Consent Of The Governed: Carnival of Homeschooling - 200th Edition - Party On!

Consent Of The Governed: Carnival of Homeschooling - 200th Edition - Party On!

The "Balloon Boy" Hoax

Our beloved town of Fort Collins made world-wide news this week. We were spending a peaceful afternoon at home when the phone rang. My mom was calling to ask if we were watching the news, as there was a breaking story involving a family from our town. We quickly tuned in to hear that an experimental balloon-type aircraft had been accidentally released from a home in Fort Collins, and that the family’s six-year-old son was believed to be on board. The aircraft traveled about 50 miles from their home, and was believed to be capable of reaching 10,000 feet of altitude. We watched with anxious hearts throughout the afternoon as rescuers tried to find a way to reach the balloon and save the boy. We prayed continually and fervently for this child’s safety, and for the parents who were undergoing such a traumatic event. Several hours later, the balloon deflated and landed in a field. When rescuers cut open the aircraft, no boy was found. Our hearts fell as they speculated on when and if the boy could have fallen out of the craft, or if he could possibly have escaped alive. My mother’s heart was stricken at the thought of this family losing their youngest son in such a terrible way. I couldn’t escape the images in my mind of this poor little boy falling from a great altitude to his death, especially after a news report claimed that someone had seen something falling from the craft.

Some time later that afternoon, the local sheriff announced that the boy had been found, safe and sound, hiding in the family’s attic. The media immediately pounced, asking the sheriff if this had been a hoax. Stories began circulating about this family, and about their previous media experiences. Clips were shown of this family participating in a TV reality show called “Wife Swap”, showing their children as ill-behaved and rambunctious. It was released that 911 calls had been previously made from this home involving domestic disturbances. Tales were told of this family’s “storm-chasing” experiences, and how they had taken their children directly into the path of danger.

At first I felt angry at the media for attacking this family without any proof of wrong-doing. The relief was so strong that this child was unharmed that I couldn’t (or didn’t want to) believe this family would put people through such an experience. As more time went on, however, it came out that this was indeed an elaborate hoax, staged by the family in hopes of gaining a contract for a reality television show. This hoax was uncovered by a slip of the tongue of the boy while being interviewed on television (he said, “we did this for a show”).

I have to say, I am appalled. These parents callously used their six-year-old son in an effort to gain publicity for themselves. They put a great number of police officers in a very stressful situation and wasted a lot of taxpayer money in a fruitless search and rescue operation. They disregarded the anguish every parent in Fort Collins felt as they watched this story unfold. They are now almost certainly going to be charged with at least two misdemeanors and two felonies for their reckless scheme. In my opinion, however, their worst crime is one that won’t bring any arrest or fine. The choice they made that tears my heart out is this: They willfully taught this little boy that it is okay to lie to get what you want. The consequences of this action will reap terrible fruit. This boy will grow up to believe that it is acceptable to manipulate people, distort the truth and do whatever it takes to get what he desires. To me, this is the ultimate tragedy in this terrible story.

So, what can we learn from this? It’s easy to point fingers and be appalled at this family and their choices, but what does it have to teach us about parenting? To me, the lesson to be learned can be summed up in this: We need to teach our children to love truth. God makes it very clear in His word that He hates lying tongues (see Proverbs 6:16-19). We need to make teaching our children truthfulness a top priority. Telling lies, exaggerating for effect, “stretching the truth” are not harmless activities. Each lie or perversion of the truth leads to more lies and culminates in a character that is dishonoring to God. As we watch the news stories about this family, let’s examine our own hearts and our children’s character and see if we, too, are guilty of teaching our children to be untruthful, whether by words or example. Let’s resolve to stand on the Truth that is found only in God’s word and to raise children who are passionately committed to Him. It’s the only way we will raise children who can change the world…and I, for one, don’t care to live in a world where parents use their children to gain fame and fortune for themselves.

