I never imagined that a simple, three-week trip to visit our daughter would become a one-way journey. My husband and I packed suitcases, excited to see our daughter’s new chapter, cheer her on, and get back home. Instead, God quietly rewrote the itinerary. If He had warned us, we might have dug in our heels —but His gentle surprise spared us the struggle and ushered us into deeper trust.
I will not lie. It wasn’t easy. We felt torn between two. We were glad to be with our daughter and husband, who graciously welcomed us in, as they adapted to their new location and season. And then, we were especially grateful to be with her while her husband was deployed. Even having been there, I don’t think we begin to know how incredibly difficult that was. But I believe our presence and our prayers helped at least a little.
Meanwhile, we still had two children at home in Mexico. And now, instead of them leaving our nest empty, it was mom and dad who had flown the coup. Phone calls over the next weeks and months were marked by the repeated question: When are you coming home? And the continuous answer: God says, Not yet.
Our sudden absence affected all, from the oldest to the youngest. It suddenly was not an option to have a heart to heart over a cup of coffee, invite us over for breakfast, have us drop in unexpectedly, leave the kids with Grammy for a while, have dad call any or every Saturday for a carne asada, or gather regularly for Sunday lunch and then everyone hang out at our house. I know it hit everyone, and a certain scattering happened in the next months, as God moved different ones around. But obviously it was especially hard on those still under our wings and dependent on my daily mothering. Boys take things into stride differently, you know, more matter of fact, like just go on and do what you must. One got engaged and married by the end of the year, and the youngest dug into his work.
But my “baby” girl- always held close- found herself thrust into what felt like survival mode, suddenly facing her final semesters of college in a very stressful career, without us anywhere nearby. With a thousand plus miles between us, I’m sure she cried on her pillow many nights after hanging up the phone as, yes, we did here too. Then she got engaged and began planning her wedding amidst studies, and my mama’s heart longed to spend the days with her. Not to mention her father. We begged God to release us to return, but every prayer ended with the same whisper: “I’ve got her.”
The Butterfly Lesson
One night, as tears blurred my Bible, the Lord reminded me of a story I had heard: A man noticed a butterfly struggling to push free of its cocoon. Wanting to help, he snipped the casing open. The butterfly slipped out easily—but its body stayed swollen, its wings shriveled. In “helping,” he robbed it of the pressure that forces life-giving fluid into the wings. Without the struggle, there is no flight.
That night God said, Don’t clip your daughter’s cocoon. Let Me build her wings. So I surrendered, trusting that the same One who formed her heart would strengthen her wings.
“Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it.” —Philippians 1:6 (NKJV)
Semester after semester, we encouraged from afar, and God carried her to a beautiful wedding and an excellent finish. He is ever faithful and true.
The distance has stretched my heart in ways I didn’t know were possible—equal parts joy and ache. Two weddings, the birth of two grandchildren, and two graduations have been the highlights of our visits in the last three years. I often remind myself that the same Shepherd who guided me through midnight feedings, last minute projects, and roller coaster years with six, abides today with each of my grown children.
“He will gently lead those who are with young.”
—Isaiah 40:11 (NKJV)
Psalm 127 calls children “arrows in the hand of a warrior.” Arrows are meant to fly; a bow that never bends never sends. When God led Luis and me to a new field of ministry, He bent the bow farther than planned, released, and said, Trust My aim. My quiver felt suddenly light, but the Lord whispered, This is what you raised them for.
So, I pray the values we taught and lived will keep their flight true. Values like:
- God first— 24/7 in time, talent, and treasure (Matthew 6:33).
- Love your neighbor as yourself – care about those around you (Mark 12:31).
- Feelings don’t reign; God’s Word does (Psalm 119:105).
- Circumstances don’t dictate peace—faith does (John 14:27).
- God is always there; count on Him (Hebrews 13:5-6).
- We love you unconditionally; do the same for your family (1 Corinthians 13:7).
- Real joy comes from doing what God created you to do (Ephesians 2:10).
How I Mother from Afar
Persistent prayer. I wrap each child (and grandchild) in Paul’s Colossians prayer. And I pray: Lord, hold them up and lead them on, even when I can’t be there to walk beside them.
9 For this reason we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray for you, and to ask that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding; 10 that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God; 11 strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy.
Colossians 1:9-11
Long-distance encouragement. A Scripture text, a voice-memo prayer, and many long distance, late night calls—each one says, I still see you, and God sees you more.
Practical advice– Google is great, but no match for dad’s advice or cooking like mom. So, thank God we are just a video call away for “Mom, how do I…?” questions- whether that’s a quick recipe, laundry tip, or walking my last bachelor through an hour and half of meal prep at 12:00 midnight my time. It’s all good.
Open arms, open door. When we visit there, our door is always open, and our home is usually full day in and day out. And now, we have just been blessed to get into a larger home here, so we are ready to have the whole family anytime. We are so blessed that half are now here in Texas, and we pray the Lord’s will brings the rest.
Whether your children are across the hall or across an ocean, you and I share the same assignment: bend the bow, release the arrow, trust the Archer.
Mothering beyond arm’s reach means trading my hands on for folded hands—prayer has become my hug, my cooking, my late-night rescue.
Prayer:
Father, thank You for the privilege of motherhood. Give us grace to let go without letting up, to pray without ceasing, and to trust that You complete every good work You began in our children. Amen.
Happy Mother’s Day—from one arrow-launcher to another.
Very well said!!