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The dark sky and heavy rain matched my mood and getting Chick-fil-a didn’t even help. I had gotten sleep in about two separate chunks of two hours each the night before, (due to a 3:45 am call time dropping my kid off at the airport) so exhaustion was also working against me. I had been in this place before, my baby boy miles away from me. It was hard then, and that time he was just up in the mountains, an hour or so away. This time he was more than 1500 miles away on the other side of the country. AND, he had turned off his phone. My “Find My Friends” app had gone dark about two hours ago, despite guiltily hitting the reload icon repeatedly. According to technology, he couldn’t be located. Now. Before you judge me for my cyberstalking, let me defend myself, I …well, um…… ok, I have no excuse. I am the worst. I was indeed stalking my son’s whereabouts, and really, being cut off was for the best. I wanted control and to know he was ok and doing well on his 8th grade trip to Washington DC.
I knew this day was coming. He had signed up for the trip a year earlier and, as always, the days flew by and all of a sudden, I watched him walk off across the airport, not with me, but with a bunch of other teenagers. The stretching of my heartstrings had begun years before, but today, my Mama’s Heart had to stretch more than ever before. I imagine my kids sometimes as two parts of my heart, still kind of attached, growing up and walking around outside of my body. If this sounds like it hurts, it does sometimes. But just as often, it feels delightful and exhilarating, as little parts of myself go around doing awesome things for themselves and for others. They started out as completely dependent on me for their entire survival. I was in control (at least it felt like it) of everything about them. Now, more and more frequently, it’s clear they don’t really need my help at all. This is such a double edged sword of pain and pride. So, knowing this is graduation season for pre-schoolers to High School seniors, and there are mamas and daddies all around me and beyond having to let go of their little ones in one way or another, here are my thoughts about letting go of your kids.
1. Grieve those tiny kids and what was
I have a picture sitting right beside my left hand as I type this. My two littles are sitting at the end of a dock on Grand Lake, chubby faces smooshed together, smiling with baby teeth at the camera. I put it there when I sat down at the computer this morning as a reminder of how fast time was going. That’s maybe a little bit excessive and unnecessarily heart wrenching, but I think that grieving the seasons that have ended is good and healthy. Remembering what was and what has ended is a way for me to process the transition. I find it easier to close that door and be ready for the next one that is opening when I have had time to grieve what has ended. Not only that, but this grieving and saying goodbye to what was helps me open the door to to the next chapter that is beginning with joy and excitement. Each new chapter that begins with my kids is exciting, and watching them grow into who they have been created to be is a gift. Once I have let the old season go, I am completely free to embrace the new season openly and joyfully.
2. Be present and mindful
This one is so hard. Being present in this culture is nigh impossible, it seems. Something is always beckoning and diverting my attention away from what is happening right in front of me. Today, I’m obsessing over my 8th grader being gone, while missing the opportunity of a quieter house to be more productive and prepare for the insanity of the next season and the demands to come. I’m missing the time alone with my girl, who so very soon will join him in the teenage level of attitudes, activities, and independence. Right now, she still relishes my attention and help, and I need to be completely present for that gift.
3. Accept we really never had much control in the first place and trust God for all the what if’s
So. Many. What. If’s. There are so many things outside of our control these days. I think it’s easy to have a kind of skewed picture for a couple years as our babies grow: they really do depend on us for everything, so it feels like we control it all. But, recently, I’ve been reminded that is not the case, whatever the age of my kids. When the news media brings us face to face with so many unacceptable horrors of our current world and reality, our ability to say we have control over our lives is shaken. How some of the things that happen in this world happen is inexplicable, and yet, maybe that’s the biggest truth of all: we may never be able to understand. And we certainly won’t ever really have control. Only God knows how all of the pieces of this life fit together, all the reasons for the unexplained, all the answers to all the whys. Trusting that God has everything under control is beyond difficult, but I’m choosing to believe just that. Because, when my 8th grader returns at the end of this week, I’m told he will seem more like a High School Freshman than a middle schooler. (I just gagged a little bit at that.) And upon his return, we have just about four weeks until he leaves again. This time to another country, maybe in some ways a bit less safe than here, to serve and help and grow even more into the young man he was created to become. And once more, my Mama’s Heart will have to stretch even more than before, as I watch him walk off across the airport without me into a situation that’s not guaranteed to be safe and over which I have no control. But I will be praying and trusting that God has it all under control, so I can let go and know that I don’t have to fight for the control that really, in the end, I don’t even want.
