He drops me off by the door of the hospital. I have lost track of how many times. This season reveals a reversal of roles for my eighteen year old son and I that neither of us anticipated. However, we are learning to navigate through it.
The last eighteen years have been filled with intentional practices meant to shape his independence. I didn’t imagine the implications of my son’s first coos and rolling over. I reacted to his first steps with both excitement and worry. He literally began walking down the path of independence from me.
It seems counter productive through those seemingly long years to push our children to take on new tasks that they are afraid to tackle. We know full well what will result. But we push anyway, knowing that each new skill is changing our defined roles at the moment. But our changes in posture unfold as God designed it. So we allow God to shape us in the process.
As I lay on my recliner in the living room, he brings me my lunch. Nothing fancy, it’s a bologna sandwich served on our everyday plates. But sometimes the profound moments arrive disguised in the ordinary ones. Because my mobility has been hampered, he has taken on care giving roles. I used to make his bologna sandwich. Now he makes mine.
This summer looks nothing like what either of us expected. But life is like that. We are called at anytime to change paths, postures, and perspectives. Participating in these moments with him feels bittersweet. But I am grateful.
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