Letting Go Doesn’t Mean Letting Her Figure Everything Out Alone — A Prayerful Mom’s Reality
Photo by Vista Wei (@vistawei)
It's late spring, the air is thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, and the days stretch long and full of promise. And yet, there's this quiet hum in my chest, a feeling I've carried for a while now, ever since my daughter started navigating the tricky waters of young adulthood. It’s the constant, internal tug-of-war between the mom I used to be and the mom I’m trying to become.
My heart still wants to swoop in, to clear every pebble from her path. My introverted self often feels the urge to silently strategize her entire next decade. But my head, and more importantly, my spirit, reminds me that her path *needs* those pebbles. She needs to learn to navigate them, to stumble, to find her own balance. That’s letting go, right? The kind of letting go everyone talks about. But here’s the thing: letting go doesn’t mean letting her drift.
For a prayerful mom like me, whose default setting is "fix it" and whose go-to strategy is "overthink it," letting go has become less about stepping back entirely and more about stepping *into* a different kind of support. My trusty planner might be full of work deadlines and grocery lists, but lately, the biggest 'task' written in the margins is simply 'Pray for [Daughter's Name].' It’s in those quiet moments, often before the coffee fully kicks in or after the house settles, that I hand her over, yet again, to the One who knows her far better than I do.
This isn’t about abandoning her to the wilderness. It’s about shifting my role from chief architect of her life to, well, perhaps a quiet, always-available consultant. One who mostly listens, occasionally offers a carefully chosen insight (only when asked, of course, because unsolicited advice tends to bounce right off), and always, always holds her in prayer. Sometimes my best parenting advice these days is a perfectly timed 'Mmm-hmm' followed by a hug. Less words, more presence.
It's messy. There are days I feel utterly useless, and days I want to grab her by the shoulders and rattle some sense into her. The fear of her making a difficult choice is real. But then I remember: the goal isn't control, it's connection. It’s about building a foundation of trust where she knows I’m her soft landing, her sounding board, and her fiercest unseen advocate. My letting go is less about cutting ties and more about loosening the grip, to allow room for her to bloom in her own brilliant way, with the quiet assurance that I’m still here, cheering her on, one prayer at a time.
We’re all navigating these evolving chapters of motherhood. How are you finding that delicate balance between letting go and staying connected? I'd genuinely love to hear your experiences in the comments below.
Comments
Post a Comment