my oldest blessing left this morning for camp. this is one event that every year she looks forward to. in fact she has a countdown in her room the minute she returns for the next summer.she looks forward to chapel, games and worship. this summer looks a little different though. she paid this year the whole amount by herself. she had saved the entire years’ worth of babysitting to be able to fund her way as well as another students way anonymously. while i know that this expense is a lot to ask of a fourteen year old to pay her dad i truly believe that she will appreciate this week a lot more if she has to work for it.
when i was a teenager and went to camp i have to say that was more worried about my tan and what boys would be there than paying my own way or offering some financial relief to another family. yet as i am realizing as each day passes in her life her story is not my story. her expectations are not mine. her goals and agenda were never mine. my story does not mean that her story will be the same. so the fears that invade me, the anxiety that can paralyze me about raising a beautiful daughter doesn’t define who she is . who she is supposed to be. her story is only hers to tell. God’s to design. her story is only mine to watch.
i think so often as parents, particularly mothers, we fear the worst for our children. especially when they become the age that we were when we began making poor decisions. setting in a fear that they too will make the same choices that we did. yet as i was so wisely told by those that i seek guidance from. “let her tell her own story. let God write the story but you need to let her live it”. with that comes such freedom. i know without a doubt that she loves Jesus. i know without a doubt that she has been baptized by Christ alone. i know without a doubt that she is gorgeous, smart, and capable. she is giving, loving with the heart of a servant. i know without a doubt that God gave her to me to let me see His glory every day. lived out. in her time. in her way. in His light.