C is for Cage

Since my other post is a little "out there" I thought I might try another, not so seedy one. So here is "C is for Cage."

I like things in order. I like things neat. I like everything put away in it's perfect little place where it is safe and free of harm. I like control - or rather I should say I like to be in control.

When I became a mom - and when I say that, I mean when I became pregnant, I lost all control. (I know now that honestly, I probably never had any control in the first place, but the illusion was there) I came to realize that I could do everything right - take my vitamins, exercise, eat only healthy foods, read all the 'right' books, give birth in the 'right' hospital and yet - I could not control the baby. She was going to be born when she wanted to be born, and her health, while encouraged by my habits, was not in my control. Doing everything right did not guarantee that she was going to be born perfect.

As she grew, I baby proofed the house, brought only the right books into our home, went only to the most sanitized places, washed and rewashed all her clothes and yet, she still got earaches. She still stubbed her toes. She still skinned her knees. As much as I would try to keep her safe from all harm - I couldn't do it. I could not control it all.

And then came the day that she went completely beyond my reach. The day she started driving. Oh the sleepless nights - the wasted time stressing until she got home - as if that could add one more ounce of protection over her.

The truth is - I wanted to put her in a cage. A nice safe place where no harm could befall her. A place where I could keep her safe and free from all dangers. No skinned knees, no stubbed toes or broken hearts or 1:30 AM phone calls about a flat tire in a bad part of town. I wanted so badly to put her in a cage where I could control everything.

But a cage, even built with the best of intentions would not keep her from harm. A cage would become a trap. She would suffocate, she would not grow to lean and trust in God. She would not experientially know His love and grace if she never skinned her knee or stubbed her toe, or - dare I say it, had her heart broken. It is in the dark places - the scary places where we learn His power and His care for us.

Yes, I want my daughter safe and protected, and I do not send her out into the world foolishly, but I am sending her out under God's protection and His control - after all, that's all there really is anyway!