really saying it. I was careful to call every time I would be late, or from the field where I was assigned if there was a telephone facility. It gave me peace of mind to give them peace of mind.
Now I am on the other side. Ahh, the tables have really turned.