Faith Stories: Growing Up
I am sitting here at a public library somewhere in Washington, D.C. I dropped off my son’s car for servicing a few blocks away and was directed to a coffee shop where I could hang out for a few hours while they worked on the car. The coffee shop was “closed for personal reasons” through March, so here I am, referred by a friendly library employee also looking for coffee. But let me back up a little bit.
I am helping my 25-year-old son wade through the decision of keeping his car in car-unfriendly D.C. or giving it back to me, which would require me to drive it home rather than take that Southwest flight in a couple of days. It has been 14,000 miles since the last oil change. I know the tires are worn. Is it road worthy? I don’t know, but I better find out before I travel 18 hours to get home in it.
My son has work commitments this week. So I clean out his disgustingly dirty car, use GPS navigation to find a full-service automotive shop I’d hunted down online, get there (a miracle in itself), then realize they only take appointments. After hearing my situation, I get an appointment the next day. I leave early the next morning, stop along the way to vacuum out the crushed, molding ramen noodles in the car trunk, then again navigate back to the car shop. After finding the coffee shop closed and then finding my way to the library, I have 35 minutes to wait for the library to open.
It is wet and drizzling, and I have no umbrella; it is 45 degrees outside. I am standing, somewhat uncomfortably, in a covered entrance way of the library waiting for it to open. And the thoughts and questions begin. What lengths I am going through to help my son! Will my son ever grow up? It seems he should be grown already. Is it me? Am I not ready to stop being “momma,” and with Bryan gone, “daddy” too? I would do anything for my son.
And then these thoughts…how much more than this will my heavenly Father do for me? How much more than this has my heavenly Father already done for me? Will I ever grow up? Will I ever start giving enough? Will I ever start listening to Him enough? Will I ever start doing what he asks enough? Will I ever start spending enough time with Him? I sense His frustration with me, even as I feel the frustration of a momma with a not-yet-grown-up son.
But I know how much I love my son. It helps me know how much my heavenly Father loves me. It encourages me to continue growing up. My faith tells me I will never be totally grown up, but I can be moving toward it; the fancy word is sanctification.
I think I will try to capture the lesson of this experience in my heart and remember it. Never stop growing up. Always know that God loves me.