Until recently I was imperiled with Fomo disease. As genes would have it, our youngest has also contracted the disease as well as our not-so-friendly dog Kramer (non-genetic of course).
If you have never read up on this non-life threatening aliment, let me fill you in on the most obvious symptoms. Fomo is an acronym for “fear of missing out.” Knowing that there were conversations around me for which I couldn’t engage and situations within a 3-mile radius to which I was not privy, was debilitating. I could break out in hives just thinking about it.
Thankfully after many conversations with God and some counsel from my wise husband, I was able to overcome the disease. I can now let conversations around me continue without my interrupting and asking a packing list of questions, and sleep in spite of Face Book, Twitter, and Instagram entries clicking around the world wide web waiting to burst from my computer. Growing out of that stage in my life has been great.
We all go through stages of maturity, although some faster than others. As parents we have the ability to make ourselves sick by worrying about the things that could go wrong in the tiny little lives of our children. Will they have friends? Will they learn to do math? Do they fit in with the other kids? Will others appreciate their talent for flipping their eyelids inside out? What if they hate sports? What if no one plays with them? What if the other kids think their lunch is gross? When will they be motivated, passionate about something, sold out for Jesus, compassionate, kind to their siblings, less argumentative?
The answer is simple, only God knows, but, maturity happens, people change, God works miracles, changes hearts, softens behaviors, directs, guides, speaks wisdom, encourages, protects, nudges, and a whole host of other great things. Pray for them, counsel, lead by example, trust God, surrender, and relax. Part of being a great parent means helping our kids to react correctly, let go of fears, mature, conform, adjust, overcome failure, and celebrate successes.
Unfortunately I have recently discovered another disease that I have. It’s called BNS, which is an acronym for “biting nail syndrome.” I’m sure there is a cure out there somewhere, but for now I will seek council from my husband, who never bites his nails.