each week, when the clock strikes “time for boys to go to their moms,” this paralyzing fear hits me. sometimes it wins. sometimes i am right in my fear, sometimes i am proven utterly wrong. this week, i kicked the fear i hold to the curb.as i sat in my office, finishing an exam that i already thought was late (but wasn’t, wahoo!!!), i knew the time for the boys to be sent off was approaching. i could hear them packing their things, talking about how fun the day was, just laughing with their dad. i heard them skipping down the hall and playing with the dogs and trying to make the most of the last few minutes. and then my heart started feeling small. and my throat started closing up. and my mind started racing. and i thought, “what if they don’t tell me bye? What if they don’t even care to say goodnight to me and i won’t see them for days. it’ll kill me.” so, i began preparing for the emotion-filled conversation i was prepared to have about how the kids don’t like me and it hurts and i’m unwelcomed. i couldn’t get much further than that before a tap-tap was heard on the door. little one pokes his head through and said “bye.” and smiled and said, “yep! see ya then!” and pranced out. then the thoughts came back, “why didn’t they both come? where’s Big? oh no, HE hates me. i pointed out his attitude too many times today. ugh. i’m lost.” and he just slithers through the door and laughs at how odd his entrance was and wanted to tell me how much fun he had, when he thought it was going to be terrible all day. (we looked at future homes, as a family, got DQ ice cream, and went to a flea market. my dream date.) he smiled again and then waved goodbye to me and shut the door.
my tiny heart was filled. my face was lit up, my posture perked up, my smile couldn’t be taken away. i know that Prince Charming sent them in to say goodnight and they didn’t come in there out of their own doing, but my heart is still full.
sometimes it’s the little things.
but let me tell you about this thing called fear that tried to rip me away from my boys. my boys. it’s this nasty thing that tells me i’m not good enough for the family, that i am just an implant here and that i’ll never be enough because i wasn’t there. it’s this thing that rears its ugly face when we get in spats, like any family would, biological or not. it tries to tell me i’m mean and hateful, that i am ugly to these kids and to my husband- when in my heart i know i am not. it takes something simple that i say and twists it into something that wants to wither away our family before it even gets a chance to begin. it will not win.
the hope that is restored in the tiniest moments like these, a smile and a wave, outweigh the fear. tremendously. it will not win.
fear will not win. fear will not have me, it will not have my household, it will not have my mind. fear will not plant it’s ugly seed anywhere near us.
it will not win.
Fear not, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed. I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will uphold you with my victorious right hand