And then there's the one who will be fitted for contacts next week. They're expensive, but will help him in his chosen sport. The sport we encouraged him to get involved in because we believed it would help build self-confidence. It's working, and it's worth the two hours a week and a hundred dollars a month.
And the one who just got glasses himself. He's still getting used to putting them on in the morning and not leaving them laying around, so we've needed to give a lot of reminders and teach, and reteach, and reteach again.
And the girl whose first ballet recital is coming up. She's nervous and excited and ready to shine, buoyed on by the smiles of her parents and the applause she receives when she practices in the living room.
And the one who needs a dentist appointment.
And all three that need a haircut.
And the relationship between two of them that is requiring extra nurturing.
And the son who has forgotten how to spend time with the Lord in the morning and could use time with a parent reading him the Word when he wakes up so he can remember how to go slowly and glean.
And the daughter who is memorizing a special verse at the moment because her mommy thinks it will help her dwell on the things that should be dwelled on.
And the four pairs of eyes that are being taught what's best to look at, and what should not be viewed.
And the four pairs of lips that are being trained how to build one another up and how to remain true and faithful to one another.
And one who needs to know she can hear God. And the one who needs to know he is bigger than what he sees in the mirror. And the one who needs to know he has powerful gifts, even if they don't look like the ones he admires in other people. And the one who needs to know he's a son of the Most High God, not a slave.
And the table manners that have somehow slidden backwards and have sent a mom scrambling for a plan to make genteel eaters out of ruffians.
So many needs. Some big. Some small. All important to me.
If I ever get overwhelmed as a mother, it's when I sit and ponder the needs, wondering how I can ever meet them all.
And if I ever get delivered from fear that I'm not enough, it's when I remember I have a Father, too.
I have a Father who knows my needs. My kids' needs. Your needs. My neighbor's needs.
How overwhelming that would be. To know the needs of each of your children, all over the world. The big ones. The small ones. The nation-sized ones.
Yet, He is never not enough. He always knows. He always has an answer, a plan.
And I offer him my precious treasures, the children He gave me. And we talk about their needs together. And He speaks. And He gives me strategies for the ones I can help with. And He tells me He'll work on the ones I can't.
I leave that place lighter, the weight of the needs having shifted in the yoke to the One who can carry them better than me.
And I give thanks that even in the moment of recognizing the next need, I can crawl into His lap and whisper it in His ear. "Come, Daddy, to this one. We need You."
