They say the whole goal of parenting is to have your little birdies leave the nest. Well, I don’t know who “they” are, but I can tell you this: “they” left out a few things. Significant things. Things like this:
One day you find out they’ve entered, not only your world, but your body. For nine short months you are inseparable.
And then, before your very eyes, they grow independently of you.
They do all sorts of things by themselves, learning and growing each day.
Until, one day, they spread their wings and fly.
They didn’t tell me that the spreading of our little birdies’ wings to fly would ache so in our mama hearts.
They didn’t tell me that leaving the nest would take the breadth of a wing span. Eighteen years? Just a flap of the wings.
They didn’t tell me that those labor pains don’t just occur at birth. They come ’round again when that young birdie, now a young adult, fledges the nest.
They didn’t tell me that mamas never stop worrying. Yes, even if you’re a woman of faith.
But this is the deal: the goal, I discovered, really isn’t getting them to leave the nest. The goal is getting them to fly, to do what God designed them to do.
This is what I want for all my children, to use the gifts God has given them because I know when they do, they glorify Him. He made them; unique, individual, and dependent. Dependent, not on me, but on Him.
My girl is flying, but I know the sound of her call. And I’ll be listening for it.