Stealing Lexi's Hope

This summer, my youngest daughter participated in a two-week drama intensive camp. They met from 9 am to 5 pm each day, learning singing, acting and dancing skills, as well as rehearsing a Junior Broadway production of “Annie”, which they performed in two shows at a local theater. Lexi has long held a love for acting, singing and dancing, so this was a wonderful opportunity for her. She talked about it for weeks and was so excited when the first day finally arrived. She and I drove to the studio on the first morning, and as we walked in, I felt her excitement turn to apprehension. It quickly became apparent that almost all of these kids knew each other, and had acted with this theater group before. They loudly and wildly greeted each other, ignoring this tiny blonde newcomer. She clung to my hand, which Lexi almost never does, and I could tell that she was reluctant for me to leave. I, too, was having a hard time leaving, as this was really the first time I had turned her over to other people for any length of time (she has always been homeschooled) and it was very unusual for her to turn shy. She is my adventurous one, the one who makes friends quickly and has never looked back when you drop her off at dance class or Sunday school. Her out-of-character reluctance fed my own fears of leaving her with this group of strangers. I had grave misgivings as I finally left the building after the parents’ meeting. I confess, I cried all the way home.

On top of my anxiety about her sudden attack of shyness, I was worried about my daughter’s heart. I knew that they would be giving vocal and acting auditions this first day, and would learn their part by the end of that day’s camp. Lexi had very emphatically told me what part she wanted in the play…that of Lily St. Regis, the blonde bombshell scam artist who, along with her partner Rooster, tries to con Daddy Warbucks. She was most definitely not interested in being an orphan or even in the part of Annie, but had her very heart set on receiving this part. Being the practical and protective mom that I am, I tried to gently warn her that because she was the youngest age in the camp, and being especially tiny, she would probably not win an “adult” role, since they might not find it believable to have the role of Lily played by someone shorter than most of the orphans. I knew she had the ability to play any role in the play, but knew that physical appearance often plays a major role in determining who fits each character. She assured me that she could win it, and I again argued with her that it would be fun no matter which role she received and to not have her heart set on any particular role. I was so afraid that she would be disappointed, and pictured her tears upon receiving an “orphan” role. We discussed this many times over the days preceding her camp, and I tried in vain to dissuade her from expecting the part of Lily. The day of her audition, I was a nervous wreck. I kept picturing her sad little face as I left her at camp, and prayed continually for her audition and for her response when she found out what role she had been assigned.

Later that afternoon, as my son and I drove to pick her up, I worried out loud about how she was doing, and how she had handled the auditions and role assignments. Had she cried when I wasn’t there to comfort her? Was her heart broken? Had she made any friends at all in this group of kids who seemed to not even notice her? Upon arriving at the studio, we walked in to hear a conversation between one of the mothers and one of the women who worked there (who also had a child in the camp). The mother asked the camp worker how the kids had done when the parts were announced. The camp worker replied, “There were quite a few tears.” My heart twinged as the mother asked, “Was it mine?” The worker laughingly replied that it was mostly hers, who as an “experienced” camper expected to waltz in and get a leading role without much effort. She said that many of the kids who had participated before were surprised to be cast in smaller roles, thinking that they deserved all the best parts. Then she went on to say that there were a couple of new kids who had come in and wowed the judges with their auditions. She continued talking about one in particular, who she called this “tiny little blonde thing” who came in and asked to audition for Lily and then stunned the judges by reading the role with a hilarious Brooklyn accent. The worker said they were falling out of their seats laughing and knew immediately that she should have the part. Noah tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “It’s Lex, Mom”. My heart began to pound and I waited anxiously for Lexi to come out. As she entered the lobby where we were waiting, she looked downcast and wouldn’t meet my eyes. She said, “Let’s go, Mom.” I was pretty sure she was faking, but anxiously followed her to the car. She slowly buckled herself in and waited until I finally said, “Don’t keep me in suspense…I’ve been waiting all day!!!” She sighed deeply and said, “Well, I really had my heart set on the part of Lily…and THAT’S WHAT I GOT!” Then I asked her about her audition, and if she was the one who auditioned with a Brooklyn accent. She looked at me smugly and nodded with a grin. I asked her, “Do you even know where Brooklyn is?!” to which she shook her head “no”. I laughed and asked her how she knew what a Brooklyn accent sounded like. She answered, “I’ve seen the movie, Mom…I just pretended I was Kristin Chenoweth!”

