Leading up to this morning, we were all speculating how it would feel. All through the summer I’ve had moments where I would smile internally (and sometimes let a tear of contentment leak out) as I realized next summer may be completely different. We will have one who leaves the nest and heads off to college, perhaps before we take another family vacation. The reservation for five will become four and things will feel very different. I’ve also begun to prepare for what happens after the season of raising them. When it is time for them to make their own decisions and have the liberty to choose where they spend their time and with whom.

I’ve learned a lot in the past few years about what I can expect and what I can let go of. God has given me a ton of grace to release ownership at all and understand that these boys have two parents and I am not one of them. Although the responsibility and cost is equal, the benefit of loyalty and pride belong to the biologicals. It doesn’t sting like it used to, and now that time has brought clarity, I have a peace about this fact. The reality can still blindside me at times, however, what has emerged, is the truth that I am impacting their lives in a significant way that even they cannot see.

Last night, we circled up in the living room after a great family time around the table. We held hands in a circle and waited for their father to pray for and over them for the coming school year. One by one, I laid my hands on them and prayed what the Lord laid on my heart to pray. As my spirit connected with their Creator on their behalf, I felt a release of promise and blessing. In the holy moments following that prayer time, I settled into a quiet understanding that these are the moments that are given to me to steward. These eternal moments of sowing into the fabric of their spirit, I get to play a part in their shaping that we can’t quite get our heads around.

I ache in a deep deep way for the unquestioned loyalty that a child gives their parent. I ache for the unconditional acceptance that a child willingly gives their father and mother. I cry for the hesitation I can still feel when they hug me sometimes.  I long for a day when I don’t feel the guilt for many unspoken resentments that come with blended life.  But moments like last night, when I can pronounce the things of heaven over the life of these children, go a long way to bring perspective and healing.

I love the children in my life and today has reminded me that although these babies (including nieces and nephews) may not carry my physical DNA, I can pray that one day they will carry my spiritual DNA.  I believe that their destiny will be fuller because their Hopey has prayed.

Happy New (School) Year!