On Letting Them Soar

Can I be totally honest about something? 

I have a hard time letting go. 

This translates in a number of ways: things that people have said to me in the past still haunt (and hurt) me. Things that people have done to hurt those I love still upset me, no matter how far removed the situation(s). Etc. 

I try hard to move on and move past and forgive, forgive, forgive, as Jesus commands. But. Easier said than done. I am working on it, every day. But it's tough! I am a sensitive lil' bird and when my feelings are hurt, and my heart is hurt, ugh. I struggle. 

I realize this is now extending to my children. Let me explain. 

I am a very hands-on kind of momma. I find great joy in actually playing with my kiddos. For example, on any given evening, should you walk by my home, you would see (1) me throwing cartwheels and back walkovers and handstands and front handsprings with Raleigh; (2) me playing two-hand touch football with Banks; (3) me playing tennis with all three littles in our driveway; (4) me helping Raleigh and Harrison hunt for snails under our rocks; (5) me having foot races with Banks. Etc. I cherish it and relish in it. I take advantage of these fun-filled (albeit challenging and exhausting) years.

You see, I readily recognize that it won't always be so cool to play with good ol' momma bird. 

And now, it seems that day may come sooner than later. And I am having a hard time letting go of what I want and accepting what they want.

My kiddos are social little creatures and have an awesome network of friends in the neighborhood. And I love that! I love that they have so many sweet friends, who they are growing up alongside, especially when their mommas are my sweet friends, who I get to grow up alongside. 

My little baby birds. They want to spread their wings:

These days, they ask for playdates all the time, pretty much daily. And I am having a hard time letting go and sending them on their way. Because I want to be with them. I want to keep them safe and sound in my own little nest. I want to hold tight to these younger years, where I can hold them close under their momma's wing. I, I, I. 

I see the problem here.

Holding on tightly isn't about them. It's about me, me, me. It's about my fears and my struggles with not letting go.

I haven't taught them to fly only to keep them in my nest, under my wing. 

Sometimes I've got to let go and watch them soar.