Later, as I thought about this experience, I realized something. While my intentions were good (protecting my daughter’s heart), my actions were wrong. In trying to prevent the possibility of her pain, I was stealing her hope. Because I had experienced disappointment in similar circumstances as a child, I wanted to spare her. I knew the crushing disillusionment from a failed audition, and I did not want my precious little pixie to experience it. Instead of encouraging her to go for her dream, I wanted her to be “safe”. I thought if she had lower aspirations, it wouldn’t hurt as much if she failed, like I had. I loved drama growing up, but I was cursed with a sometimes paralyzing shyness when it came time to audition. The one time I valiantly overcame my fear and gave an awesome audition (my senior year), the director called me back for the lead role, but then gave it to the other girl (a junior) because she was reluctant to believe I could do it, since she hadn’t seen that in me the previous years. She told me that although I read the role better, and seniors usually got the lead, she wouldn’t give it to me. It absolutely broke my heart and that was the last time I acted.

Now I see that I was viewing Lexi’s experience through my own failure. I desperately wanted to protect her from the pain that I had felt. Instead of giving my daughter wings, I was tethering her to the ground, so she wouldn’t be hurt. And, boy, did she show me. She went in, gave it her all, and succeeded. She had the best two weeks of her life, and the experience of playing “Lily St. Regis” in Annie, Jr. is something she will never, ever forget, as long as she lives. She was an unqualified success, bringing the audience to laughter and rave reviews (people stopped us outside the theater to compliment us on her performance). But as much as she learned, I think I learned more. My job is not to clip her wings, but to help her fly. Life is full of disappointment, but if I shield her from it, she will never learn to persevere through it. I need to teach her the tools to flourish even in the midst of disappointment, not keep her from ever experiencing it. In trying to protect her, I was actually doing her a disservice. I think, in our society, we have failed our children by trying to protect them from every disappointment. We have created a generation of kids who expect to get what they want when they want it because we don’t want to “disappoint” them. We have created a school system that has removed all competition and reward, because it might hurt someone’s “self-esteem”. Instead of teaching our children to give it their best, and how to go to their Father’s arms for comfort when they fail, we have tried to prevent them from ever failing.

Next time, I will try to let Lexi hope without tarnishing it for her. And if she fails, she will know that her mother is here to hold her, and to share her hurt, and to help her find her way to the Father of all comfort.

Mothering Myths - Part I - The Myth of "Me"-Time

One of the most common complaints I hear from mothers is their lack of “me”-time. Weariness sets in and mothers long for an escape…for an hour alone to sleep, read a book, or go shopping without an entourage of strollers, diaper bags, and cranky toddlers. Mothers dream of a long, hot bubble bath without little fists banging on the door, shouting “Mommy! Jeffy spilled juice on the carpet!” They imagine long afternoon naps, uninterrupted by babies crying, clothes dryers buzzing and siblings fighting. After long days and weary nights of meeting physical, emotional and spiritual needs, sometimes for years on end, their hearts cry out, “But what about ME?”

The world’s answer to this problem is to demand our rights. We DESERVE a break, we NEED a nanny or a housekeeper or a more sympathetic husband. We OUGHT to find something that fulfills us, such as an art class or a part-time job or the time away to write a book. Our culture tells us that we couldn’t possibly find fulfillment in something as mundane as mothering, so we need to look elsewhere for our happiness. Probably the most common question I am asked (and decidedly my least favorite) when people hear that I homeschool my children is this: “But when do you have time for yourself?”

I believe that God’s answer to this dilemma is one that turns the world’s wisdom upside-down. Nowhere in Scripture does God tell us to satisfy our own needs or pursue our own desires. Instead, He instructs us to serve with humility and with our whole hearts, and to rely on Him for the strength to do so. Even more powerfully, He gives us an example of what this looks like in His son, Jesus Christ. Mark 10:45 says that “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." The Messiah himself came to earth and served endlessly, purposefully and uncomplainingly. He served when he was tired, when he was grieving, and even just hours before he was facing a horrifying death on a cross.

How did he do this? The Bible tells us that Jesus was fully human, facing all the temptations and limitations of inhabiting an earthly body. How did he keep going, keep meeting needs day after day after day? I believe he was able to do this because he had one goal—that of pleasing his heavenly Father. He drew his strength from God himself, and kept his gaze firmly fixed on his Father instead of firmly fixed on himself and his own needs and desires. The happiest moms I know are those who have fixed their eyes on Jesus. They have resolutely surrendered their own agendas and have invested their whole hearts into serving their families with love and selflessness. On the contrary, the most unsatisfied moms I know are clinging to their own wants and have listened to the world’s messages that tell them they can’t possibly be fulfilled by this role of mothering. They feel empty and unfulfilled and busy their lives with more and more activities, trying to find satisfaction.

