The other day my daughter told me
about being in church
with her two boys sitting in the pew in front of her
and being overwhelmed with an urge
to touch their heads and tousle their hair.
But of course she can't do that.
Her boys are almost teenagers
and involved in the process
of freeing themselves from her.
They no longer like to be touched.
That reminded me of myself
and how lost I felt
when my children did the same.
It seemed to me that I could still feel the imprint
of their little bodies in my arms.
I just hated to give them up.
Then it made me think of Mom
and how frustrated and angry she was at me
when I was a teenager
and wouldn't do what she wanted me to do.
Mom loved to have me go with her
to "witness" to the unsaved
the lost souls
in our neighborhood
which meant that I would take my Bible
and she would take hers
and together we would climb people's steps
knock on their doors
and Mom would open her Bible
and read Scripture to them.
But when I got to be about 15
I was too embarrassed
humiliated
to go with Mom anymore.
And so we fought.
She didn't speak to me for several days
made me do more than my fair share of the housework
and diaper washing
and gave me the evil eye
if we happened to be in the same room together.
I felt bad
guilty
sorry for Mom
but I knew if I tried to hug her
she would push me away
and say
"I don't need you to help me"
and I would go to my room and boohoo.
But there was no way I was going to "witness" again.
Now I know
how Mom felt
and my daughter knows
how I felt.
It's a wonderful and terrible thing
to see your chickies getting ready
to fly out of the nest.
Music Playing: Release Me
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