The Quiver Was Never Meant to Be Permanent

I believe it was the, “Mom, it’s just a day on the calendar,” that gripped my heart with the revelation of something I’ve known for some time now — the days of our whole family being all together are pretty much over, save for the rare few and far-between moments I won’t be counting on.

It’s not a lack of willingness, it’s a lack of ability.

My oldest girl, the one who quipped that it was just a day, has chosen to be the one who "takes one for the team" — working every holiday so that co-workers with kids and spouses can be home.

It stinks that humanity cannot get a day off from emergency shenanigans... but here we are.

A New Kind of Holiday

Eden’s so-very-her personality statement came on the heels of my lament that this holiday season would be the first we weren’t under the same roof — and couldn’t even hope to be.

Never mind the fact that in just seven days, I’ll be missing my firstborn’s birthday for the first time in 24 years.

No communication. No, “Happy birthday, buddy!” text. Nothing.

Birthdays have been a big deal in the Weir house — long before we had kids. Mark and I excelled at celebrating one another because we both believed we were worth making a fuss over. 😊

Cue the Righteous Pity Party

All moms go through this season of life to some degree or another. And I do enjoy throwing myself a righteous pity party, imagining all the other families who get to demand that certain holidays be theirs…

…while three of my five have chosen to let society — and Uncle Sam — dictate their schedules.

But my pity parties don’t last long. Mostly because Jesus never RSVPs.

The Arrow Doesn’t Return

You see, there’s this thing we moms would be wise to understand:

These kids of ours must be launched — sans strings attached.

The arrow doesn’t return to the quiver. It was never meant to stay.

It was designed for release. For impact.To fulfill its own purpose.

Once our babes are released, their lives are no longer about being in the comfort of our home (quiver) — especially not on the timeline of our choosing.

Their lives become guided by the Lord (and/or the U.S. government), whose original idea was for us to raise them up and launch them to go be dangerous for the Kingdom of God.

And oftentimes, being dangerous for the Kingdom does not include making it home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukkah… or yes, even birthdays. That last one, though…

A Mother’s Quiet Example

My mom is a gem at this.

Years ago, I opted for homeless outreach instead of Thanksgiving dinner with the whole family. It had always seemed ridiculous to gorge on food and watch football while others were going hungry.

She never complained.

She didn’t complain when I moved her five grandkids to another state either.

She just did her job — she prayed. She blessed us in our going. And now that I’m the mom watching my kids go, I see her wisdom and sacrifice.

And of course… I follow suit.

The Invitation

And so I extend that invitation to you, momma:

Give your arrows freedom to move about the world, wherever the Spirit takes them —without complaints, without misgivings, without strings, and without the demand of coming home when you want them to.

Release them with trust, not fear. Bless their journey instead of clinging to their path.

These babes were never meant to stay in your quiver. They were fashioned to fly, to pierce darkness, and to carry light into places you may never want to see.

As They Fly, So Do You

As your precious ones soar, let it be a sacred time for you, too.

A time to tend to your own soul. To heal what’s been buried beneath the busyness of mothering.

Let the space their launching creates become the place where you rest and rediscover the fullness of who you are —who you were meant to be.

You, dear warrior-hearted momma, are not forgotten in their going.

You are the launch point. The one who aimed in love — and let go in faith.

Let that be your joy.