Is being a God-focused mom instead of a me-focused mom an easy task? Absolutely not. Have I achieved this myself? Decidedly no. This is a daily battle for every mom—will I live in selfishness or surrender? While surrender is painful, and oftentimes frightening, the fruit is incomparable. When we surrender our will to God’s, He not only provides peace and joy and rest, but the strength to carry on in His power. In Isaiah 1:19, God tells the disobedient Israelites, “If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land”. I believe the same holds true for us as mothers. If we are willing and obedient to the calling God has given us as mothers, we will see the fruit of our wholehearted mothering. A passage that I discovered early in my journey as a mother (and have clung to ever since) is found in Isaiah 58:9-11:

Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

I absolutely love this passage. Although it was written by the prophet Isaiah countless years ago, it speaks to the heart of mothering. We are laboring under a yoke of oppression that the world has thrust upon us. We have swallowed the lie that mothering is a menial task instead of a divine calling. We are struggling to keep parenting in our own strength, instead of taking part in the divine power that God offers us freely. This passage teaches us that God is our source of strength and satisfaction and that if we willingly give ourselves to our children (the hungry and oppressed!), He will provide all that we need to flourish like a well-watered garden. Notice that it doesn’t say we will just survive, but that we will flourish!

Am I saying that we never need a break from our task? Of course not. Even Jesus stole away for a few hours of refreshment (and was often interrupted by his needy disciples—sound familiar?). Taking some time out to refresh and restore our souls is vitally important, but we need to make sure we are receiving our refreshment from the right source. Taking the time for a manicure or a girls’ night out can be fun and relaxing, but don’t neglect to spend some time taking in God’s refreshment by reading His word and praying daily. The lover of our souls is the one who knows exactly what we need and is ready and waiting to supply it.

So how about it? Are you willing to try an unconventional approach to mothering? Are you willing to give up the world’s quest for “Me” and devote yourself to loving service to your family? Although it won’t be easy, God promises us that He will provide the strength and joy and peace that we need. When we turn over our rights and desires to God, He promises that He will satisfy our hearts and strengthen our bodies. He will sustain us in those long days and weary nights, and help us to find joy in this season of mothering. Even better, our families will flourish when we are surrendered and are giving to them out of love, not out of obligation or guilt.

“Me”-time is a myth…we will never find satisfaction in feeding our own souls. Only in God can we flourish in this season of mothering and successfully love and train these precious children that have been entrusted to us.

"It's My Pleasure"

My oldest daughter began working this summer at a fast-food company that is known for being a Christian company. The experience has been a really great introduction to the working world and she has learned a lot of very valuable lessons. Her boss is a dedicated Christian man who sees his ownership of this restaurant as his mission to help teenagers learn to work in a safe and wholesome environment. The people who work at this place have strict rules to follow: no tattoos, no weird piercings, no outrageous hairstyles or colors. They wear a very particular uniform and their earning free food each shift depends on arriving on time, and on being tidy with shirts tucked in and fingernails clean. There is also a huge emphasis placed on their manner toward the customers. They are taught to greet each customer a certain way, to smile and be respectful always, and that the customer is always right and they are to humbly apologize for even an imagined slight. Molly has learned how to run a cash register, make change, interact with customers and many other assorted tasks. My favorite thing by far, however, is a certain trademark phrase that all employees of this restaurant use. If an employee does something for you (such as open the door or hand you your food) and you say “thank you”, they do not respond with “you’re welcome”. Their unusual reply is this—“It’s my pleasure!”

In a world where service is almost a lost art and cranky fast-food employees thrust food at you without a single word, this place stands out. From the employee who stands in the rain to walk you to the door with an umbrella, to the hard-working table cleaners and the friendly cashiers, a noticeable difference is felt. Upbeat Christian music plays on the speaker system, fresh food is prepared as you order it, and it is served with a smile. Another employee comes around offering to refill your drinks, and seeing if you need anything else. Service is offered with a willing spirit and a friendly smile. The best part of my daughter working at this place is the attitude of willing service that she brings home with her. “It’s my pleasure” has become her standard reply when I ask her to do something. Now, this is not the world’s standard for a typical 15-year-old! She has learned the valuable art of serving with a truly willing heart. It lifts my spirits and warms my heart every time I hear these precious words come out of her smiling face. Every so often, they come out with a bit of effort, but even then, I know she has learned a hard lesson…giving service when you don’t feel like it.

