Mile 885.2/1000.
What is good, my friends?
Out on my 1000 Mile Walk with God today on a beautiful morning. And I’ve been thinking about an analogy that has helped me a lot lately, especially as a parent.
My lovely wife Rochelle and I have six kids, ranging from 27 down to 17. And one thing we’ve learned is that parenting older kids is different. Just different. When they’re little, they need you for almost everything: making food, tying shoes, buckling them into car seats, the bedtime routine, helping with homework, and finding the thing that is somehow directly in front of them but still invisible.
But then they get older. They become teenagers and adults, and suddenly they’re making bigger decisions, navigating faith, work, relationships, life. Their own journey. And as a parent, you sometimes find yourself thinking, “Okay… what exactly is my role now?”
Parenting adult kids seems to unlock new fears on the daily. Not because they’re bad or because you don’t trust them, but because you love them so much, and you can’t just step in and fix everything the way you maybe could when they were little. I’ve found myself praying plenty of times, “Heavenly Father, help me with this child.” And that is a good prayer. But this analogy has helped me shift it a little.
Picture an operating room. There is a surgeon. A surgical assistant. And a patient on the table. It is very important to understand who is who. God is the surgeon. I am the assistant. The child I’m worried about is the patient.
And I think sometimes my prayer needs to change from “God, help me with this child” to “God, how can I help You with this child?”
Because that beautiful child was His long before they were mine. He knows them better than I do. He loves them more perfectly than I do. He knows what they need, and He knows where their story is going. And honestly, I am not even qualified to grab the scalpel. That usually does not end well in any metaphor.
So my job is to stay close to the Surgeon: to watch, listen, and pay attention. And when He says, “Hand Me this,” “Say this,” “Don’t say that,” “Reach out,” “Give them space,” “Just listen,” “Be still,” or “Love them right here,” I try my best to follow His lead. At least when I remember, right?
Here’s another part of the analogy that has helped me: if you’re the assistant, you probably shouldn’t spend the whole surgery just staring anxiously at the patient. You keep your eyes on the surgeon, because you’re there to assist Him. And I think that matters. Sometimes we can become so focused on someone else’s problem, pain, choices, questions, or struggles (especially when it’s one of our kids) that we forget to look to God. We stare at the worries, fears, and worst-case scenarios, while God may be gently inviting us to look back at Him.
So if there is a child, grandchild, spouse, friend, or loved one you’re worried about today, maybe try adjusting the prayer a little. Ask: Heavenly Father, what is my role here? How can I help them feel Your love? What do You need me to do next? What should I say? What should I stop saying? Where do I need to trust You more?
And then keep your eyes on the Surgeon. Because He is a lot better at this than we are.