I am conflicted.
I am on a family vacation in beautiful Lancaster County, Pennsylvania with it’s Amish charm and lazy-day feel, and I both love and hate it. Like the farmland around me, my heart is being tilled and broken up to allow new seed to be planted, and while I enjoy the prospect of new growth, the process is painful.
On the one hand, I want to live in the moment and embrace this last vacation time with my oldest child before he chases his own future in Australia, On the other, I am aware that all I know and love is about to change. The landscape of my life will never look the same and it’s a bit scary as questions arise in my heart about what the harvest will be.
I grew up on a farm and I know that every spring is a hopeful time. A farmer invests his time, money, and toil in what is yet to be, sowing into the land with the prospect of reaping a good return for his investment.
I suppose mothering is much the same. We too labor over the fields of our families and do all we know to do and then trust that it will produce something of value that will sustain us at a later time.
So here I am second-guessing. Questions plague me as I consider that Kieran will leave in just under a month.
Did I sow the right seeds? Did I tend to them well enough to make him strong enough to handle the rains that will beat down on him and the storms that will inevitably come? Did I teach him how to properly guard his heart to protect the good seeds sown or will they be devoured by the insects of greed, lust, and vanity? Is this the right time to transplant?
My heart says yes, and yet I’m back where I began–conflicted.
I suppose this is where faith must take over. Just like every faithful farmer, I’ve done all I’ve known and now I have to leave the rest in the hands of the Master Gardener and trust that Kieran will be counted with those “that may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:3)
In the meantime, I will speak and claim this promise over my first transplant, believing God will do in Australia what I can not:
The Lord will guide you continually,
And satisfy your soul in drought,
And strengthen your bones;
You shall be like a watered garden,
And like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. (Isaiah 58:11)
For those who have been here, I’d love any wisdom you can offer. For those who are here with me, I pray for your peace. Together we’ll trust that as we continue to sow into our children, we will reap a harvest of joy in our own hearts.