A Season of Sacrifice

Long ago, when my kids were little, I thought I learned about sacrificial love. I mean I gave up so much during those years—time, money, energy, dreams. Somehow I imagined that would be the pinnacle of the giving up of myself.

But now I see it was only the beginning.

We registered our second child for college this weekend. In fact, it was the second weekend in a row we’d driven to another state to do college stuff with our kids. Two weekends of time and money and energy spent. With much more to spend waiting on the horizon. And just like when my husband started his own business, I see we are about to make a lifestyle change. A season of sacrifice. And it’s much bigger than anything I imagined when my kids were small.

The thing is, all those years ago I struggled with resentment. I felt I didn’t understand before I jumped in what would be expected. I felt imposed upon, less of a sacrifice, more of a punishment. This time it’s different. This time, while sacrifice is uncomfortable, as it always will be, I see meaning in it. I see growth coming for myself, my husband, my kids. And I’m even finding joy. For sacrifice changes us all—the one giving and the one receiving.

I’ve learned enough to realize even this won’t be the last moment of sacrifice in my life. Or even the probably the most painful. It’s simply another facet of the journey up the mountain of faith.

What sacrificial act has meant the most in your life? Was it something sacrificed by you or for you?

The Green-Eyed Monster

I find myself envying my daughter lately. I’ve never really done that. Never lived vicariously through her. But as I recently lived day after day after day with the unexpected jumping in and scrambling my life as I prefer it to be, I found myself green with jealousy.

After all, she’s a college student. With no one to worry about but herself. No real responsibilities except getting to class on time and making the grades to keep her scholarships. No need to drop everything should someone else need something. No one depending on her to make things run smoothly. No time and energy and money spent when an issue like air-conditioning arises. (Don’t you wish your house had a permanent maintenance man?) No need to figure out what’s for dinner, even though that does mean eating cafeteria food. No one desiring her to fit her life and schedule around theirs.

See what I mean? I keep thinking that being an empty nester will be nearly the same thing, but my friends assure me that isn’t so. And so I sigh and watch her carefree life, knowing she doesn’t appreciate the lack of people and things all vying for her attention. And yet—it drives me to pray. Not only my grumbling heart, but also for her. For there will come a day when she walks in my shoes, sacrificing her wants, her wishes, for the family God will bless her with.

And I pray she will do it far more graciously than I.