When my daughter, Eva, was a baby, she was "tucked in" at bedtime. Her father and I took turns each evening saying prayers, snuggling her into her bed, kissing her goodnight, turning out her light. For years, our ritual was the same.
Then came the night when Eva was 12 and she met me in the hall to announce, "I can tuck myself in, Mom. I know how to pray."
Of course, I was stunned. I?d endured the moment she pushed the bottle away from her lips. I hadn?t walked her to school in ages. I?d long since given up picking out her clothes. But not tuck her in?
A mother eagle prepares her babies to leave the nest by unfluffing it. With her beak, she tugs out all the downy, soft stuff that has made such a cozy bed and sends it floating over the side until only thorny, prickly sticks remain. What birdbrain would want to stay in such a nest?
In my life, it?s more often my children who do the unfluffing. I pick up the cues and follow along. It?s certainly not easy. We moms spend years devoting ourselves to our children. We get used to being needed. And it?s not hard for us to put our lives on hold while we pour ourselves out for our kids.
But as I watch my children grow more and more independent, I?m forced to redirect my gaze from the everyday chores of mothering and refocus on my goals. What is the purpose of the laundry, the meals, the lectures, the homework monitoring, the carpooling? Where am I putting my energy, my focus?
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint" (Is.:40:31).1