You don’t own them

 “You don’t own them.”

You’re right.
I don’t.

I am responsible for them.

Every decision.
Every protection.
Every boundary.
Every night I don’t sleep so they can.

That responsibility isn’t casual to me.
It isn’t theoretical.
It isn’t something I can set down when it’s inconvenient.

God made me their mother.
Not to control them.
Not to cage them.
But to guard them while they are small.
To guide them while they are learning.
To stand between them and harm when they cannot yet stand for themselves.

I don’t own their lives.
But I am accountable for how safe they feel in them.

And I don’t take that lightly.