(Written a few weeks ago):
A toddler girl growing faster than I can keep up with. A senior in high school, who is in Sarasota, Florida with Dad, checking out an Art Institute he's interested in attending. And two more boys in between: the sophomore and the sixth grader.
Earlier today, I was (mentally) back in Knoxville, TN, on our oldest son's 1st day of 1st grade. Both his dad and I took him right to that classroom doorway, of course, on that exciting morning in August, so many years ago. After navigating through the crazy 1st-day-of school traffic that we didn't quite expect, then finally finding a parking place, we raced through the school just as the final bell was ringing, Dad holding our 1st grader's hand, me toting 2 and 1/2 year old brother on my hip.
The tall and slender and lovely Mrs. Smith met us at the door. I naively expected to be invited into the classroom for a few moments to see my big boy off, to see what his first day of school "looked like." But NO. Mrs. Smith was not at the door to welcome US, but only the 1st grader himself. She had actually only moved toward the door to CLOSE it, of all things, since the bell had just rung. With a smile on her face, she briskly takes OUR boy (MY BOY) by the hand, looks HIM in the eye and welcomes him sweetly, then instructs him to TELL MOM AND DAD GOODBYE. Then she looks at us herself, smiling mockingly, and says, "Bye, Mom and Dad!" OK, she was not really smiling mockingly.
I felt so jilted, as that door closed (so rudely) in my face.
I felt so jilted, as that door closed (so rudely) in my face.
The lump in my throat was so ginormous that I could barely swallow. I drove us home, after dropping Dad off at work. And I cried the whole way. I remember so vividly walking into that house, going straight to my bedroom and FLINGING myself on the bed, sobbing. Loudly. Brother saying, "What's wrong, Mommy?"
My baby. In 1st grade. How did it happen?
I also remember laying there sobbing and praying and then feeling like the Lord whispered to my heart, (in a very firm tone): "Are you entrusting your child to Mrs. Smith and everyone else at that school? Or are you entrusting him to ME?" It sounded so loud to me. It boomed in my spirit.
It sounds almost silly now, but I believe that was my first real glimse of what it means to "let go" of my children. And since that day? Boy oh boy, have I had to let go over and over and over and over. Am still learning how to do that. Will I always be learning how to do so? I think so, yes.
And now the first grader will be graduating from high school and going away for a time, in a few short months.
And I ask myself again, "How did it happen?" How do the days, the weeks, the months, the years fly by so quickly?
Will I be fit and ready to "let go" when I really must? Have all the moments along the way prepared me? All those times when the stark reality has hit me hard that he is not really mine, anyway? That none of our kids are?
I am reminded of that fact, when one of our teenagers (we have 2, almost 3) is out with friends, and I know he might not be making the same decisions as I would, if I was in his shoes. (or he might.) I must let go.
I am reminded, when their grades in school don't quite measure up to MY expectations. I must let go.
I am reminded, when it's late at night and all is quiet in the house, and the teenagers aren't yet inside the safety of our home. They aren't mine. I must let go.
I try to hold on in so many ways - often in the name of just "influencing" them or "guiding" them. It is hard. So hard, at times.
So I'll keep pressing forward, learning how to release them moment by moment, day by day. I'll keep getting frustrated, I am certain, that I seem to take two steps forward in the process, one step back. Like Ahna and potty-training.
Eventually, though, maybe I'll be a big girl, fully trained, with all the freedoms that come with knowing my boys - and my girl - are much better off in God's hands, and not my own.
Just like Ahna is much better off without the hindrance of those diapers.
And for the record: our soon-to-be high school graduate? He had a WONDERFUL year in first grade, and I ended up adoring his teacher, Mrs. Smith.
My baby. In 1st grade. How did it happen?
I also remember laying there sobbing and praying and then feeling like the Lord whispered to my heart, (in a very firm tone): "Are you entrusting your child to Mrs. Smith and everyone else at that school? Or are you entrusting him to ME?" It sounded so loud to me. It boomed in my spirit.
It sounds almost silly now, but I believe that was my first real glimse of what it means to "let go" of my children. And since that day? Boy oh boy, have I had to let go over and over and over and over. Am still learning how to do that. Will I always be learning how to do so? I think so, yes.
And now the first grader will be graduating from high school and going away for a time, in a few short months.
And I ask myself again, "How did it happen?" How do the days, the weeks, the months, the years fly by so quickly?
Will I be fit and ready to "let go" when I really must? Have all the moments along the way prepared me? All those times when the stark reality has hit me hard that he is not really mine, anyway? That none of our kids are?
I am reminded of that fact, when one of our teenagers (we have 2, almost 3) is out with friends, and I know he might not be making the same decisions as I would, if I was in his shoes. (or he might.) I must let go.
I am reminded, when their grades in school don't quite measure up to MY expectations. I must let go.
I am reminded, when it's late at night and all is quiet in the house, and the teenagers aren't yet inside the safety of our home. They aren't mine. I must let go.
I try to hold on in so many ways - often in the name of just "influencing" them or "guiding" them. It is hard. So hard, at times.
So I'll keep pressing forward, learning how to release them moment by moment, day by day. I'll keep getting frustrated, I am certain, that I seem to take two steps forward in the process, one step back. Like Ahna and potty-training.
Eventually, though, maybe I'll be a big girl, fully trained, with all the freedoms that come with knowing my boys - and my girl - are much better off in God's hands, and not my own.
Just like Ahna is much better off without the hindrance of those diapers.
And for the record: our soon-to-be high school graduate? He had a WONDERFUL year in first grade, and I ended up adoring his teacher, Mrs. Smith.
3 comments:
Beautifully, honestly expressed. Ditto, sister-friend, ditto.
Yes, so beautifully written...... you expressed the same feelings that any one of us as a Mom have had at one time or another in our lives. I seem to be struggling with the letting go as well. Nick is getting to that age where there are so many changes in his life. He is no longer a little boy.....even though that is the way I will always see him.
Gosh, I have really missed you and these beautiful posts...... You have such an eloquent way of writing......you truly have a gift!
Enjoy your Sunday!
xo,
Lisa
Your Seth, my Seth....so far apart in years, and yet, look at their mommies. On the same page. ;) Thanks for a beautiful post, Cindi.
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