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The Role of a Mom: Hold the Rope


When I was young I lived with the horses.  O.k. not literally, but very close.  

I loved to work them on a long rope long before I worried about putting on a saddle.  My purpose was building rapport and helping them choose to work with me and trust  me.

Watching a young horse bask in its freedom as it ran to the end of the rope and run in circles thinking that it was completely in charge.  As they ran, I could see them thinking.  Hmmm, now what?  "Go ahead," I would say, "just keep running."

Do I just want to run in circles?  Soon they were looking toward me for some kind of direction.  It would not be long until they turn in to me, ready to work together.

When saddling, bridling or any kind of training, if the horse would act as if they wanted to go it on their own, I would let them out to the end of the rope.  Usually, one go brought them back quickly.

Who knew that this activity would be the picture that brought me to God and helped me parent?  Pretty sure God did.  

My middle son was born with this incredible mixture of quiet and fierce determination.   This son of mine turns 20 in a week and has not changed very much!  He is still strong, fiercely determined, dedicated and thoughtful.

While very independent, relationships have always been important to him.  As a little guy he was our cuddler and dreamer.  So he doesn't cuddle (me) anymore, he is still my dreamer.

He was angry when his big brother left him to go to school and would scoul fiercely.  Enough to keep anyone from approaching him in our little school on that first day.

He was furious when strangers would to talk to his baby brother in the grocery store.  The picture of him stepping up on the back of the shopping cart standing over my youngest with a look that made even the oldest of ladies pause, still makes me laugh.  "Can I see your baby?" a wise woman asked him.  "NO," he glared.

This son of mine is strong willed and tenacious.   Many many times during his middle school years, I pictured letting him run to the end of the rope.  Bracing myself, I held the other end tightly and let him run.  

"Nevertheless, ......" I would say constantly to him and his brothers.    

They would be so persistent that I had to pick a "broken record" phrase and push them out until they were willing to work with me.

As they grew my Mom told me a story she heard on Dr. Dobson, which helped her with her strong willed daughters.  "Raising children is like holding a rope and slowing giving them more room without letting go of the end."

Sunday, at church, as he shook the old men's hands and gave the side hug to the ladies...I smiled.  When he waited for me and helped me carry in food and Sunday school stuff...I smiled.
When he came back and told me that he loved me before heading off to his world of college...I cried.

I'm still holding the end of the rope but he, is free.
  
     
 

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