Transition

 I remember when my oldest went to kindergarten. That was about ten years ago now. We made it thru the first day. We walked into class, took some pictures. The second day, Wednesday, was a little rougher. We had to navigate the car line. I basically had to become a mama bird and push my little fledgling out of the nest. Then we had to do it again on Thursday. By Friday, my little bird took his first hesitant steps to the edge of the nest and flew a little bit. He was kind of hesitant getting out of the car, but he did. Then he lined himself up with all the other kindergarten students. By Monday, he was getting out of the car like a pro. I was the one holding back tears. That day he came home and let me know that he had walked to class with another friend. Tuesday, again walking to class with his friend. Wednesday and today, the kid walked to class by himself. I'm still the one holding back my tears. 

This was all part of him growing up. I know that. And it's good. It just seems that the transitions happened so fast. All of a sudden, he started to do everything by himself. This kid was in a setting I had very little control over. Sure, I can play the hover mother card, the pestering parent role. I did, I still do. I volunteer and go to the school. But instead of class parent, I have to peak from the door to see how my teenager is doing. Is he talking with friends? Participating in discussion? The teachers are kind, but also insistent that I give my bird some space to fly. The goal has always been that he would become independent. He is on his way.

Now things look a little different for the first day of school. Instead of one kid, I've got three. Instead of pulling out of car line to take a second and regroup, I have to tell the kids to keep the doors closed until I stop the car. We have switched towns and schools a few times. The oldest two are in high school, prepping for college. The youngest hit double digits this summer. Parenting is more about managing emotions than making sure each of them is physically safe. It's become a constant dance between stepping in and watching from a distance. Most of the time it looks like this. 

As I reread this, I am second guessing myself. Are we making the right choices? Will the family lessons stick and will our parenting voices be louder than those of the world? That's where a lot of these problems/worries lie. Within me. I need to back up and stop looking at me. I need to look up. To God. To The One who has been with our precious little babies since before I even knew about them. To Jehovah Rapha who was with my little guy in the hospital at 22 months. To Jehovah Shalom who was the peace and comfort each of my babies needed during one of the lowest points of my life. To Jehovah Nissi, their advocate and protector when I was forbidden to be. That's where my big kids are. Even when they leave the nest I've built, they are still in His hand. They have always been there, and always will be. That's where we can find comfort my friends. As they each are hitting their stride, spreading out their wings and flying off to the next stage, I'll keep making sure they have a soft and safe place to land.