How would our world be different if we taught our children this art of serving? Instead of being the “Me” generation, we’d be raising a generation of kids who can truly be salt and light in this world—a true portrait of Jesus. Just like this particular restaurant stands out in a crowd of other fast-food restaurants (where the food is barely passable and the attitudes of the servers barely civil), children who know how to serve others would be an amazing beacon of God’s love. How do we teach our children this long-lost art? First of all, look in the mirror. Do our children see us serving others begrudgingly, because we know we should, or do they see us serving joyfully, because it brings glory to God? This is so hard sometimes…we are so caught up in the busyness of our own lives, that the idea of doing something for someone else is almost more than we can cope with. Yet some of the best servants I know are the ones who have the busiest lives. I know young moms who care for another young mom’s children to give them a break, even though they are barely making it themselves. I see people with very little money who are the most generous when they see someone else with a need. I know people who take meals to someone at the drop of a hat, when it may be very inconvenient for their own schedule. To me, these people know a secret… they are choosing what is more valuable over what may seem more urgent.

I am trying to work on this in myself. I want to serve without complaining, to be more aware of the needs around me and to do what I can do to help fill them. I want my children to see a willing spirit in me, so they, too, will learn to serve with willing hearts. What an amazing change it would be if more people responded with “It’s my pleasure” instead of “Yeah, whatever.” Thanks to my daughter’s employer, there is now one more family inspired to give of ourselves more willingly. Surely, if they can take pleasure in supplying fast food, we can take pleasure in supplying people with Jesus’ love.

Aroma or Stench?

Recently, I had an experience that impacted me profoundly. My two younger children had been participating in some music videos for a Christian publishing company. On the first day of our shoot, a mother and her four young daughters caught our attention. Two of the daughters were involved in the videos, and they were accompanied by their younger siblings. In the car on the way home, my son asked me if I had noticed them. Several things about this family set them apart from some of the other families present. The way they interacted with each other was noticeably different. The girls were very obedient to their mother, even though they had plenty of energy. They were skipping around the rooftop where we were filming, and when the mother told them it was time to be still and quiet (when the camera was rolling), they immediately came and sat quietly by her side. The girls looked at books and played quietly with small toys and never were a distraction or caused a disturbance. Even the baby (less than a year old) was quiet and happy throughout the morning. The oldest daughter also impressed us with her friendly nature and how she made a point to compliment everyone else on their efforts.

A few days later, at the next video session, we ran into this family again. I had thought about them several times, and determined that if we were together again, I would make the effort to meet this mother and her children. My son had also mentioned that he hoped we would see them again and have the opportunity to get to know them. We ended up meeting this family right away, as soon as we walked into the park where we were filming. We were able to spend the entire morning and most of the afternoon together and a friendship was born. Being around this family was a breath of the freshest air. The way the siblings treated each other and treated me and my children was so appealing. Their sweet, open natures drew us to them and made us want to see these girls again. In a world where children are almost expected to be cutting and cruel, and where bullying is a serious problem in schools, resulting even in tragic shootings, these girls were delightful. The older girls treated the younger ones with kindness and compassion, not with mean spirits and impatience. They patiently helped their little siblings and didn’t try to exclude them or mistreat them. Were they perfect? Of course not, yet they showed an understanding of Jesus’ love that is rare to see even in adults today.

It was a good reminder for me. When my children were small, I was diligent about training them to treat each other kindly. Harsh words were dealt with, bad attitudes were corrected. Now that they are older, I fear that sometimes I let these things slide in the busyness of life. Being around another family who shared our vision for family unity and honor reminded me that this is something I treasure and that God still expects me to train my children in these things, and that we aren’t finished yet. I realized anew that children who treat others with respect and honor are a powerful witness to others, both Christians and non-Christians alike. These beautiful children were the “aroma of Christ” to us, and we found it pleasing indeed. As my children and I discussed how much fun it was to be around this family, we were inspired afresh to watch how we treated each other and the people we came into contact with.

My prayer is that my children will be such an influence on others around them and that I will be diligent in training them in these matters. I earnestly desire for my family to be such a blessing to others as this sweet family has been to me. So I encourage you to ask yourself, “Are my children the sweet aroma of Christ to those around them (including their siblings!) or do they reek of worldliness in how they treat others?”

