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“They’re coming, they’re coming!” 

My son, Cole, and I ran along the Seine, looking for a hiding place. Pencil-thin trees lined the famous riverbank, but a car parked nearby offered us cover. We ducked behind it, hoping we hadn’t been seen. My quadriceps burned as I crouched uncomfortably low, pulled out my camera, and began recording. Unfazed by our unusual behavior, Parisians carried on around us, unaware we had traveled thousands of miles to witness this very moment.  

My daughter, Caitlyn, and her boyfriend, Bennett, came to a stop, about a stone’s throw away. They had traveled with friends so Bennett could run a marathon, but that was only part of the story. Caitlyn had no idea Cole and I were there, or that weeks of planning and more secrets than we could count were about to be revealed. 

Walking to dinner, with the Eiffel Tower perfectly framed in the background, they stopped to take a selfie. This was the moment Bennett had been waiting and planning for. He set up his camera’s timer, then dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him.  

I couldn’t hear them, but I wept as I watched her nervously mess with her hair as she tried to take it all in. A few minutes after her joyful, “Yes!” Cole and I came out of hiding, adding another layer to her surprise. Our family lived in anticipation of this event for weeks, and now it lives on in my memory as one of life’s rare and perfect moments.

But, as I crouched behind the car that day, I couldn’t help but reflect on how I got there, not to Paris, but to the point in motherhood where I witnessed my daughter get engaged. How did it happen so fast, and why did it seem so slow to get here? 

Seasons of Planting

It’s one of the many paradoxes of motherhood. Its seasons pass with or without our consent, and while it sometimes takes forever, it also goes by in a flash. There were many times when my children were little that I’d collapse at the end of the day from physical exhaustion. Their needs and my ability to meet them stretched me beyond my limits, and I knew that was by design.

Even now, I miss those little years, but I regret how impatient I was and how unrealistic my expectations were for myself and them. I struggled to love them sacrificially, especially when their needs impacted my comforts or agenda. This is another paradox of motherhood: we’ll step before an oncoming train to save them, but sometimes we’re unwilling to step outside our comfort zones to serve them.

But the Lord was faithful—raising me, as I was raising them. Over time, I learned my job wasn’t to produce perfect kids or be the perfect mom, but to abide and rest in him. I desperately wanted and needed to remain connected to the vine, to receive the life-giving nutrients of his Word, and to bear fruit (John 15:5).  

The fruit I longed for didn’t grow overnight. Parenting battles tested me as much as they did them. Would I faithfully endure teaching them to listen and obey so they’d hopefully listen and obey the Lord later on? Would they ever sleep through the night, pick up after themselves, or capitalize proper nouns?  

Seasons of suffering also shaped our lives, and those confronted me with more critical questions, like: Will they embrace the gospel they’ve grown up hearing? How will this trauma shape their lives? When they look back on their childhood, what will stick out? How will they remember me?

In this season of parenting, my kids don’t wake me up in the middle of the night, but often the Spirit does. Frequently, the concerns I carry for my kids during the day resurface in my mind at 3:00 a.m., prompting me to pray. I still ask the Lord to keep them and help them overcome challenges, but I also pray they’ll learn to abide. I ask God to help them see that nothing matters more than remaining connected to the vine. It’s there, and only there, their lives will be fruitful and their joy will be full (John 15:11).

Seasons of Reaping

For all the hard seasons of motherhood, planting, watering, and waiting, there’s also a time for reaping. My recent trip to Paris was a harvest in its own way—a gathering of fruit sown over years and years of prayer. 

It wasn’t that long ago that my midnight prayer sessions included fervent prayers for my daughter’s future husband. I watched her wrestle and wait in faith, trusting God’s timing, when it seemed like nothing was happening. Beautiful things take time to grow, both in seasons of motherhood and young adulthood.

So, this Mother’s Day, whether you’re a new mom or an older one, your season is probably also changing. Your hands may be full of sippy cups, college applications, or wedding budgets, but remember this—you are not alone, and your season matters to God. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” A few verses later, Solomon writes, “He has made all things beautiful in its time” (11).

Your season might not be beautiful now, but keep abiding and remaining. It’s God’s business to bring your sown-in prayers to harvest. Let your life be a quiet testimony to your children that even in weakness, staying connected to the vine bears fruit—and by God’s grace, and in his time, they’ll learn to cling to him too.  

Happy Mother’s Day, friends.

Cara  

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