Surrendering My Sons

Monday as I dropped the boys off to school I tried to hard 
not to imagine that the worst could happen. 

Even though I know it can. 

I've seen the faces on the television. 

I've heard the cries of the children and teachers who experienced the nightmare 
and the cries of the families who have lost dear ones.

I have wept over and over again since the unfathomable news broke on Friday. I sat that day watching the tragedy unfold and lifting up prayers without words. The only word that could come out of my mouth was "Jesus..." knowing that the Holy Spirit would have to speak the rest for me. 

I began to count down the minutes until my sons would come home from school and resisted the urge to pick them up early. Deep down in my momma-heart I just needed to have them close...hug them tight...kiss their cheeks. I needed to look at them and say how much I love them.

I was once again reminded that I surrender my sons every day. Not to the world, but to Him. Each day asking Him to invade their space and permeate their world. Knowing that He loves them and cares for them even more than I do. That He desires spectacular lives and has big plans for them even more than I do. 

In that surrender I lift my hands up and up, physically offering them to Him...these sons of mine. Trusting. Believing. Hoping. Oh my heart. Some days it is harder than others. The surrender. Monday was one of those days.

This I declare about the Lord:
He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;
    he is my God, and I trust him.
Psalm 91:2