As I watch snow finally melt outside my kitchen window, I sigh at the sound of confident piano practice. My grow son plays in the far side of the house. The distance lends perspective. The mellow tones make me smile deep inside because I’ve come to understand love so differently than I once did. Those early years of marriage and motherhood taught me one version of love – the kind that runs on adrenaline and determination. But now, with silver in my hair and laugh lines I’ve earned honestly, I see love’s deeper currents.

Gone are the days of preventing hurt. What say you? Don’t you care? Oh, most certainly, we mother’s care, believers care, but life happens. Trials happen and there’s a heap of hurt that’s required to take the fruit from the experience. Jobs are lost, scholarships, boyfriends, dreams, and even faith. Or so it seems.  My son took the long road home, a painful one but necessary. I’m sure you can relate, no doubt.

How many times have you caught yourself attempting to fix something that must, by design, be left alone if those you love are to grow? I’ve been there too often but, when I’m able, I recall my mother’s wisdom. This high-school drop- out, mother of eight adopted the practice of not offering help and or advice. She’d remain silent unless specifically asked. Pointers were given sparingly, even then, with specifics couched in her personal experience. Having married at 16, in a different world that was pre-WWII, she saw too much. Good, bad, and pure ugliness often came by way of undue interference, even by those with the best of intentions. But just like in Fallen Angel, my very first published romantic suspense novel, we must cleave to the truth.

God draws straight with crooked lines.

That’s why love was suffering for Mom. Love meant letting life happen, most certainly by the time she reached child number 8. Yours truly. The pain of that learning exercise was mostly borne by her.

The job of patient bearing is mine now. Yours too, perhaps. God calls us to love throughout, however, amid what seems to be the darkest night, for that trail brings forth wisdom. Our Lord’s mother suffered in manifest silence. A deafening silence, outside suggesting, “Do whatever he tells you!” Silently suffering. Accepting. Waiting. Refusing to judge. And embracing unassailable confidence in He whose designs boggle our minds. That s wisdom. That is true love.

Has your son or daughter ruined their life? Chosen bad company? Married the wrong person? Have they accepted a position that will only tempt them toward that which kills? Have they filled your mother’s heart with gall? Are your grandchildren frittering away precious time that could be, in your view, better spent? If that’s not your story, I have no doubt that you’ve heard such tales and plenty of them. But true love isn’t about steering our children back to our chosen path – it’s about keeping our hearts and doors open, no matter what.

The Good Shepherd, after all, doesn’t drag the sheep home; He calls to them lovingly and waits. That call, if you will, is often the deafening sound of peaceful, abiding, loving silence in the face of utter hell. Jesus gives us our proverbial heads, watching as we strain the leash and often hurt ourselves so very badly. That’s when kids come home, though. Isn’t it? And those who have sinned more are all the more inclined to love deeply, to the core, once forgiven. Those hideous thorns that pierce us are channels for grace once the evil is removed. Not to be crass, but we’re so much tough, cheap steak that must be marinated if anyone hopes to eat it. I’m relentless with my jabbing, stabbing fork when I want the delicious teriyaki flavor to move through the meat I plan to serve my family. How about you?

Say goodbye to avoidance. Embrace the pain that tells us we’re alive and still have much to learn. Our Lord told Peter to get behind him when the latter suggested that Jesus avoid Jerusalem and subsequent crucifixion. Peter was thinking as a man, like we would if we’re honest, not as God. Those who love in this world think, act, and proceed as humans because that’s what we are. We seek to shelter ourselves and loved ones from pain. Pain, however, is the crucible of abiding wisdom. (And tasty steak!)

This doesn’t mean that we should seek pain. No. Experience has led me to believe that we are tasked with accepting all that comes from the hand of God with an open heart. We should be open to suffering, in whatever form, as it comes, as it’s necessary. The humbling pain of having to take our medication or accept certain limitations is real. So, take your meds as directed. Refrain from berating yourselves for the ongoing instinct to lend an unwanted or overly helpful hand. Be kind. Treat yourself in the exact same way you want your children to treat themselves—the way Christ treats us. Our children will be in our position soon enough; silver hair, curves shifting location on the body, and bones that communicate their various complaints with unnerving regularity.

Now, to cease and desist from causing ongoing discomfort, I’ll end this little essay. We know what we need to do. Carry that cross. Love it. Embrace it. And trod the holy road of true love which leads to the Father. There is no other course. Seasoned mothers, and fathers, must lead the way to show and not tell!