You're the front line and the last defense.
You create the rules, remember the rules, uphold the rules, punish and reward according to the keeping of said rules.
When her father declares, she's been picking up some weight, and helpfully recommends that she eat better and exercise, you're the one who needs to follow through. You're the feet on the street, cutting back portions, explaining healthiness versus attractiveness, identifying ways to fit a 30 minute walk into the 20 minutes available after dinner and before showers. You're the one who worries that you are focusing too much on food and fitness and possibly creating a complex or eating disorder in the making. You're the one who has to figure out how to handle every school party and birthday celebration. And you're the one to answer while gritting your teeth, poorly hiding your disdain for the topic when her father asks for a report on the progress.
When her daddy wisely states that we need to screen her cell phone and ipod and review text messages on a regular basis, you're the one to act as deliverer of the news and enforcer of the very sensible new policy. You are the one who faces one more wall between you and your daughter as a result of this privacy infringement. You're the one who has to figure out how to work an ipod touch and access all of the content appropriately.
When your son's school calls, they call your number. You are the one to sit next to your son, and coax him through a project. You're the one who faces the scars on his forehead every day from his repeated self-inflicted beatings during the most recent meltdown episode. You're the one who reports to his father in a quick text "he's had a bad day" but you know that barely scratches the surface of it. You're the one who has had to live in the midst of it. You're the one who spends the night away, and then sees your kid's anxiety escalate in school the next day and wonders, is it my fault? Did my absence cause this?
I think it just plain sucks that I'm the only person.
But the truth is, that's just a big, fat lie.
I'm NEVER the only person.
My Maker showed me a tree recently so I could remember.
This tree reminded me that there's Someone Else who's fighting right along beside me.
Look at how that tree defies all odds. Its roots are tightly wrapped around its anchor, its rock.
You can hardly tell the difference between root and rock.
That tree is my hero.
I could hear my God whisper to me, "This is what it looks like to cling to me. When you feel weathered and worn, when the heights seem too risky, when life becomes impossible, dig in your roots and cling to me. Trust your Rock. I am your Someone Else."
When I'm old and gray, I want my soul to look like that tree.
My soul clings to you,
Your right hand upholds me.
Psalm 63:8
