Maybe it’s because I wrote Judah’s birth story recently, and then have spent the last ten days on and off editing it (and editing photos), but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to offer my children to God.
And let me be honest.
I do’t want to.
I want them for myself.
I want to guard them and protect them and hold them as closely as possible.
I don’t want to give them away to anyone else.
And yet I do.
I want the world to know them, love them, reap the riches of all that their lives have to offer.
This paradox of parenthood—of love—baffles me: embracing and releasing. I am given tehse precious little ones to have and hold and raise and then…. I must also release them.
Even parents who don’t share my faith understand this. We know that our children are not actually given to us, they’re entrusted to us… for a time. We are to raise them and parent them well and teach them how to love and be loved…
And then let them go.
What a seemingly impossible task. What a noble task.
One that I hope to do well.
I want my kids one day to be able to turn to me and say thanks.
Thanks, mom, for releasing us to be all that we are.
Q for you: How are you deliberate about “letting go” of the people who are most dear to you?