Letting go with love

By Christine

Letting go is not one of my specialties.

In moments of adolescent stress, my mother would tell me to "let go and let God." It sounded pretty good, and I'd try my hardest to see the wisdom in her words. It made sense to stop worrying about this thing or that. I even managed to master its principles for the most part. Then I had children.

Suddenly, my wisdom was thrown out the window, and I was left to start all over again.

Letting go and letting God is easier said than done. When you have children, it can feel darn right impossible.

My 6-year-old is going to attend first grade in September. To ease the transition, we have begun practicing her walk to school and back. At first, she ran a little ahead of me, always turning back to make certain I was still behind her. I was.

She then began running all the way to the yield sign around the corner, testing her wings and her confidence. With each day, and ever so gently, I have allowed her hand to glide out of mine and into the air as she flaps her way to the crosswalk without me. Becoming bolder, she recently challenged my mother heart by requesting to cross the street. By herself. Without my supervision. With a lump in my throat, I conceded. It was time she did it herself.

We had been through the drill a thousand times. Look both ways before you cross the street. Listen for cars around the corner (there is a blind spot for both pedestrians and drivers). When the coast is clear, run as fast as you can across the street and never, ever dart between parked cars.

Walking the alternative route briskly with my 3-year-old son, I prayed for her safety. She landed beautifully on the front step just as we did. My shoulders relaxed a little.

The ultimate test of letting go came just a week later.

We decided to go to an amusement park. It was a hot Thursday and we were there with thousands of other visitors who wanted to enjoy the mid-week holiday by doing the same.

When we first arrived, we made an action plan.

"If you get lost," I told my doe-eyed son, "go up to the woman in the blue shirt with the smiley face on the back. She will find us." Occasionally, we would hear intercom announcements about lost children looking for their parents. Apparently, my daughter, Sophia, was listening.

Three hours later, under a shady tree, I took a respite while my husband managed both kids near an overcrowded treehouse. Occasionally, we checked in with each other. Then suddenly, Sophia was gone. As Andreas approached me with the bad news, we both heard a familiar name being called on the loudspeakers.

"Sophia Hohlbaum, six years old, is looking for her parents at the treehouse." We beamed with pride at our little girl as we scooped her up at the information station.

"You did it!" I exclaimed, pushing her tear-stained face into my hair. On that hot, sticky afternoon, I tried hard not to clutch her too tightly.

Comments

[Ernest Elliott]

As the father of six and, currently, grandfather of eight, I read your post with a wry smile. Letting go is tough, but a must. Great job with your little one.

[Sarah Aguirre]

Christine, your story nearly stopped my heart. I'm so glad your smart little girl knew what to do. The same thing happened with our seven-year-old son at the State Fair last year. A crowd of people came by as my husband and our four children were walking to a show. My son became tangled up with the crowd but remembered to stand in the same spot and scream my name. Although he was only lost for a minute, the experience terrified me and made me proud all at the same time.

[Eileen Flanagan]

One of the things that surprised me most about becoming a parent was how I became a much more fearful, cautious person. In my twenties I hitchhiked around Africa and the Middle East and never feared for my safety (except for once in Lesoto). Now I'm the kind of mother who runs out and buys the fire safety ladder from Home Depot "just in case." How did this happen to me?

[David Child]

My only concern is the instruction to run as fast as possible across the street. Running carries some increased risk of stumbling, leaving a person in a more dangerous position than walking briskly. Or so I was told somewhere after the stone age.

[Ron Southern]

You had me tensed up, but it was a happy ending. Another smart little girl. She reminds me of my niece, who has now become 8 and is now smarter than me.