I sat in that auditorium with 6000 other parents/family
members – all cheery faced and excited to watch their teenager walk across the
stage. I wondered if I was the only one that secretly wished that my kid
had failed a couple of grades. As I sat there I replayed so many moments
in my head – this was the day or reckoning – this was the day of true
sacrifice.
When our babies were newborn we dedicated them to God.
We stood in front of our church family, locked arm in arm with each other,
faces beaming with pride and gave a vow to God to raise our children to be
Godly people. We gave them back to God – we admitted that He alone was
the giver of this precious gift and that we would ultimately trust Him with
this precious life. Then we strapped our sleepy bundle of joy back in
their carseat, covered them with a blanket, went home, locked the doors, tucked
them in to bed and listened to the baby monitor all night long…..prepared to
jump in to superhero mode if we heard so much as a whimper.
As the years went by, we walked them to school – I trust you
God. We watched them as they walked down the hall to class (out of sight
of course) – I trust you God. We screened friends (and their parents), we
called cell phones, we waited up, we made balanced meals, we monitored homework
and internet use – I trust you God. We lectured, we loved, we laughed, we
cried – but today…….today felt different. I couldn’t follow him down the
hall. My moments were slipping away, like sand in an hourglass.
Soon the rubber would meet the road. Would I really trust God with my
precious gift? How could anyone love him the way that I love him – how
could anyone know him like I do – how could anyone truly understand what an
amazing heart my boy has??
To you, he looks like a teenager. Gangly and clumsy –
growing in to a fine young man. You may see a US Navy Sailor – the one
who will defend the freedom of this great country. You see a young boy
full of hopes and dreams – full of puppy love for the high school sweetheart he
will leave behind. His future seems bright – the possibilities are
endless – he is excited to start his journey. So why do I feel like
Abraham – leading Isaac up the mountain. Why does my heart feel such
pride and sorrow all at the same time?? Gladness and grief both
struggling to occupy the same spot in my heart??
As I sit in the stands and watch my boy, now a man, make his
way across the stage, I am overcome with fear. How do I let him go – how
do I know that I’ve done my part - how did the years slip by so fast, so
unnoticed? I scrutinize every word, every action, every moment and I know
that now is when I must truly trust God to take care of him. Now is the
true dedication – now is when I really lay him before the throne. Now is
where I let go and letting go is hard – he is my boy, my friend, my biggest
blessing and my hero – I will miss him, his laughter, his sighs when I ask him
to take out the trash – even his dirty room. And my heart aches because I
know that this moment changes everything.
This boy that we’ve spent the last 18 years loving and
protecting will get hurt, he will fall, he will fail, he will get his heart
broken. He will probably see atrocities that most of us only see on
television, he will bear a weight that many of us cannot even fathom. He
will be lonely and scared – he will cry – he will miss my home cooking. I
know all of this and yet I must lay him down – I must let go. My
opportunity is gone – my role as his mother is changing with every second – now
is where I realize the weight of the vow that we made all those years ago……
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