August

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. I spread out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Psalm 143:5

Somehow it happened. The days are getting shorter. The cicadas are singing. The air is thick with late summer. And my son will be returning to school.

It’s a very good thing. Logan found his niche at Wheaton College. His studies went well. He enjoyed strong, Christ-centered friendships. His confidence stretched. His relationship with God soared. Over the past year, I’ve seen a man emerge where there was a boy last fall, and I’m deeply grateful for the blessing.

Praise God! Miracle strides! Sweet answers to prayer!

It has been good. Precious, amazing, grace-filled good.

But there’s still a place in my mama’s heart that hurts to see him go. It’s a tightening in my throat when I set his place at the table. Or a pull in my soul when I walk past his room that is, for a couple of days, still rich with his presence. It’s an appreciation of his words that makes me laugh and makes me cry and always makes me glad. It’s seeing his shoes by the back door or wondering where Zay is and finding him in Logan’s arms. It’s wanting to look back but needing to look ahead.

Endless summer days have become numbered, and the numbers are bittersweet.

Thank you, God ,that my child is well. That he’s safe and strong. That he’s full of life.

Thank you, God, for his joy. For his peace. For the work that You’ve done in his life.

Watch over him, Lord. Mold him into the man you want him to be. Call him to Your purpose.

Oh, and Lord God, remember me, too.

Steady my spirit and make weak places strong.

I remember who You are and what You’ve done.

Help me, again, through August.