By Amy at Make Me a Mary
Growing. How it hurts sometimes. I carried each of them home for the first time in my arms and the growing pains began--the recovery, the sleepless nights, the angst of growing into a decent parent.
Then I watched my pain become theirs as they grew and learned about heartbreak and skinned knees and what "hot" means and how ugly people can be to each other.
So they grew older and I grew wiser, and all they wanted to do was grow up more. To be older than now, always. It never changes--we all just want to grow up.
And so they are.
My oldest, whom I carried home for the first time only just yesterday, will be an adult next month. Eighteen years of watching her grow from no shoes at all into plastic high heels, then she grew from wishing she could wear my shoes into thinking my shoes are too old-womanish.
And pretty soon she'll put on her own trendy shoes and walk right out of my home and into her own. All grown up.
I can only pray that as they grow into their own adult-sized skin, He is growing their hearts into a heart like His. And Lord, how that hurts sometimes. But what more beautiful kind of hurt is there than growing in Him?