The scripture verse above has special significance for me. This year will be sixteen years ago that I lost my first child. ‘Lost’ seems such an odd word to use, like you’ve put down your car keys and now can’t remember where they are. No, I didn’t ‘lose’ him, I carried him, felt his flutterings within, saw him grow and move , held his tiny softness in my arms for what felt like only a moment and then, in a heartbeat, he was gone.
Late last year we welcomed a new baby into our family and yesterday we traveled to Auckland to go and meet this beautiful little life. She was more gorgeous than I could have imagined, her parents and grandparents radiant in their love for her. It was a beautiful sight to see. Throughout the day a recurring thought kept wriggling its way into my awareness: Is there any love stronger than that of a parent to a child? Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your children?
Sometimes, when I think about my children, I can’t fathom the love that fills my heart. As I watch them mature and learn the lessons life throws at them, my love for them is almost overwhelming. Many times I have to step back, allow nature to take its course and educate them in the way the world works. I have to force myself to realise I can’t protect them forever, they have to stand on their own feet, fight their own battles, find their own voice. It is difficult but also wonderful – their triumph is my triumph.
So, each year my children move through this life with what seems like supersonic speed, my love for them grows. I watch them with awe and hope. I slowly let go of their hands and trust that, whatever time they have on earth will be lived with joy, faith and love.