Monday, July 12, 2010

From Baby to Backpacks. It's Just Beginning.

I was just reading this post over at Ragamuffin Soul. It made me stop and think about where my girls are in the growing up process. While he is worried about his girls physically maturing, I've got my mind on the emotional maturing that is going on in the Storch house.

Reia will turn 9 this year. Her last year in the single digits. She's also the people pleaser and mom pleaser. Which is great for a mom who likes control. Like me.

Where Reese puts makeup on more days than I do, and can accessorize like no body's business, Reia has always been more a creature of comfort. No makeup, no ear piercing, jeans and t-shirts for everyday wear. And I've always been good with that. I still have most of the say in her life. But this year when we were online looking at backpacks, she picked a black LL Bean. Not a stitch of girly color on that bad boy.

Momma? Not thrilled.

(This battle isn't over just yet. Reason with her.) "Honey, I'm buying one of these that will last you through middle school. Are you sure you don't want red or blue or any other color than black?"

(She won't be dissuaded.)"I want black."

(I am still the mother here.) "But, then you are stuck with black. For. A. Long. Time."

(Mom, I'm growing up. Let me make the decision.) "Black."

(One last hail Mary) "Ok, I will order the black bag. But I am NOT buying another color if you decide you want something more feminine."

"Thanks, Mom."

I'm used to Reese wearing crazy things or lip gloss to school. Those are not the battles I choose to fight with her. (I mean, there are so many to choose from.) With Reia, the battles are few, and I rarely lose. But at some point I have to let her begin to make her own decisions. The kind she has to live with.

This wasn't a battle over a black backpack. This was her own acknowledgement that she is growing up and wants to be trusted. I will slowly (and I mean VERY SLOWLY) be sitting on the sidelines more and more with advice instead of directives. Praying that I'm letting go at the right pace. And watching my sweet baby turn into a beautiful young lady who I am proud to call my daughter.

**On a side note, she also got black tennis shoes. But they did have a hot pink stripe up the side. Score one for mom. =)

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Waiting Quietly

I am waiting on something.

A very large movement of the Holy Spirit on my behalf.

I'm also a complainer and not very patient. So, I could only smile at God's humor and at myself when I read my devotional from Elisabeth Elliot earlier this week.

Few of us enjoy having to wait for something we want. It is human nature to desire instant gratification, and it is divine nature to do many things very, very slowly. Growth is always imperceptible. But the farmer exercises long patience in waiting for his crop. He has done his work and is assured of the result, hence he waits quietly. He is at rest because the outcome (barring disastrous "acts of God") is certain. If we could simply remember that this is true of everything--that God's purposes are slowly being worked out for his glory and our good--we would, like the farmer, keep faith and wait quietly.

Lord, take from us all fretting and hurrying and teach us to rest our hearts in the "ultimate certainty" (Jas 5:7 JBP).

You talkin' to me? Well, of course he is. I am not only to wait, which in itself requires I learn patience and trust in the will of God, but I am to do it quietly. To which I almost "bwahahahahaha"d at God. He knows me too well. But then I remembered Sarah who laughed at God (on the inside even) and was heard. By God's angels. And God, who called her on it. (Gen 10:18) Ahem. I didn't bwahahahaha just in case.

So, quietly.

I asked God to show me when I was complaining, worrying or fretting (as Elisabeth calls it.) After about 30 minutes, I asked him to stop. The noise was deafening. I see now the complaining isn't just in my voice, but in my heart.

Our hearts are a tricky place I've decided. Still, mine is a dwelling place for the Holy Spirit. I'd be naive not to think he'd be constantly cleaning up the place.