When you need to launch your “Moses” on the Nile
Popping in this morning with a quick, kinda heavy word. This won’t be for all of you, but the ones who are needing it will know it’s for them. So here it is.
You heard me.
I’m talking to the girl who keeps on hovering over the nest. Who can’t ever lay herself down and rest in peace because of worries and concerns about her chicks.
Time to stop.
Here’s where I give you my own creds and explain why I have the right to speak to you on this. I have been that mom. I have been the girl who lived to put out fires for her kid(s). Who jumped in too often with her soup can to bail, bail, bail. Who wore herself past the point of exhaustion with worries and fears over their future.
I tried to manage it. To manage them. To guard and protect them from pain and from error. It was misery.
Know what? I can’t do that anymore. While I was out running this morning, I was thinking this stuff over, and a woman–another mother–came to mind. Moses’ mom.
I thought of her, how she whipped together that basket of bulrushes, padded it up real nice and soft, and then tucked her baby boy in. Kissed his head, breathed a prayer…
And nudged him off, out into the water of the Nile.
If she had clutched him to her breast and refused to let him go, he most likely would’ve been killed, just like all the other Hebrew boy babies. Just like them.
If she hadn’t released him in that little craft to float and bob outside her reach, he would never have made it to the palace. To his calling. Would never have arisen, years later, to lead his people.
Refusing to release him would’ve have been (stick with me here) a certain kind of abortion. For Moses’ grand calling and his place in history would never have come to fruition. It would’ve been aborted if his mother hadn’t released him in faith. Hashtag selah.
Think on that!
So here’s the deal. I rather think that Moses’ mother trusted in the God of the Nile, and that’s why she could let him go. And so can you.
If you, like me, trust the God of the Nile, then you can know that it’s safe to let go. To tuck them in. To nudge that small craft onto the water.
And then rest.
That’s all I’ve got for today. With warm thoughts, then, for you and your own “Moses,”