Faithful Paradox

We leave today to drop our middle-born son off at college. Although we have launched kids before him, there is a tender grief that arrives with each exit; a sort of reckoning that comes with the end of an era.

When I first began having children, I did not consider the goal of mothering was raising them to leave; rearing independent adults was always the plan. Yet as I am confronted with this reality once again, I feel the sadness that comes with experiencing the pain of the launch.

When my boys were little, I didn’t consider that the goal was independence. In the early years of motherhood, I could not fathom a time when I was not needed every moment of every day. At that point, I still had almost two decades in front of me to nurture the children God entrusted to my care; it seemed there was no rush in considering the reality of their independence. Yet as the saying goes, the days are long but the years are short, and here we are again, launching another child that grew from toddler to adult in a blink.

What I understand now as I launch another son is that even as I begin to anticipate his departure, there is a difference between knowing what grief will come and experiencing it first hand. There is a difference knowing about the silence that is sure to come versus walking into a room void of my son’s presence. There is a difference in understanding the season of parenting has shifted, yet experiencing the reality of allowing adult children to navigate life with less oversight or input. With each of these realities comes very real grief and a sense of loss. While there is joy that my son has matured and is doing what we raised him to do, there is also sorrow knowing this season of mothering has come to a close. It is worth taking time to grieve the end of an era.

Launching a child marks the end of a precious time in life; a season that will never again cycle through and with that comes sadness. As one who has devoted decades of my life to raising the children God has entrusted to me, it feels to a great extent, like a loss of purpose. God gave me the good gift of raising these young men and the job as I have known it is finished. Yet the reality is, the purpose is not actually lost, but it has certainly changed.

For 18 years, my purpose as a mom was very hands-on. It was nearness; a sense of both presence and authority. Yet as each child has launched, the purpose has changed from that of a present guardian to one of sideline advisor.

My purpose used to be one of offering frequent input, coaching, and correction, but that has now shifted to being a discerning consultant, a quiet champion, and one who gives guidance upon request. My role used to be one of administration and shepherding. Now that role has changed to one of mentor and friend; influencer more than director. The reality is that as each child launches, the depth of love in my heart does not change for them, but the expression of that love must.

The goal was always independence and I worked diligently toward that goal. I raised them to leave and they are doing exactly what I set out to do. As a young mom, however, I didn’t understand the pain of the reality of reaching this goal.

Now, as each child launches, I have a deep realization of the fleeting nature of the years that were given. I better understand the elderly women who used to approach me in stores, exhorting me to enjoy the little years because they would soon be gone. I always knew those women intended well, but I had a hard time appreciating the perspective as I pushed a grocery cart laden with five rambunctious young boys through the store. I have the hindsight now to appreciate the sentimentality of their words.

In this season of reflection and transition, I find comfort in realizing that, while there are many things changing, there are also parts of my role which will remain the same. A part of my purpose as a mother has always been to pray for my sons and this piece does not change. The years and years of prayer that have built a foundation in each of my son’s lives is something that will carry on, maybe even in more earnest. While my role in mothering them has changed, my role in petitioning on their behalf remains the same. There is comfort in knowing that the same God who has heard my prayers for the last 18 years is faithful to continue to hear from me on behalf of my children, even as they leave our home.

In many ways, launching a child is a time of reckoning of faith. It forces one to wrestle with the question of what do I believe? Do I really believe the Lord’s closeness to them is enough? Do I believe that though my presence will be less, God’s presence does not change. Do I believe that though my nearness will no longer be steady, God’s is always there? Do I trust that while I will know less and less of their lives, God still knows them fully?

Can I truly surrender their path, knowing they will have less guidance from me, yet God has always gone before them? Can I rest as their faith becomes their own, believing God knows those who are his and he will remain faithful? Do I understand that God is big enough to take all the pieces of my parenting, the spaces I feel I did well and the places I know I missed the mark, and weave them into the beautiful tapestry of my sons’ lives? Can I see that God is not limited to work within my feeble attempts to be faithful? When questions arise – Are they ready? Did I do enough? -Can I rest in knowing I did what I could, and God’s faithfulness does not rely on what I accomplished in parenting? And do I recognize that letting go of the children God has entrusted to me is in itself an act of profound faith?

All of these pieces of letting go are part of the process of both raising our children yet also ultimately entrusting them to the hands of the One Who Knows Them Fully. My role is changing and change is hard, yet there is also beauty that comes with change; each child gains a deeper sense of who God has made them to be and in that there is great joy. The reality is, however, no matter how much I trust the Lord with my kids, no matter how much I remind myself that I raised them to leave, no matter the amount of beauty I see as they launch, this transition still hurts. It feels like loss. It’s worth taking time to grieve, even if I know ultimately I was faithful with what the Lord entrusted to me.