The Helicopter

I have been a mother for six years in total. On the day I took my first pregnancy test, and saw the word PREGNANT appear on the oval screen before me, I knew that from that point forward, I was a changed person. No longer were my thoughts, actions and motives purely my own. I now belonged to someone else. Every movement I made, every decision from that point forward, was calculated with the life inside in mind, wanting to be the best possible mother I could be to the baby, a boy we discovered at our 20 week ultrasound, whose life I had created. I read book upon book relating to my ever changing body, the experience of labor and delivery, and what to anticipate in the months following my child’s arrival, yet no where within the pages of those texts was I ever informed of how I would transform in to what I am today.

The helicopter.

We often hear the term “helicopter” in a negative context, referring to a style of parenting in which the mother or father is constantly overhead, never allowing the child to move freely about. But that particular context is not how I view myself. With the birth of my first child, and my second son’s arrival four years later, I became the advocate for each child, the constant presence to which they could look for comfort, guidance, and to touch them valuable pieces of information which they can take in to their later lives, and which I hope they will pass on to their future children. The realization struck me at it’s most recent point this morning, when, after eating breakfast, I found myself following my youngest son with a warm washcloth to clear the remains from his face, hands and clothing. You see, I do this quite often throughout the day, without realizing I am doing so. It has become such a second nature task to me that I was surprised when I noticed in myself…”I’m hovering.”

Like our Creator. He hovers above us, always watching. He is our true and faithful parent, ensuring each mess we make, no matter how small or great, he will be there to repair.  When I woke up this morning, I was feeling a bit exhausted. Physically. Mentally. My body was tired, and my soul weary. It has been a difficult year, with more pain than I had ever endured, and I had been questioning my purpose. Last night, before going to sleep, my husband and I were having a discussion..I remember telling him that I felt as though, while I knew I had a purpose, I wasn’t certain what it was, and that I was feeling a bit lost. I finally laid my head to rest, and slept peacefully until this morning, when the day began again. We awoke, and began the normal routine of our day. Morning cartoons and breakfast, walking our dogs..but on this morning, before removing my body from the warm confines of my bed, enveloped in a cocoon that shielded me from the bitter chill of the outside world, I talked to God. It was my first talk with Him in months. I admitted that I wasn’t sure what path I was supposed to be on, and that I needed his guidance to lead me to the next stage of my life, because I wasn’t certain how I could continue to do so alone.  And in that moment, I was inspired to reach out to one of my favorite bloggers, whose journey I have followed for quite some time, asking her for advice on how to be successful and what pointers she may have for me. It was certainly not something typical for me..on any other day I would hesitate before doing such a thing, if I were to even follow through with it at all. Yet, on this particular morning, I did so. To my surprise, she responded. It was as if He knew that at that particular moment, she was what I needed. She was helping me on my path to my true journey, the path that is still unfolding before me. He was my helicopter in those moments, following behind me, watching over me.

Teaching me his valuable lessons. thekids

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