For the past 6 months, I’ve been pondering the concept of “letting go”, as it pertains to my oldest child and his approach toward adulthood.
It dawned on me that from the moment our kids are born, we begin the process of letting go, as the cord is cut and they are allowed to breathe and receive nourishment from the outside.
We “let go” as they learn to walk, releasing their hands, and allowing them to gently fall. Carson was 10 months old when he began to take his first steps. I laugh at the irony of us coaxing him and then weeks later, as he toddled into mischief, we had to barricade and lock everything up so he wouldn’t get into trouble.
I recall “letting go” of the bike as he wobbled on a two-wheeler for the first time. He actually did well, until he realized I wasn’t holding onto the seat anymore. Our poor neighbor’s mailbox paid the price as a crash pad. Of course, it didn’t take long and he was riding solo all over the neighborhood on his little green “racing bike” as he referred to it.
Feeling proud on the first day of kindergarten.
We “let him go” to kindergarten. I remember the day clearly, as he clung tightly to my hand while we walked into the playground area on the first day of school. Then, as soon as he saw some familiar faces, he let go and ran off to play with friends. (I probably would have held on longer.) I cried until my sinuses hurt, but I don’t think he did. That’s okay. I was thankful he felt comfortable at school.
Then came the times where I had to let my boy go when he didn’t want to. Carson was in early elementary school when he had 5 surgeries due to chronic infections, hearing loss and mastoid disease- an infection that went all the way to his skull. In fact, a portion of bone was removed in order to clear the infected areas behind his ear. I felt conflicted because medically, it was necessary. But the pain and fear I saw in his eyes tugged at my heart. After about the 3rd surgery, Carson knew what was coming and had decided, on the operating table, just before anesthesia was administered that he wasn’t going through with it. I had to assist in holding him down as medication was given to make him fall asleep. Needless to say, it was a traumatic experience, and once his body went limp in my arms, I had to walk away from my son and let the medical team take over. I had to let him go.
In recovery after a difficult surgery.
A shocking diagnosis of cystic fibrosis at the age of 11 caused my boy to grow up quickly. The day we received this news was awful, I remember being in the doctor’s office, and watching a look of horror come over him. He turned to me and then back to the doctor as realization hit. “Wait, what? Mom, tell me what’s going on. Is this for real?” He literally began backing up in his chair trying to escape. More than anything I wanted to say, “Honey, grab your things. We’re leaving because this is too hard.” Reluctantly, we stayed. Allowing my boy to hear the truth about his diagnosis and learn a new normal was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do as a parent. But deep down, I know these are the types of experiences that can grow strong character and a perspective that most people won’t have: Life. Is. Precious. He learned that at 11 years old. I am so proud of him.
Letting our kids make mistakes and take responsibility for their actions is another tricky part of letting go- at least for me. Maybe I want to save face, whether it’s theirs or mine. Keeping them from harm and consequences sounds well intended, but I can’t always come to their rescue after they’ve made a poor decision. Kids need to learn that there are repercussions to their choices, whether good or bad. “Son, I love you. And you’re going to talk to the store manager about the fishing lure you put into your pocket and see what he wants to do about it...” Meanwhile I’m praying there is leniency against my 9-year-old boy!
Carson (in green) helping to dig a ditch for some villagers in the Dominican Republic.
I have let Carson go to summer camp, fish in the boundary waters for a week, backpack through the Big Horn mountains and even go on a mission trip with his youth group. And while that may not sound so brave, for a kid with CF, who must bring along medical equipment and be expected to do daily airway clearance therapy and take medications for various health concerns, it took courage. Many in my CF support circle questioned if sending my son to a remote village in the Dominican Republic for 10 days was wise. But I wanted him to have the opportunity to serve and experience other cultures, and realize that the world didn’t revolve around him. We both knew life was unpredictable. I let him go. He returned forever changed, humbled, and a lot more independent too.
Carson, class of 2020
Another facet of “letting go” as a parent can be the hopes and dreams we have for our kids. We need to ask ourselves, “Are my plans and dreams for my child what they want?” It wasn’t until my boy was in middle school that I began to realize my hopes for his future (such as attending college), may be different than what he wanted. It took years for me to finally stop pushing my own agenda and let him pursue his. That wasn’t easy! But it was necessary in order for him to live out his best life. His talents clearly match HIS own goals and dreams. I believe this will help him be more successful in the future.
Obviously, letting go of our kids is a process that has ups and downs. Watching our babies take their first steps is much more rewarding than letting them handle pain or failure. But all of those experiences have the capability to produce perseverance and strength.
This week my boy is leaving home; moving out. He graduated high school, has a summer job and his sights on becoming a fishing guide this fall. I keep having flashbacks of holding his hand, walking him into his first day of kindergarten. Now, his hands are much larger and stronger than mine. He is a young man. I feel at peace about letting him go. But it’s definitely emotional. Somehow, I am comforted by the possibility that the best years of our relationship are yet to come.
Proverbs 22:6 (ESV) Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.