22 Nov He is Lent to the Lord

It was 2 A.M. when he crawled into my bed, shaking with terror. “Mama, the bad guys were in my bed.” “You mean you had a nightmare, baby?” “Yeah. I need to stay in your bed.” “Ok, honey. You can sleep on Daddy’s side” (Daddy’s in Puerto Rico on business).

10 minutes later: “Mama, the bad guys are on Daddy’s side, too.” Me, sighing: “Ok, honey. Come closer.” And I held his hand until he fell asleep.

I wish I could say that this is a rare occurrence, but the “bad guys” seem to come into my little boy’s dreams far too often lately. As his Mama, I wish I could wash his mind clean of the bad guys, pouring in a good dose of Thomas the Train and big fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows and call it a night. But I can’t.

And I lay in bed awake, holding my boy’s hand, listening to his deep breathing and realize that a lump has risen into my own throat now. Because I am reminded once again of this truth: I am not in control.

There’s a lot that I can do, of course. I can hold his hand when he crosses the street. I can teach him to wash his hands before meals, scrubbing off the germs in a laughter of bubbles and splashing. I can give him cool baths and medicine when he is feverish or bundle him up before he plays in the snow. I can feed him fruits and vegetables and put him to bed when he needs sleep.

But I can’t stop the bad guys from coming into his dreams at night. I can’t stand guard over his immune system and fight off sickness before it reaches him. I can’t keep kids from hurting his feelings.

And I remember just two weeks ago facing this reality of my lack of control square in the face once again. He had a fever for a few days and recovered, but then kept complaining of neck pain. And we were just sitting at IHOP, happily eating pancakes as a family, when my husband said, “Buddy, turn at look at me. Does it hurt to move your neck?” And little boy cried and nodded. And his pediatrician gave the word: “Take him to the hospital. You have to rule out meningitis.“

Meningitis. The word itself produced PTSD in my heart from a few years ago when, on vacation, my husband spent a week in the hospital with viral meningitis and I had faced giants of the worst kind of fears.

For a few hours, I faced them again, but now with my little boy. I kept telling myself, “It’s just a precaution. He is likely O.K. He’s likely just achy from his illness.” But as my husband whisked him off to the hospital and I went into his room, readying his bed for his return, I found myself crumpling up in a ball of tears, sobbing into his teddy bear, my heart a ball of mush, my throat choked with anxiety.

And God was there, as he always is in our traumatic moments. And I heard him gently speaking to my anxious heart: “Trust him to me, child. Give him to me.” And here is the thing I find so strange about these moments – I know my God to be trustworthy and true. I know Him to be faithful and righteous and caring and compassionate and loving. I have seen him work out the worst situations for His glory and my good again and again. I have watched him carry me and mine every single step of our journey here on earth. And yet here I was again saying, “Daddy, I’m afraid.”

But here’s what I also know about my God – he never shames me. He simply calls me closer, pulling me near and reminding me of what is true.

“I know you’re here. I know you’re good. But – the bad guys are still here.”

“Come closer, child.“

And I did. I did some deep breathing. I yielded my baby boy for what felt like the 7,000th time to my Father in Heaven. And reached out to my prayer warriors as well. And after an hour or so more, I got this picture:

He was home in his bed by 11 P.M. that night, safe and sound. And I lay long with him, holding him near at his request. He looked long in my eyes, “Mama, I want you forever.” “I want you forever, too buddy.” But even while I said it, my clenched heart released its grip and I yielded him yet again.

And my eyes turned upwards to the plaque on his wall – the verse God gave me at this boys’ conception:

“For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him. Therefore I have lent him to the Lord. As long as he lives, he is lent to the Lord” (1 Samuel 1:27-28).

What are your biggest fears and anxieties for your kids? The Lord does not shame you, but simply invites you, “Come closer.” He who has carried you can carry them, too and invites us to open up our clenched hearts:

“Therefore, I have lent him to the Lord. As long as he lives, he is lent to the Lord.”