My baby turns 18

18 years ago, Hubby and I were completely in awe over the new life that God entrusted into our care. I joke that Soccer Dude was perfect from the beginning – making his appearance on a Thursday night after I watched “Friends” and before the new episode of “ER” aired. His tiny perfection all of a sudden made me realize all that I lacked.

As we prepared to leave the hospital, I dug through my carefully packed suitcase looking for the long-sleeved undershirt I was sure had been on the list. I couldn’t find it. 18 years later and I can still feel my panic, thinking that I had failed to bring the layers he might need to keep him warm on the journey home.

Have I bundled him up warm enough? Should I hold his hand or let go? Have I taught him right from wrong? Should I push him harder or be more compassionate? I have asked myself endless questions on this journey of parenting over the years wondering if I am enough. Honestly, knowing that I am not enough.

I forgot to pack that onesie to bring him home from the hospital. I found out he could now roll over when he rolled off the bed and landed on his head on a concrete floor. I lost him at church once, and I almost let him drown when I wasn’t holding his hand next to the pool’s edge. I was sure he was going to die when he ate a huge, Peruvian bug. I think that was the same week that I left him on the floor with a stack of board books to rush the trash to the curb only to have the door slam and lock behind me. I was locked out. He was inside. I can laugh about that one now, but there have been so many more mistakes over the years that make me cry rather than laugh. Many I am too embarrassed to confess to you.

But grace and God.

If I could tell myself one thing 18 years ago as I bundled up my newborn for the car ride home, I would tell myself….”you aren’t God.” Break the news to my young self at the beginning. Maybe then, I would have done my best, and then put my efforts into trusting God with the outcomes.

I am not saying that I didn’t trust God at all. From an early age I put my trust in Jesus – but there are some areas of my life that are harder to leave in His capable hands. I like to give a good shot at being in control myself. I instinctively want to protect, teach, shape and guide my babies – as all parents should. My problems come when I feel the weight of each of those tasks solely on my shoulders. I forget to do what I am called to do, then let go, and trust God with the outcomes.

How? How, for the love of God, did Abraham climb Mount Moriah and offer his son, Isaac, on the altar? How did he saddle the donkey in preparation for the trip? How did he trust that God would provide the sacrifice just as he told Isaac that God would do? Abraham knelt his will and heart to God. That is a good parent. That is who I am striving to be. Daily I have to remind myself that Jesus is the one who has the final say and will provide everything that my son needs.

The absolute beauty of my baby turning 18 – I see how he is turning out. Now, I confess to being a very devoted and biased mother, but I think even others would testify to the fact that God has done a work in Soccer Dude’s heart. He is delightful, smart, compassionate, and doing his best to learn wisdom. He has a heart for the world and the desire to make it better. None of this is solely because of me. Dropping him on his head as an infant didn’t make him mean. Homeschooling him didn’t leave gaps in his knowledge, and carting him all over the globe hasn’t made him an awkward third culture kid. The missing long-sleeved onesie on that first car ride home did not scar him for life.

I don’t know if Soccer Dude will be with us for his next birthday. He is making plans to head off to university and live on campus. We are so proud of him as he dreams of his future, but sad to see him go. So this birthday, I bought his icecream cake with tears wondering how he will get cake next year, yet knowing that it really is time to let go.

It is a new season of parenting. I am sure I will struggle with worry. I’ll wonder if he is ok, if he is bundled up enough, and if he has all that he needs. But during this season I am going to try to remember that I am not God. He doesn’t need me. Ultimately, Jesus is the one that he needs.

Hopefully, I can remember the same with our youngest. It is a bit crazy to have a new kindergartner at the same time our oldest is headed to college. For me that is one of God’s gifts of grace. Poor soccer dude has had to teach me all the hard lessons on parenting. Maybe with Moe I can put them into practice and not be so hard on myself.

I lack the ability to shape my children into the awesome adults I hope they will become, but God can. He won’t drop them on their heads, won’t let them drown, or leave them out in the cold. Good stuff, right?! So I am letting go. Giving it over to the one who lacks nothing. I will worry less and pray more. I will try to slow down and enjoy the moments. I will lean into Jesus and learn the lessons that he has for my heart and trust that my relationship with Him will spill over as blessings onto my children.

I will let you know how I did with that task when Moe turns 18.

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