When it comes to my kids, I hate this phrase.  What do you mean the process of letting go?!  These are children that I have carried in my womb for 9 months and I wanted to surround them with a mountain of bubble wrap to protect them from the outside world since they emerged to grace this earth with their presence.  To protect them from a fall or a broken heart is my job as their mom.  I am the hero that will save them!  

But the truth is, although I physically gave birth to each one of my children, they were never mine to begin with.  My husband and I are entrusted by God to help raise them. The truth is, that they are His.  The truth is, that I am not in control and cannot protect them from everything. Ironically, if I try to protect them from too much and not allow them to make mistakes in the safety of my home, then I might be setting them up for bigger falls when they leave the nest.  

So, I begin my journey to let go when they are young.  This is not an easy feat because I am a bit of a control freak by nature, the type of person who actually thinks that they have some control.  I have to fight this part of my personality and align with God’s intention in my parenting.  Yes, I am supposed to watch out for my children, give them wisdom as they grow and discipline when the need arises, but I am also supposed to let them make mistakes, let them fall and then pick them up.  

By nature, I am not what you would call “a nostalgic personality”.  I
don’t cry easily; even at funerals my eyes are dry and birthdays don’t
typically affect me in an emotional way.
But on the morning of my oldest son’s 18th birthday, I felt an immediate
panic and sadness that caught me off guard. I was surprised at the
intensity of emotion that came flooding over me. Had I prepared him
enough for life outside our home? Would he make good decisions? Would he be safe? Could he be successful in life due to the education I had given him?

I sat in my bed and my thoughts left me face to face with all of my
past mistakes; all the memories of each time I had failed as a mom. I
had to confront the reflection of my own inadequacy, and the decisions
I had made as a homeschool parent.
As I sat there, all I wanted was to go back and start over at the
beginning. If I had a time machine, I could go back and do it better.

I would raise my voice less.

I would hug that baby more often.

I would have lived “in the moment” with him- instead of worrying about
his future.

If I could go back, I would let go more.

Parents on the other side with grown children and more experience than me have related phrases such as “time flies” and “cherish the time that you have with your kids.”  I always had a bit of a dismissive attitude when I would hear them say this.  My unbelief was rooted in the amount of young babies I had at the time and the amount of diapers I was changing.  In my mind, in those moments of my life, this was not a quick process, but a Mt. Everest situation where I could not see the end in sight.  This definitely is not going to feel quick!  But you know what?  They were right.  Just a couple of months ago my oldest turned 18 and time did fly. I want to go back.  I can’t.  I’m learning to let go.