tuck in
Tuck in with toddlers was short and sweet.
Once upon a time.
A bedtime story. If I was feeling generous – two. A hug. Maybe a sip of water and then see ya’ tomorrow, baby.
Bedtimes with teens and pre-teens is another story altogether.
Seldom do I feel as genuinely overwhelmed with this mega task of parenting as I do post the bedtime tuck in routine.
The stuff that is resting in these kids’ minds. It’s gigantic.
And it’s not that I think I have to have all of the answers.
It’s that somehow, it seems as if these five fabulous human beings, think that maybe I do. That maybe I do have all the answers. I mean, I know they don’t actually think that. I know they are sharing their tender and precious hearts with me because they trust me. Because they love me.
But I feel the weight of their questions. The weight of their hearts and the weight of their burdens. I feel the heavy of the unknown and the not yet.
Bed One:
Mom, if life is just this one thing and then you die, what’s the point?
Well, do you think life is just all there is?
I don’t know.
What do you think about the idea of heaven?
I’d like to believe it, but I don’t know.
Yeah. I get that. One of my favorite phrases spoken in the Bible are the words, “Help my unbelief.”
Yeah. I like that.
Bed Two:
Mom, my throat hurts. And can you scratch my back?
Bed Three:
I really have been thinking about how hard it is to start things. Like – if I can’t do it perfectly, I don’t really want to do it.
Bed Four:
I’m afraid when I go to that class, people will know what I don’t know. I’m afraid.
Bed Five:
Mom, this has been bothering me for days. I saw this one picture on Pinterest. Can I tell you about it?
And on and on it goes. Night after night.
Questions. Big ideas. The need for a little reassurance or connection.
It’s my honor, truly, to pop from bed to bed in this house and to sit beside these people for a few minutes at the close of another day.
But the enormity of the task is never lost upon me.
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