Why I Cried

Last week I cried because Josiah told me he didn't want me to sing his lullaby* anymore when I tuck him into bed.

What??? How can this be? He's only 5! I didn't expect this kind of separation from the parent until much closer to adolescence!

I handled myself calmly in front of Josiah, then talked with Jeff about it later because I wanted his opinion about whether I should simply honor Josiah's wishes and not sing his lullaby anymore or whether I should "encourage" Josiah to let me keep singing it. One of the reasons I thought I should "encourage" Josiah to let me keep singing it is because I've realized that sometimes our children need to be taught how to love, for example, and what is appropriate in various situations. To be specific, a few years ago, probably shortly after we moved to Virginia, Josiah went through a phase where, if someone said "I love you" to him, he would not say it back. Before this phase, he would be quick to answer with an "I love you," but suddenly he was choosing to remain silent. At that point in time, it seemed right to let him know that when someone says "I love you" to you, it is loving and kind and appropriate to say it back to them. Obviously, I'm not talking about some child abuser in the grocery store saying it...this is about how to respond when Mommy or Daddy or a very close family member says it. So we talked about it with Josiah, and it didn't take him long at all to go back to his happy, loving way of answering "I love you."

So this lullaby episode rolls around, and I'm thinking, "Is this another situation where I need to teach him how to receive love and show it? Or do I just let it go?" In times of perplexity like that, I always turn to Jeff and seek his advice...and man, am I ever grateful for that!!! I can't even count the number of times I have found such security from knowing I can get Jeff's opinion and I don't have to rely on my own ideas in various circumstances.

Can you guess what Jeff said when I asked him how to handle Josiah's request for no more lullabies? He said, "Well, he's growing up, and you need to respect that." That was NOT the answer I wanted to hear! But I knew in my heart it was right. That, however, did not keep my heart from hurting deeply; and as I lay in bed that night, the tears rolled down my face and into my ears (know that feeling?) while I made myself untie the apron strings a little more. Being an emotional woman, my thoughts even jumped ahead to Josiah's wedding day, and I sobbed as I thought about another woman coming into his life and being more important to him than me. I really don't know how mothers let their sons go when they get married. I also don't know how they let their daughters go, but I don't have to worry about that one yet. :)

That night I KNEW I was being overly emotional and blowing things WAY out of proportion, but my mind did a poor job of overruling my heart to get me to stop crying. Eventually I fell asleep. :) It was, without a doubt, my hardest letting-go moment yet...but I'm sure it won't be my hardest one ever!

Speaking of letting go, a few nights ago we were driving past the school that Josiah would attend if he went to a public school; and it was meet-your-teacher night. As we watched parents and young students file into the building, I was reminded again of how incredibly happy I am that I don't have to cross that hurdle yet! :) Although, to be honest, that--my difficulty with letting go--is not our main reason for homeschooling. :)

* His lullaby is "The Cuppycake Song." "You're my honeybunch, sugarplum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin..." Josiah was born on a Thursday, we brought him home from the hospital on a Saturday, the next day was Father's Day and Jeff was preaching on the topic "The Apple of My Eye." In the middle of his sermon preparation that Saturday night, he called me to come into our study and he played for me this lullaby he had found online which included the phrase, "You're the apple of my eye." It was "The Cuppycake Song." I bawled my eyes out. Ever since then, I have sung that lullaby to Josiah before naps, night-time sleep, and other times when he has needed comforting--truly countless times during the past 5 years. It is unspeakably precious to me.

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This week I cried--today actually--as I was tucking Josiah into bed for his nap. As near as I can remember it in my tear-blurred mind, this is how our conversation went.

Josiah and I were talking about how we need to find a lullaby for our new baby. Josiah suggested that we use David's lullaby for our baby, but I told him that we liked having a different lullaby for each child. He, of course, asked why. And I told him that we always wanted each child to know that even though they were different from each other, we love them all SO MUCH, and they are all so very special to us. Then I said that with his lullaby, for example, every time I hear it for the rest of my life, it will remind me of him and of how much I love him.

I was not thinking at all about the lullaby incident last week, and I wasn't feeling particularly emotional--was certainly not trying to bring on the emotional volcano that erupted. Josiah dissolved into tears, and the closest thing I could understand is that he was sad about me dying and not being able to sing his lullaby anymore. The issue of me dying comes up from time to time, and is always accompanied by tears on the part of Josiah and attempts at comfort on my part. But today, I was so touched by his tears that I just gave in and lay down beside him and cried, too!

Eventually, when I could talk again, I reassured Josiah of some things:
1. crying is good; it's a way to release emotion; God created it so our eyes could overflow when our hearts were too full
2. Jesus cried
3. death is only a doorway, not an end
4. facing death is one of the hardest things in life
5. death and heaven is like this...if you had never been to McDonald's but people had told you how wonderful it was there, all the yummy food, the toys, the playground, etc., but if you were too afraid to go through the door, you would miss out...death is like that door...we know that heaven is a wonderful place, but we haven't been there so we feel nervous about going through the door to get there
6. I showed Josiah the book The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis, one of my all-time favorite books about facing death and embracing heaven...I think Josiah is a little too young for it, but I'm almost tempted to take it along with us on our beach trip and start reading it to him there...hmm, not sure what to do about that
7. Josiah didn't think he would be prepared when the time came for me to die, but I told him again how a lot of times when people die, we are sad, but we are also prepared for it...like when my grandparents died, it was very sad, but we were basically prepared because we knew they were suffering here on earth and it was far better for them to go on to heaven...I assured him that God knows everything and He knows the time when everything will happen: when I will die, when Josiah will be ready to bear it, etc.
8. I suggested that Josiah visualize holding a big burden (his fear of my death), then imagine stretching out his arms and putting it into the arms of Jesus who is big enough and strong enough to carry that burden for him
9. I told Josiah that God will carry him, just like a mommy or a daddy carry their little child, just like Daddy carried Josiah last night to his own bed after he fell asleep in ours. God will carry him through his grief, just like that.

Whew, what a talk. What a tender heart Josiah has. I think he was surprised to see how touched I was by all of this; but crying together with him was actually really sweet and, I think, bonding for both of us.

It was actually hard to write all of this. Tears constantly threaten as I type—and occasionally spill over. But someday, years from now, I hope Josiah will read this and know beyond a shadow of a doubt, how loved and cherished he is.

When the day of my death comes, if I have any advance warning of it, I don’t know how I’ll ever say goodbye to him. The burden that he carries in this area is matched by my own; and like him, I have to continually visualize myself giving that over to Jesus. It’s simply too big for me to carry. But I thank God for a “big enough” and “strong enough” Savior to carry my burden—and to carry me.