My boys, like most, love to play army. Especially my youngest. Sometimes he’s an army soldier, and sometimes he’s a storm trooper. But he’s always on a mission.
This scene out my front door struck me the other day. I’ve captured lots of pictures of the boys playing army. But something about this one made me stop and watch.
Maybe it was because I caught a glimpse of a young man 15 years from now, far from his home and family. Maybe because, in that instant, my heart ached for all the moms of soldiers far from home. Moms who will always see those soldiers as their precious little children.
In today’s world, the chances that our children will serve (or be called to serve) in a military setting are real.
Thankfully, this soldier’s mission didn’t look too dangerous. (The cats should probably watch their backs, though.)
But what about his future missions?
The truth is that we don’t know what the future holds for any of our children. Only God does. And if I’m honest with you, the thought of any of them facing dangerous missions on a real battlefield terrifies me.
And it rattles the mustard seed of my faith.
Because faith dictates that we trust God.
Trust him even with important things. Especially important things.
Like our children.
I can trust God for a lot of things. But for my children’s health and safety? In some ways that’s tough. In fact, I’ll hold on to that job until the day I die with the ferocity and tenacity of a mamma bear. Of course, I’ll pray. That’s easy.
But it is incredibly hard to turn them over to God and present them, palms up, to His care.
What if He takes them away from me? What if His plan includes a dangerous mission or battle field, or a serious illness?
I think it’s a struggle every mom faces. And many are put to the test more than others.
I haven’t been tried.
At least not yet.
Would I be able to hold my three sons out to God, palm up, and trust Him while they walk through difficult or dangerous situations? Will I?
Even though my mind knows that there is no one more capable or loving than God, I think I would struggle.
For now, at least, my little soldier’s eyes are still innocent. I still get to tuck him in at night and hold him when he cries. And I’m incredibly thankful for the safety in which we live, and the many blessings we enjoy.
But for parents of real soldiers, fervent prayers take the place of tender hugs. Let’s add our prayers to theirs.
Thank you for our soldiers.
Guide their steps. Protect them. And bring them home safely when they are done their job.
And may our faith in your loving and sovereign care be renewed every day.