Closer Than The Air In Their Lungs

There is a particular kind of ache that comes with loving a child you can no longer tuck in at night. 

A few weeks ago, I dropped my youngest daughter off for her freshman year of college. Apparently, after loving someone for eighteen years, you’re supposed to help unpack a dorm room and then drive away, leaving a piece of your heart behind while the rest of you goes home.People do this every year. And they do it voluntarily.

I thought the years of being on high alert with your children would be the ones when they needed constant supervision. Turns out, watching them find their own way requires an entirely different kind of strength. 

You hear plenty about surviving toddlers and teenagers. You brace yourself for those years, assuming that once your children become adults, your nervous system will get to retire for a season. It does not.

Loving an adult child means learning how to be available without inserting yourself into every situation. It means listening to a hard story without immediately assigning yourself the lead role in fixing it. (For the record, I am extremely good at helping when no one has asked.)

Whether you are sending yours to kindergarten, helping them move into a dorm, or praying over an adult child whose life looks nothing like you hoped, I’m certain you know the feeling of loving someone more than you can protect them.

It’s easy to say our children are in God’s hands when everyone is home and you can see for yourself that they’re okay. It gets much harder when you can’t hear them come through the door or when they are hurting but they aren’t ready to talk about it. You have just enough information to worry about them but nowhere near enough data to help.

Yesterday, I heard a quote that might be exactly what your anxious heart needs to hear. On the days you worry about your child, just remember that God whispers, ‘I am closer to them than the air in their lungs.’

Read that again. Closer than the air in their lungs.
I’m talking about the child who moved away or the one who seems lost. 
It could also be the one who is doing beautifully but still has you checking your phone at midnight. Every night.

And when they’re hurting, and you would carry every ounce of that pain for them if you could, He’s right there, too. He is that close.

We can get so caught up in how far our children are from us that we forget how near they are to Him. There is no distance to cover before God can reach them. Nor is there any missing information that He needs to find out.

And lest you think that He is only watching over them when you remember to pray, He’s been loving your child since before you knew you were having one. Heartbreak will come, and sometimes we will have to watch them walk through the very thing we would have done anything to prevent. 
This is where trust becomes real.

So take the worry to Him every time it returns, even if you just prayed about it ten minutes ago and have since thought of a few additional details that He may find helpful. Ask Him to show you when to step in and when to give them room.And when there is nothing left for you to do but pray, go to bed and let God stay up.

The bedroom down the hall may be empty now.
But wherever your child lays their head tonight, God is already there.
And most importantly, whatever season they are in, you can rest knowing they will never take a single step beyond the reach of God.