My middle son is a senior this year...was. His graduation ceremony was yesterday morning, but he chose not to participate. He did graduate, but no cap and gown, no family in town, no parties, no dining out. No plans to attend college. Instead, he's moving out.

I spent the entire day crying my eyes out. I mentioned the reasons for his rebellion in an earlier blog on codependency. (I begin speaking of him about half-way down the page.) As a grieving mother, I don't have the energy to repeat the story.

In the midst of my tears, I found myself wondering if I had only done this or that differently maybe he would be making better choices. But that type of thinking is a bottomless pit of guilt and condemnation. Then I tried some good old fashioned anger toward God Himself. When my son was still taking Pre-AP courses, I was in the middle of therapy for multiple years of sexual abuse, his older brother had a temper that required constant attention, his little brother was still just a little guy--requiring little guy attention, and my husband, was still relapsing on occasion.

It was too much on one mother's plate. In all fairness, I can see where at times, he must have felt invisable before us all. Ouch. And I can't go back and change anything. To change all of that, God would have to change my past. And then I remembered that in spite of my past, my husband's past, and the mistakes we've made as parents, we have an amazing testimony of God's unfailing love and of His ability to take a dark story and transform it into a God story.

And in that moment of truth, the love of God overcame my fear and regret and filled me with hope. My son's story is being written. True, if I were authoring it, he would be going to college this fall. But God in His graciousness, hovers over my son and his free will to make poor choices, ever ready to redeem it all the moment He's called upon by the choice-maker.

Meanwhile, to all the grieving mothers out there who want so much more for their children than how their lives appear, I am right there with you. Praying, hoping, believing. Praying, hoping, believing, and crying when I need to.

The truth is, nothing I did right for my son adds any value to who I am in Christ, and nothing I did wrong can take away from it--leaving no room for self righteosness or condemnation. That is the grace of God. And each day I humbly ask for my portion.

My Bible remains open to Isaiah 65. Verse 23 is my anchor Scripture:

"They shall not labor in vain, Nor bring forth children for trouble; For they shall be descendants of the blessed of the Lord, And their offspring with them.

Keep the faith ladies. We're in this together.