A good portion of my parenting hours, especially during the early toddler years when children are blessed with increased mobility and cursed with increased recklessness, have been devoted to preventing disaster: keeping kids from diving headfirst off the back of the couch into the floor, stopping the shoving of utensils into strange orifices, advising against the sled ride down the stairs in the laundry basket.
Just the basic keep-them-alive drill.
Utterly exhausting, but pretty straightforward.
Of course, the types of challenges, dangers, and hurts they'll encounter will change as they grow. They'll have fewer scraped knees, but more bruised feelings. They'll encounter battles that they have to fight on their own.
I could constantly pray for their protection, asking for hardships to pass over them, but more and more, I find myself praying that my children will feel God's presence and remember to call on Him when they're in the midst of those hardships.
I can't forget that the same God who watches over me, watches over them.
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