They say, “Where does the time go?” Or, “Time goes fast!” I didn’t used to believe them, whoever ‘them’ are, but now I know them were right. Early days with your babies seem so long because sleep is so hard to come by, and their needs for basic survival are so great and tedious. All consuming at times- the diapers, the bottles, the projectile bodily fluids at unprojected moments, and crying whenever they demand even a millisecond of your attention. Suffocating at times, yet you are all in because well, they are your babies after all and you love them so fiercely.
Then they begin to talk and grow and walk and use a toilet independently. (If they are physically able, because as I know all to well the story changes dramatically when you have an atypical child with such diagnoses but that is for another post.) Anyhow, once they can spoon feed themselves and understand why toilet paper exists they seemingly exponentially become more and more independent of you in their needs. And it is the goal right? To raise self sufficient responsible people who will eventually enter the world with whatever knowledge and wisdom you attempted to bestow on them? And yet the less they need you and the taller they grow, your pride and heartache collide as you proudly watch them survive with you less, as you let go a little more.
It is the letting go that hurts so much, and I’ve struggled to articulate why, but I think I’m beginning to understand more… I think it has a lot to do with the reality of loss of control. And when they rely on you entirely for things like food and keeping them clean of poo and vomit, you seemingly are their sole caretaker, controlling how clean they are or aren’t, when and what they will eat, and where they go. You are the master of their little universe. But eventually they will learn how to do things for themselves and be allowed to be away from you for more than 3 seconds at a time. But the more they learn, and the more independent they become, the more they will pull away. And the more they pull away, the more you are forced to let go. Because the force of their growth eventually becomes uncontainable. It no longer is a matter of how tightly you try to hang on, but more so a matter of if you taught them how to reach for the right things, and walk in the right directions.
It is a journey of faith, and letting go is painful when it is something or someone you felt fully responsible for in the very beginning. And I think it is painful because releasing them means we have to ultimately give them up. And while many like ourselves had our babies dedicated back to the Lord when they were just that- I’m realizing it is more of a daily dedication. A daily surrender. Daily faith and trust and hope. And all of these things are really only possible in the name of Jesus.
Time is a funny thing. A mysterious thing. But a thing that can drive us to be all the more desperate for grace and starving for hope in Christ. And as my youngest begins his first year of high school later this year I feel all the feels of letting go and fighting not to look back and wish I had done so many things differently. But as the saying goes, “Don’t look back, you aren’t going that way.” Because if I’m looking back it means I’m not being fully present, fully soaking in all of the milliseconds as they pass one by one. Because once a moment passes, there is never any going back. So it is how we use these moments that is important, not wondering how we could have done better in the previous ones. Because when we are focused on trying to figure out how we could have done better, those moments are then forever lost in time and essentially wasted. Moments we could have banked more quality time or simply being present in thought.
We have today, and tomorrow, and however many days left until our children leave our home permanently from a physical standpoint. But we are mutually forever in each other’s hearts. Focusing on what time I have ‘left’ only causes me to spiral into worry and shame. But focusing on things that are here and now are the moments that will compound over time and that I can hope are the moments that will shape him in positive ways more than anything. Merely being present. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. And striving to love him well and point him to Jesus.
Here is to trying to focus on the present, the praying, the hoping, the having faith, and trusting that the same God we dedicated our baby to all those years ago is the same God walking with him and us today. And that in the easy moments and even in the most difficult of moments, he is as present as he has always been.
Feeling sad for his growth seems so counterintuitive, and yet here I am this evening fighting ugly crying in the parking lot of his first high school cross country practice. And while they felt like sad tears I was fighting, I think overtime I can begin to change their meaning. Perhaps I can shift my emotions, recognizing the man he is becoming and how far he has come, instead of feeling like I’ve missed so much along the way. Perhaps I can be excited with him when he talks about getting his driver’s permit instead of responding in dread and more tears of wishing he were not so old. And perhaps in shifting my response and focus, I can reflect the way Jesus sees him and loves him and exemplify what it means to let go and trust God with all of his days and minutes to come; with all of his milestones big and small. Ultimately I can give myself grace and keep going, and pray he learns to do the same.
And maybe, just maybe, one day he will be able to let go a little more easily of the things he will struggle with, because someone showed him that it is worth it. ❤️
*If you would like, please join me in praying over our son in this next phase of life:
That he would know that following Jesus really is worth it, that he would experience the deep love of Christ, and that ultimately his identity is in him.
🙏