Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Sad (07/26/07)
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TITLE: A Mother's Prayer | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dawn Thomason
08/01/07 -
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I know God heard my prayer. He promises to be attentive to the cries of His children. Perhaps my prayer did resemble a bargaining tool, but it was prayed with sincerity of heart. Didn’t that count for something? I promised to give God anything, EVERYTHING, just please don’t take my children from me. They were all I had left.
John* left our home when the boys were 3 years and 18 months respectively. Though he said he was leaving me, not the boys, I felt he deserted us all. As in any marriage, neither of us was without fault, but I was at least willing to try. I knew their Dad loved them dearly, and the boys adored their Dad. However, why should he have the privilege of family when he wasn’t willing to work through the hard times in our marriage? This was definitely a chapter in my life when God didn’t make sense. Why should I be the one to suffer? After all, I had stayed.
For eight years the boys and I were a trio. We did everything together. Jocks by birth, we played sports according to the season, be it baseball, basketball, soccer, or football. Collecting the latest baseball cards and POGS from the local market was a favorite pastime. Visits to Grandma and Grampers’ house; Wednesday night meals and Awana at church; summer vacations to Kings Dominion. We were inseparable -- except for every other weekend when they spent time with their Dad.
For many people, Friday nights represent hot dates and fun times. In my life, Fridays represented going home to beds with no children to tuck in or kiss good night. They were sad times. Often I sensed the boys calling for me in the night. Though I knew they were safe with their Dad, not being able to reach out and touch them was heart wrenching. God alone was my comfort. Sunday nights were joyous reunions, full of hugs, tickles, and extra kisses goodnight. How I loved Sunday nights!
At age 10 and 8, the boys began to express their desire to live with their Dad. Why was God doing this to me? Didn’t He remember my prayer? While I sensed the Lord prodding me to let the children go, I was determined to stand my ground. After all, I had asked Him never to take my children from me. In my stubbornness, the Lord allowed our home to become quite unsettled. When I could no longer bear to watch my children be “pawns” between their parents, I determined to let go and let God. The boys went to live with their Dad.
After the boys left, I searched the scriptures for understanding and comfort. God led me to the story of Moses and his mother, Jocabed. Jocabed willingly placed her son in a basket in the Nile to protect him from Pharaoh. She had faith that God would protect her child. I learned from this account that I was not turning over my children to the hands of man (namely, their Dad), but I was placing them in the hands of God. As God had great plans for Moses, so I came to believe that God had great plans for my sons. While living with their Dad, they learned many things that I could not have taught them. They spent their adolescent years on a farm, learning to rise early and work long and hard. They developed discipline and a tremendous work ethic. They refurbished houses, gaining carpentry skills, and learning to use a myriad of power tools.
As Moses’ time in Pharaoh’s palace was a training ground for his future service to God, I believe my sons’ time with their Dad was as well. Time alone will tell how God will use all they learned down on the farm.
The boys are now 22 and 20. I am only now beginning to see what God has known all along. He has a purpose and a plan for HIS boys -- and their mother. The moral of this story -- never be afraid to entrust to God what you hold most dear. After all, everything we have is His already.
* John is a pseudonym
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