Once upon a time, there was a mother who claimed to have faith in God, and in His will and mercy. And then, her only child started Summer Camp. For the first time. Ever. Subsequently, proverbial Hell broke loose.Faith was replaced by worries, doubt and flashbacks of every Criminal Minds episode her excellent memory could conjure up. Hours seemed longer than their supposed 60 minutes duration. The clock was consulted every minute and a half until pick up time rolled around. Then again, the pick up ritual started 45 minutes before its actual time as this “faithful” mother waited anxiously in her car to pick up the apple of her eye. Through her own eyes, the camp monitors looked youngert han newborns, and their capability to shield her child from harm was questioned in internal debates where irrational fears yelled louder than reason and won every argument.
As the first week was coming to an end, a new danger loomed its ugly face to confront me: THE WEEKLYOUTING. Never had so few letters frightened me more.
The local Beach.
The local what????
You mean an outing where my child will ride a bus (cue in series of horrific bus accidents rolling in front of my eyes like a movie reel)then go to a beach (cue in all articles about drowning, dry drowning, symptoms of water in lungs) and then play in the nearby park (hello all news headlines about kidnappings and lost children, long time no scare!).
No thank you, my child will stay with me on the day of the outing where he will be safe and sound. Even better, we will go watch Finding Dory! There! Who needs a fun day at the beach with kids his age and an opportunity to develop autonomy and confidence? With his mommy he goes!
And so we went and enjoyed the movie (Friendly notice:Finding Nemo rules) and I was feeling smug about my wisdom in shielding my son from the dangers that awaited him at the beach. On our way out, he let go of my hand. His plan was to hide behind a poster and “startle” me as I walked by him, unsuspecting of his presence. As far as plans go, his seemed brilliant to him.
And then the seconds seemed longer than days. My search was hindered by a soccer team that was exiting the hall as I was trying frantically to make my way out to look for him. I called out his name, in vain. He was hiding after all. I searched as I was losing consciousness from the fear that had gripped me in a choke-hold. How breathtakingly ironic, I thought, losing your child after watching a movie about a child searching for the parents she lost and after denying your child the chance for a fun outing because of fear of losing him. If God wanted to make a point, it was game set and match – a million times over.
30 seconds after “losing” him, he emerged from his hiding place. He found me. My heart started to beat again, it had stopped, I am sure it had stopped. I felt relief and gratitude – the moment passed briefly as I had important business to attend to – discipline and admonishment. Once those parenting tasks were out of the way, I had time to reflect on m folly. My all too natural and maternal folly.
I had found him or he had found me.
The Question remains, when will I finally LOSE my fear, let go of my worries and surrender to the Peace that our Lord promised us?
“Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you” (1 Peter 5:7 NLT)
“Be anxious fornothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” (Philippians4:6-7).
Other posts about family: https://www.mireillemishriky.com/saint-marina-and-our-miracle-baby/
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