In the Hands of God

Three nights ago, I had a terrifying experience. My son had complained of a migraine, so I decided to keep him home from church. My husband and daughters left for church, and I sent Noah to bed with an icepack for his pounding head. About fifteen minutes later, he stumbles into my room, gasping for breath and crying, “Mom, something’s wrong…I can’t breathe!” I looked up from my laptop and saw a terrible sight—my son, with his eyes swollen almost shut, his nose twice the size of normal, clutching his chest and panicking as he tried to draw a breath. I jumped up and raced to help him, praying silently in my soul for God to rescue us. I calmed him down, as his panic was making the asthma attack worse, grabbed his inhalers and a Benadryl pill and helped him get the medicine down a throat that was almost swollen shut. I quickly made a decision to get him in the car and race to the nearest ER after determining that the inhalers had eased his breathing enough to buy us the time to get to the hospital for help. We raced down the road, pushing the speed limit—I figured if I got pulled over, the policeman could help us get to the hospital faster. We arrived at the Emergency Room, walked in and when the triage desk took one look at my son, they immediately grabbed a wheelchair and took him to the back, in front of several other waiting patients. That, more than anything, scared me.

As the nurses got my son hooked up to a pulse oximeter (which measures the amount of oxygen in the blood), I could see that his oxygen levels were very low. He was now covered from head to toe in angry red hives, and his hands were swollen to the point of being unusable. A doctor came in almost immediately (another ER first for us!) and ordered an epinephrine shot and some prednisone to reduce the swelling. Within minutes of the shot, Noah’s breathing eased dramatically and he relaxed against the pillows.

The doctor, who was wonderful with Noah (the best we’ve ever had in an emergency room situation), believed that his reaction was probably due to something airborne, but was unable to determine what that might be. He decided to observe Noah for 2-3 hours before releasing us, to make sure he was stable. He warned me that when reactions come on this fast, it is very dangerous. He gave us a prescription for an Epi-pen (which delivers an emergency dose of epinephrine), so we can be prepared for next time. “Next time?!” my anxious heart silently cried, “I don’t ever want to experience this again!” We spent the next 3-1/2 hours waiting for his symptoms to subside so we could go home. Noah and I had some great conversations, watched a little TV, and I watched with relief as my boy’s hives faded and his swelling subsided. Inside, I prayed fervently to the God who made my little boy to protect him and to help us through this terrible ordeal.

I know that God was with us during those dark hours as I watched my son suffer. I felt His hand on me as I was able to calm Noah with soothing words and a calm demeanor, even though inside I was panicking, too. Both my husband and my son later commented on how unruffled I was throughout the whole ordeal…I know it was only because God provided what I needed to help save my son’s life. Noah and I also believe that God provided for us through Noah’s headache, as strange as that may sound. If he had felt well, and we had gone to church, I would not have had the tools to save his life. I was no longer carrying his inhalers with me, as his asthma had improved so much in recent years that it seemed unnecessary. I wouldn’t have had Benadryl, either, which helped to counteract the allergic reaction. Another provision that made the whole experience much more bearable is that from home, we were only about 7 minutes from our brand new hospital, with a terrific emergency room team. If we had been at church, we would have had to go to a different hospital, where we have had horrendous emergency room experiences. Looking back, it is so easy to see how we were held safely in God’s hands. Even though I was alone dealing with this crisis, I never felt alone, knowing that God was with us every step of the way.

Two days later, Noah and my husband were scheduled to go to the mountains for a father-son retreat. My heart was filled with fear at the thought of my son being outdoors, with all those possible allergens, and having another attack in a remote place without a hospital nearby. I did everything possible to ensure his safety—locating the nearest ambulance service, writing out detailed instructions for my husband for Noah’s medications, suggesting that my husband find the nearest landline in case his cell phone didn’t work, etc. Finally, though, I had to release control of the situation…it was out of my hands. I had to watch my husband and son drive away, knowing there was nothing I could do to protect him for the next couple of days.

Ultimately, it comes down to this…do I really believe that Noah belongs to God and is in His care? Am I willing to trust Him that whatever comes, He loves Noah best and has a perfect plan for his life? Why is it so hard to let go, and trust, and realize that I can’t keep him safe in this world? Sometimes I believe that God gave me Noah just to teach me these lessons in surrender. Those of you who know his whole life story know that God has saved this boy over and over again. He is a miracle many times over, and God has faithfully watched over this precious young man, working His will in Noah’s life. And I will rest in the peace that comes from knowing this: Noah is safe in God’s hands.