“I wanna be where my feet are.” This is a refrain from a song called “Centering Prayer” on the album “Sanctuary Songs,” and it has been running through my head constantly this week. I find the lyrics to be a beautiful juxtaposition between what I want and what I need to want (but sometimes struggle to experience).
Over spring break, we paid the college deposit for our oldest son Brennan, and as soon as that payment was submitted, we were bombarded with emails: Set up college email address. Sign up for orientation. Register for the campus emergency notification system. Find a roommate. And that was all on top of the current senior year to-do list: Submit a baby picture. Rent a prom tux. Turn in another scholarship application. Mark the calendar for cap and gown pickup. It was a lot to get done, and it was enough to fill our whole spring break — our last regular spring break as a family of five.
I wanna be where my feet are.
A week and a half ago Jim and I got to spend some time with our church’s young adult ministry group, talking to them about stewardship and the wise use of time, talent, and treasure. Then just last night I was privileged to lead another baby dedication class, reminding young parents of how fleeting the years are, and showing them a jar of 937 pennies — one for each week of their child’s life from birth to age 18. For each family, along with the $9.37 in pennies, I give a second, empty jar as a place for parents to move their weekly pennies over to and prayerfully consider how they are investing in their child and the Kingdom of God.
This past Saturday, Brennan turned 18. We don’t have a literal penny jar for him, but we moved his last, metaphorical penny out of the jar this week, and we now have a full jar of invested pennies. And as much as I have spent time thinking about the moments we may have invested or squandered as parents, I now wonder about what Brennan will do with his own pennies. My job is to encourage and pray for him as he figures out how to spend his own time, talent, and treasure. My role has changed and is changing. It is confusing and challenging, beautiful and hard.
I wanna be where my feet are.
I wanna breathe the life around me
I wanna listen as my heart beats, right on time
I wanna be where my feet are.
For the past few months, the Lord has put Isaiah 43:18–19 in my path repeatedly: “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” He has been preparing my heart to stand right here, at a crossroads, and He will be with me when it is time to embrace our new road. As I look down at my feet in this awkward and challenging spot, I am admittedly uncomfortable. I struggle with the in-betweenness of it all and would prefer to either move along or turn back, kissing my baby’s cheeks and holding him in my lap one last time. I know that standing here brings some level of pain and heartache, potential fear, and even some excitement. But right here is where He holds me. It is where He would have me to be. In the tension of it all, there is joy and life with Him. His grace is enough. His presence is enough. He is enough.
I wanna be where my feet are.
“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” — Psalm 16:11