I’ll admit, as the mother of a boy fascinated with machines, I’ve often marvelled at how such small machines can achieve bigger feats than they seem capable of.
One such vessel is the tug boat. I mean, the tug boat is a small vessel that basically tows ocean liners which are too big to manoeuvre safely through crowded harbours, either on their way out to the open sea or as they return to their dock.
And for some reason I saw a correlation between the role of the tugboat and the role of parents.
I came to see my role, and that of my husband, as being something of a tug boat. Together we are twin tugboats towing our children through the formative years of their lives, the crowded harbour, and out to the open sea where they will embark on their own adult lives and make their own faith decisions.
Bear with me.
Basically, I’m helping to guide my children (ocean liners) through the port and out to sea where I leave them to continue on their voyage safe in the knowledge that I have guided them to the best of my ability. The idea of a tug boat, though a little off centre, is a good one because the tug boat is not particularly glamorous and it is, really, a most humble vessel.
My role as mother and first educator of my children is an often thankless task and, let’s be honest, it’s far from glamorous. And yet the job is vitally important. Without that small tugboat, capable of pulling along vessels quadruple it’s size, to safely navigate and steer the ocean liner through a crowded harbour, accidents would occur. Small crafts would be mowed down under the bulk and cumbersome steering of the enormous ships.
Thankfully there is also a coast guard overseeing the whole operation!
Perhaps there will be a few minor scrapes along the way, and a few close calls, but I hope that at the moment when my children leave my guidance, disconnect my tow rope and embark on their voyage on their own, that they are formed well and their journey to the next life is successful.
I can’t help but feel that if they fell away from the practice of the faith that I would blame myself for that. That I would feel guilty that I had failed them in some way to form a conscience and moral compass that was sound.
So, long after my little ocean liners leave me behind I will pray for them because, as we are all aware, every voyage is not without it’s hiccoughs. I will pray often and without ceasing.
And perhaps one day, in the distant future, I will greet them in the harbour of Heaven, and they will latch onto me once again as I safely steer them to the dock, where God will be waiting to welcome them home.
Originally posted 2015-09-10 12:00:27.