When your children finally leave
My husband, Chris, and I are both in our mid-40s and we see our two adult sons on holidays now. I’m not a clingy person by nature, and remember how ready I was to fly the nest at their age, but each time they leave, I find myself going through a mental checklist of how to let them go all over again.
They totally love you. They just don’t need you the same way they did. Don’t try too hard. Don’t try to influence their time and decisions and choices, but be alongside of them as they make their own mistakes, set goals, begin again, and learn about grace, forgiveness, and forge their own path in life. And if they choose to confide in a trusted person who doesn’t happen to be you (or your spouse), be grateful they are seeking advice from anyone.
Believe in the groundwork you’ve done. When you’re feeling you haven’t done enough, it helps to remind yourself: You’ve spent the last eighteen years (or more) doing your level best to give your child tools to navigate life and choose things of eternal worth. You don’t plant a seed, and then keep digging it up to see if it’s sprouted. You may help water and protect it, sure, but it will need space and time to germinate and shoot.
Watch from the sidelines. The only way my parents and I communicated after I left home was by letter or the rare phone call, yet I always knew they were “there” for me, and felt secure in that. With today’s technology, I can text or video-call my sons every day of the week, if I so choose. I try to choose not to. What adult wants a helicopter parent? My aim is to honor their independence, trust their instincts, and to be available, not omnipresent.
Release them into the trust of God. In my church community, when a family receives a newborn child, it’s welcomed at a special service. A pastor, grandparent, or mentor prays a blessing on that child’s entire life. When I’m worried about my sons, I often come back to the promise of that blessing, and claim these words from the prophet Isaiah: “All your children will be taught by the Lord, and great will be their peace.”
Choose a secret way to keep them near your heart. Before our first son left home, we spent a last afternoon together at a hallowed fishing spot. While the boys and their dad caught and released Murray Cod, I sat and reflected on the “catch and release” nature of family life.
When we left, I brought with me a uniquely shaped piece of obsidian with several flat surfaces.
I wrote my sons’ initials, in Sharpie, on three of the sides, and placed the stone on the nightstand by my bed so that their names are hidden. It’s my solid and private reminder that they will always be with me in my heart, but I don’t need to hold them in my home.
Stay the course, and be true to your vocation. Let your kids see your authenticity through every season of life. For Chris and me, this means being honest with our sons when things are difficult for us, but never in a way that makes them feel guilty or holds them back.
We are deeply blessed with our sons’ presence, but don’t need to live vicariously through them. We know who we are as a couple going forward. Pray, serve, release, repeat. Embrace, in the wisdom of Henry Ward Beecher, “the two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots; the other, wings.”