This past August one of my sons rented a house in town and announced to the world his intention of marrying his high school sweetheart. I struggled and I am still struggling with letting go, and cutting some tightly tied apron strings.
It is difficult, for a mama like myself who wanted every one of her children so much and who loved and needed each of them terribly. Especially difficult for one who relished motherhood to the degree of wanting to be not only a full time stay-at-home mom and a homeschooling teacher mom besides.
Does loosing him and losing him mean the same thing? Well no, not at all. But, somehow I have felt as if it did.
Instead it means I let go and stand back and watch as my boy becomes a man, as he discovers himself, tests his faith, and uses the education and skills I have attempted to help him develop. It will be fun to watch. Scary, maybe, but fun.
His moving out on his own is what I raised him for and it is normal and good and okay. It is hard because I want to hold on. It’s my mom instinct to want him close where I can tend him, but it is time for him to be on his own, to make his own choices, pay his own way, tend to himself and his place. He doesn’t need my sheltering anymore. He needs to be loosed. And that is a good thing.
Tonight he came over with a car part and asked his dad to help him repair a brake issue. He also stayed for supper and after supper sat on the couch beside me gabbing. (Alton talking, imagine that!) “You’d better get headed on home, ” I told him.
“But I like it here. Thanks for supper. That potato soup was really good. I love you, Mom.” He hugged me, his dad and siblings, and gathered up a few more of his stray possessions, and a helping of soup for his next day’s lunch (?) and off he went.
“See you tomorrow night ’bout suppertime,” he said grinning as he left. “Just kidding.”
Nope, I haven’t lost him at all.