My daughter’s recent paintings reflect her desire to travel the world again, and I know my heart must bend.
Not break, mind you, but bend to the will of my precious girl who lights up the room with a smile. I must bend to her passion to travel and teach English abroad, again.
Bend to her exploration of Asian countries I do not trust with her life, as I sit home wringing my hands and pleading with God for His protection.
Bend to the passion of this willowy young woman with a fire inside I cannot quench nor would I want to.
Yet, as difficult as this is for me, I am able to bend because of remembrance.
When I was only twenty, I left home, with the same fire burning inside of me; the desire to travel the world and live abroad, to be a missionary in the Netherlands. And my mother had to bend without any understanding of what this fire inside felt like.
So if my mother could bend to me, how can I not do the same? I well remember the photo of me and the scripture Mom placed on her shelf and prayed, over and over again, while wringing her hands: “May the Lord watch between you and me while we are apart.”
So, I must bend away from wanting it to be all about me, having her home, safe and sound. I must accept her desires and decisions.
I must bend to trusting God with her life when I am so very far away.
I must bend and resist my fears, so I can believe something beautiful will blossom in her heart if she follows her dreams.
