The Slow Letting Go
When I was a younger mother, I met a woman who had raised her children and who was in a completely different season of life. She and I connected immediately. We went out to lunch one day and we began to talk about life, marriage, raising children, and the various joys and sorrows that accompany the seasons of life. Since her children were already grown, while mine were still young children and toddlers, I asked her what it was like when they are grown and no longer living at home.
She had a wise and yet almost distant look in her eyes when I asked. I can only imagine the many fleeting moments that began to go through her mind. She said to me, “It is the slow letting go.” She explained to me that it is not that they are suddenly out of the home, it is that, throughout their life, we are slowly letting go and letting them become the people they were made to be.
As parents we are stewards. Caretakers. Mothers and fathers who are entrusted with the great gift of life. Our children are not our own, they belong to God. And He has chosen us specifically to accompany our children on the journey through life. When they are small, the care can seem so overwhelming with late night feedings, diaper blowouts, and worries about how to “get it right”. When they are bigger, the care is different. It is learning to listen and learning to be present; a skill that takes a lifetime to master and one I am still working on. It is learning the nuances of who they are and who they are called to be. It is walking alongside them as they begin to take bigger steps into the world, and they are figuring out for themselves who they are and who they are called to be. Whether big or small, there are still plenty of moments wondering, “Am I getting it right”, and then trying to remember to keep giving them back to God.
Currently my six children range from toddler to older teenagers, with one almost out of the home. Each stage has its own particular nuances. I have also learned that my sweet friend was right, it is the “slow letting go”. And sometimes I do it well, and sometimes I don’t. But that is the beauty of the journey.
Learning to hang on.
Learning to let go.
Learning to forgive.
Learning to say, “I’m sorry”.
Learning to have fun.
Learning to remember joy.
Learning how to grieve together.
Learning how to navigate suffering.
Learning to see it all from another person’s perspective.
Learning to love well.
It is remembering, in letting go, that we also hang on to the fact that we are always a father or a mother and that no matter how old our children are, we don’t grow out of that role; it simply changes, adapts, and adjusts depending on the season. We must learn when to let go, but we must remember to hang on in a way that is healthy for the particular season. We must learn how to be a place of rest for them where they always feel loved, supported, and encouraged regardless of their age and regardless of what they are going through.
All of it makes up the process of the slow letting go, until one day, they are no longer babies or toddlers or little children, they are grown. The reality is, it is the slow letting go of our own expectations and making room for God to work in our lives and our children’s lives so our children can become the people God made them to be and we can become the parents they need.
Do my children realize they can come to me when they have a need, whether they are younger or older?
Do my children feel confident in family life as a place of rest, restoration, hope, and joy?
Am I attentive to the big and little realities of my children’s lives so they feel secure in my love for them?
Do I take time to get to know my children? To listen? To visit? To see them and to allow them to be seen and to be loved?
Do I make an effort to listen when my children come to me with a question, a hardship, a suffering, a heartbreak?
Am I a place of rest for my children?