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Written By Guest Blogger Ruth C. Bright

adult children Parenting is a privilege and it’s work, hard work. I’m the mother and parent of 4 adult children. My children have taught me much about myself through the years. I use to live for them until I learned the hard way that it was a form of idolatry. It took something out of me when they were separated from me especially during some very critical stages in their lives. They are about 3-4 years about, with the exception of the first-born and the youngest, they are 10 years apart. My prayer for them has always been that they know God for themselves. Their individual journey has led them to that experience and some struggle where they are but they know how to pray and they recognize the difference between religion and relationship. I believe God will fulfill His promise concerning our children and our children’s children. I’ve never had a 35-year-old daughter before and although I’ve had a 28-year-old daughter she’s nothing like the 35-year-old. I’ve never had a 31-year-old son before and although he was 25 he’s nothing like my 25-year-old son. So I’m not only learning how to parent adult children, I’m  learning how to pray for them differently, support them differently and love them the way God loves me.  It a different place , one I find foreign especially after divorce, much healing needed, much prayer needed and much strength needed. Developing relationships is a process that changes and grows as you and your needs change and grow, not to mention I’ve never been 52 before, been separated and divorced for over 12 years. Loving life and embracing my time alone as I continue to pray for families and relationships to be restored, rebuilt, renewed, and revived through the ministry of reconciliation. Thank you for sharing and allowing me to share. I am ever so grateful to God for the 4 nations He assigned to my hands as I have committed them back to God since they were babies. God is thee ultimate Parent, Father , and Nurturer. I trust Him with their lives as well as mine. Don’t you?