When I was young and even sometimes now, I was always afraid. I can remember vividly as far back as being 2 years old things that happened or that I experienced at those ages. I remember when my sister was being born and I was in the hospital waiting room with my Papa Rance, crying and slobbering all over the vinyl benches as he smoked cigarettes and paced probably wishing I would stop throwing a fit because I wanted my mommy. I also remember the nightmares and sleep walking I was tortured with for many years until I was about 9 I think and this silly song written loosely around 1 Timothy 7 “God hath not given you the spirit of fear, but of power of love and of a sound mind”. I confessed that scripture in the midst of my nightmares and I confessed that scripture on those scary first days of Junior High and High School. It what I was taught to do, to boldly confess scripture in all times of need and to know that the Lord would never forsake me during those times.
Today I see my baby bear cub fearfully venturing out into unknown territory as he is just days away from entering Junior High School and he has NO problem being an emotional young man. He cries when he’s upset, whether it’s for fear or anger, his eyeballs are a river of emotions that break my solid beating heart into pieces, mostly because it’s at those times that I know exactly how he is feeling because I was there. I was there but I wasn’t allowed to cry, at least without ridicule. My dad wasn’t the tender hearted man when I was growing up that he is today, and I am glad that he is a different man now especially because he is living at our house as my son is going through this. Sometimes it seems that he is even more understanding of my boys feelings than I am when my immediate reaction reflects those of the ones my dad had toward me in similar situations when I was growing up.
This morning before another event my son had to go to and after a night of conversations and tears, I asked him if I could pray for him before I dropped him off and he said yes, which makes me happy because he isn’t too cool for that and Lord let him never be. He cried a little bit until the cheerleader in me, who never got to fulfill her dreams because she was always too afraid to even try out, came out and he couldn’t help but laugh at his mama making an ass of herself to try to motivate him to be bold and strong, banish fear and doubt like the songs use to teach me!!
I obviously cant be there with him to hold his hand during these ridiculous life events even tough I wish that I could no matter how bad he would hate it if I did. I can hold his heart and mind in prayer and ask that my friends and family do the same and I can know that the Holy Spirit will comfort him if he is receptive to it. I am just bound and determined to not be the parent that sits back and allow my boy to not experience all that he can during these times in his life because he is afraid to. I know we shouldn’t make it our life mission to force our children into a life we wished we’d had, and I am certainly not on a mission to make him someone he isn’t. But I know that in this case just as it was for my daughter, having experienced what it was like to miss out on the things I REALLY wanted to do because I was afraid or in my daughters case, having experienced being a mother before marriage, and knowing what I know now as an adult the remorse for having let my fears determine my choices and for not having listened to my parents biblical counsel and guidance regarding sex before marriage, wanting more, different, and better for them is a great call as a parent to have! I shouldn’t settle in the lie that “Oh well that’s what I did so it’s okay if they do” or “Oh well who am I to tell them to do different than I did” or my favorite one is “Well I would be a hypocrite to tell them to NOT do the same things I did”, no.. I would be a great parent to direct them to expect and achieve better and to teach them to teach their children one day to go above and beyond what THEY did.
I already feel better about the situation this morning having written all of this down, and like my sister said, “he didn’t put up a huge fight like the last time so that is growth already”. Plus, hearing these old worship songs I use to sing to get through so much is really bringing me back to those Pentecostal roots of mine where the singing, clapping and dancing in response to the greatness of God was such a beautiful thing to be surrounded by.