“Mom, can I have a snuggle?” It was my 11-year-old son.
I closed my laptop. “Of course. What’s up?”
“I’m anxious about moving,” he said, nestling in next to me. I nodded. This has been a common theme around here since we signed the contract to sell our apartment.
“What makes you anxious about it?” I asked.
“I think it’s not knowing what it’s going to be like, or where we’ll live.”
This made sense; we close the sale in August, and rentals are only now starting to be listed. We don’t know yet where our new home will be.
I reminded Stephen that he’s not being asked to re-invent himself as a cowhand in Nebraska. Hopefully he’ll still be in walking distance to his friends.
“I can think of two things that might help,” I offered. He looked at me with interest. “The first is to think of the not-knowing as the cross you’re asked to carry right now. Accept it, and carry it out of love for Jesus.”
He nodded, though he clearly wasn’t wild about the idea. He’d rather have the uncertainty go away.
“What’s the other thing?”
“To focus on thankfulness. Give thanks for all the years you’ve lived here. Give thanks that we can afford to stay close. Give thanks that you’re not living in a war zone, or fleeing to a country where you don’t speak the language. Give thanks that you have belongings to pack.”
Stephen nodded again. I could see him thinking, and was tempted to drive the lesson home with another word or two, but decided that silence was the better path. It’s easier to carry a cross or to be thankful when Mom hugs instead of harangues you. Love has a way of communicating the important things, so I gave him a hug, and let it be.
