When It Hurts Like a Mother

I’m about to write words I truly couldn’t imagine ever writing. My oldest son has decided to go live with his dad in Georgia. This urge for time with his father is not a surprise to me. He’s wanted this for years. He’s approached me several times and asked about moving in with his dad. I would sympathize with him and let him know, "It’s natural to desire time with your dad," but I’ve always said that I don’t believe that’s what is best for him. We would discuss the why’s and the why-nots, and then the conversation would end.

But this time was different. The conversation didn't end. It kept going. He had made up his mind. My reasons for him to stay no longer carried the weight they used to carry. I could speculate about how much of this desire was placed on Jax by his father, but it doesn't do any good to villainize someone — especially based on an assumption. The truth is, this is an impossible position to place on a kid. It's totally natural for a child to want to experience living with both of their parents. Ultimately, that's how the family unit was designed to work: your mother and father raise you under one roof. It was never in God's design for a person without a fully developed brain to be given the option to choose who they live with.

The roots of divorce spread far and wide. A broken home is part of the collateral damage, and children are left with a deficit. I, as a mother, can never replace their father. Their dad can never replace me, as their mom. Jax has felt that gap since the divorce. It would be wrong of me to think I (or someone else) could substitute a father. Just as God can't be supplemented with anything else.   

I’ve believed that I was the best person to parent Jax. And even though I don’t want him to go, Jax believes his dad is the best person to parent him through these final teen years. I realize that might sound a little egocentric—being the best for the job. But isn't this what God is telling us when He gives us these kids? "You're the mom for the job." The problem is, I can only be Jax's mother. I can't be Jax's father. And, right now, all he wants is his dad.

Sometimes—when we want a thing so desperately—we sabotage all of the good things in our life in an attempt to make our desire the only option. We will double down on a lie, we isolate and push away loved ones, we twist people's words and actions, we basically light a match and throw it over our shoulder as we walk away. How do I know this? I've lived this out with my kid. I feel like I've been forced to watch my son drink poison every day as a form of torture.  

To be quite honest, these last few months have left me in some dark places. I'm battling feelings of rejection, shame, and failure. The facts quickly disappear into the background and I'm left in a thick fog of lies: 

"He doesn't want me anymore." 

                         "There's something I could've done to make him want to stay."                                                                                                                                                              

                                                                                                                        "I must be a bad mom." 

The truth is: if I had done everything perfectly nothing would change Jax's deep need to spend this time with his dad. This situation is broken and messed up because divorce is broken and messed up. However, that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to grieve. It just means I need to grieve without the lies clouding my path. Lies are merely a distraction. Truth be told, right now I feel like a kid walking to the grocery store with only a mental list of items. If I don't repeat what I need to buy, I'll forget. "Milk, eggs, bread. Milk, eggs, bread." Would a tangible list written on paper be helpful? Of course! Who wouldn't want something to hold onto that can be seen and touched? Tangibles are so comforting. But when I commit important things to memory instead of relying on a piece of paper—when I allow a truth to take up residence in my brain (or heart)—I'm more confident and I can access it anytime and anywhere.

Right this minute I'm practicing my list of truths. I'm making space in my mind for them. I've got them on repeat until I can subconsciously mutter them:

"God has a hope and a future for Jax."

                                          "God is near to my broken heart."

                                                                                        "I am never alone."

                                                                                                           "God is the Redeemer and He will redeem my son!"

My darlings, if we don't condition our hearts to remember truth then we will quickly lose sight of our purpose. I'm sharing all of this with you in hopes that it helps you process through some of your painful moments as well. We all struggle with lies. The enemy loves to whisper distractions into our ears. My list of "Milk, eggs, bread." gets twisted into a completely new list if I'm not intentional and focused on the true list. Now that I've filtered out the lies, I'm not feeling nearly as fragile as I did at the beginning. Practice speaking truth over the battle you're in. The lies become more obvious and you'll feel stronger as you get more confident in voicing God's truths over your circumstances!