He’s Not Here Right Now
This is one of those things I rarely talk about, especially publicly. Yet I’m all the more aware of the reality of how close to home it’s hitting for so many of us; too many.
This is my son’s room. It’s been empty for days. It will remain empty a few days longer. I hate this picture. I hate that he’s missing. I hate that it represents him not with me, not with us. I hate everything about this empty, lonely room. This is the picture of shared custody. One week with us...one week away from us.
I’ve heard it all so please refrain from judgment or opinions. This post isn’t asking for sympathy and I’m certainly not open to criticism - at least not on this subject. This is a very real, very raw picture of what it looks like to have half of your heart half of the time.
Every story is different; but I can guarantee no parent heart feels different than my own when they’re missing their child.
Before you think you’re excluded from this because a custody agreement may not impact you, I would ask you to stick around. Just today I talked to a mama humbled by her child’s sobs because of the impact over mean kids at school. Yesterday another mama shared her son’s “adult” decisions without any real understanding of how her heart was breaking. I’m sure you have your own story of grieving over your child, praying for their well-being, struggling to figure out how to reach them, or some situation that has brought you to your knees in pure anguish over the one you love so deeply you’d do anything for yet find yourself completely helpless.
We could talk about the consequences of divorce; the pain and heartache of people’s sin and how it affects the children. That’s certainly got a place here. We could debate the harsh realities of navigating schedules and homes and the ways we should have prevented this from happening. Regardless of who bears the “fault” in the fractured relationship, the children now bear the brunt of the consequences. That much I know.
I once heard it said being a child of divorce is like traveling between two different countries, each with their own language, rules, currencies, and exchanges. The only difference is that passport gets stamped every week. I imagine that’s a world traveler who just wants to be home once and for all...but the question then becomes, which home? Given the choice, how can a child bear the responsibility of hurting a parent in their choice? So they continue on, suffer through, bearing emotional baggage they were never meant to carry.
I don’t care how many years we’ve been doing this, there are times I simply can’t breathe because the grief is too much to bear. It’s grief of a different kind; heartache you can’t really explain or comprehend unless you’re a parent. You know what I mean. You ache and long for your children - you pray for them to grow up and love Jesus. You teach them to obey. You teach them to know right from wrong and then you pray for them to choose wisely. You can’t be there every time someone’s mean to them. You can’t be there watching over every choice, reminding them of everything you’ve taught. You can’t prevent every fall, you can’t always be there to pick them up.
This doesn’t always have a pretty ending. This doesn’t get wrapped up with a scripture that makes everything better. This is messy and organic. And as hard as this is, here’s what I also know. My God is faithful to redeem the years the locusts have destroyed. His grace is sufficient not just for me but for my son who travels back and forth, and any other child doing the same. No weapon formed against me, or him, shall prosper because I know God gets the victory. Even when I cannot protect him, love on him, raise him, enjoy him, discipline him, and engage him on a daily basis, I am reminded over and over that God doesn’t need me. He allows me to be here and He asks me to play an active prayerful role even in the absent times. He reminds me He didn’t need me when He was knitting him together and He’s big enough, Sovereign enough to watch over his every move even when I cannot be there.
This may not affect you personally or directly but I can guarantee you have sent your child off to school, summer camp, an overnight sleepover, or somewhere when your heart was with them but you physically were not. This is where we learn to lean into our Savior and trust Father God to watch over them, protect them, hold them when they are out of our reach. This is where we stay on our knees longer, spend more time in prayer, and allow Him the room to work and move when we are moved out of the way. That’s all I know to do. Will you join me in praying for our kids wherever they may be today?
This is my son’s room. It’s been empty for days. It will remain empty a few days longer. I hate this picture. I hate that he’s missing. I hate that it represents him not with me, not with us. I hate everything about this empty, lonely room. This is the picture of shared custody. One week with us...one week away from us.
I’ve heard it all so please refrain from judgment or opinions. This post isn’t asking for sympathy and I’m certainly not open to criticism - at least not on this subject. This is a very real, very raw picture of what it looks like to have half of your heart half of the time.
Every story is different; but I can guarantee no parent heart feels different than my own when they’re missing their child.
Before you think you’re excluded from this because a custody agreement may not impact you, I would ask you to stick around. Just today I talked to a mama humbled by her child’s sobs because of the impact over mean kids at school. Yesterday another mama shared her son’s “adult” decisions without any real understanding of how her heart was breaking. I’m sure you have your own story of grieving over your child, praying for their well-being, struggling to figure out how to reach them, or some situation that has brought you to your knees in pure anguish over the one you love so deeply you’d do anything for yet find yourself completely helpless.
We could talk about the consequences of divorce; the pain and heartache of people’s sin and how it affects the children. That’s certainly got a place here. We could debate the harsh realities of navigating schedules and homes and the ways we should have prevented this from happening. Regardless of who bears the “fault” in the fractured relationship, the children now bear the brunt of the consequences. That much I know.
I once heard it said being a child of divorce is like traveling between two different countries, each with their own language, rules, currencies, and exchanges. The only difference is that passport gets stamped every week. I imagine that’s a world traveler who just wants to be home once and for all...but the question then becomes, which home? Given the choice, how can a child bear the responsibility of hurting a parent in their choice? So they continue on, suffer through, bearing emotional baggage they were never meant to carry.
I don’t care how many years we’ve been doing this, there are times I simply can’t breathe because the grief is too much to bear. It’s grief of a different kind; heartache you can’t really explain or comprehend unless you’re a parent. You know what I mean. You ache and long for your children - you pray for them to grow up and love Jesus. You teach them to obey. You teach them to know right from wrong and then you pray for them to choose wisely. You can’t be there every time someone’s mean to them. You can’t be there watching over every choice, reminding them of everything you’ve taught. You can’t prevent every fall, you can’t always be there to pick them up.
This doesn’t always have a pretty ending. This doesn’t get wrapped up with a scripture that makes everything better. This is messy and organic. And as hard as this is, here’s what I also know. My God is faithful to redeem the years the locusts have destroyed. His grace is sufficient not just for me but for my son who travels back and forth, and any other child doing the same. No weapon formed against me, or him, shall prosper because I know God gets the victory. Even when I cannot protect him, love on him, raise him, enjoy him, discipline him, and engage him on a daily basis, I am reminded over and over that God doesn’t need me. He allows me to be here and He asks me to play an active prayerful role even in the absent times. He reminds me He didn’t need me when He was knitting him together and He’s big enough, Sovereign enough to watch over his every move even when I cannot be there.
This may not affect you personally or directly but I can guarantee you have sent your child off to school, summer camp, an overnight sleepover, or somewhere when your heart was with them but you physically were not. This is where we learn to lean into our Savior and trust Father God to watch over them, protect them, hold them when they are out of our reach. This is where we stay on our knees longer, spend more time in prayer, and allow Him the room to work and move when we are moved out of the way. That’s all I know to do. Will you join me in praying for our kids wherever they may be today?
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