I don’t get to write it anymore…


Being a parent is hard.

Everyone knows it is one of the hardest jobs a person will ever have.

And it seems to me that the older they get, the harder the job gets.

At least that is what I have been feeling lately, lately my teenager has been making some choices that I rather wish he hadn’t made.

Now, I will say that in the grand scheme of things, the issues we are dealing with are quite minor…it could be so very much worse.

But I can’t help but feel a little panic.

I was driving today, thinking about how to talk to him…and for whatever reason, his baby book popped into my head.

I remember writing in his baby book.

I recorded his name, birth weight, length, first smile, first time he rolled over, the first time he cooed at me, the first time he sat up alone…

I recorded every tooth, every word, every step…

and then one day I stopped recording everything.

I would write in his book occasionally…but he was living and growing far faster than I could write.

And today, I realized that I am no longer in charge of writing his story.

I am merely holding the pencil in his hand, helping him form the letters…he is deciding what words to write.

As a parent, that is a hard realization to make.

I still feel the need to write his story for him.

I want the story to make sense…I want the story to be honest…I want the story to glorify the Lord.

But I don’t get to choose those things.

I can only edit the story so much now.

And though I still have much control…I have lost a significant amount of that control.

All I can do now is hope.  And pray.  And guide.

And I know that someday I will look at his story and feel pride and accomplishment, knowing that I did help write it…but for now, I have to hand over the pen now and then, and hope that if a mistake is made, it is caught and corrected before the story goes to print.

Because I don’t get to write it anymore…

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