The warm weather
is here. That
means that my
eleven year old
son has pulled
his bike out of
the basement and
is spending long
periods of time
out in the
neighborhood
with his
friends.
It's okay. We
live in a very
safe
neighborhood and
the kids are
mostly great.
It's just hard
letting go.
When we moved
here Sean was
five years old.
The first summer
he wasn't even
allowed out into
the road. The
summer of six he
was allowed to
ride his bike
(with training
wheels) on the
road in front of
the house only.
The summer of
seven his
boundaries were
extended two
driveways in
either
direction.
Actually those
boundaries
lasted into the
next year too.
It was the
summer that he
turned nine that
he earned the
entire length of
our side of the
horse-shoe-shaped
subdivision.
Last year he
negotiated for
short excursions
to the other
side of the
horseshoe, but
he lost the
privilege when
one day came
that I was
unable to "call
him home"
because he had
actually "left
the horseshoe."
Only other Mom's
can truly relate
to the gut
wrenching fear
that comes when
you cannot call
your child home.
You don't know
what the
situation is.
Does he hear me
and just isn't
answering to try
to buy an extra
five minutes
with his
friends? Is he
in a friend's
house without
permission? Is
he in a
stranger's
house? Is he
hurt? Has he
been snatched up
by a freak and
is already ten
minutes up I 75?
Don't laugh.
Those thoughts
come in those
scary minutes
when your child
doesn't answer
to your call.
When he did
finally respond
to my screams -
the relief that
comes makes all
the terror
filled thoughts
fade instantly
into "Why didn't
you answer me!?"
The inevitable
"I didn't hear
you" is no
consolation.
His barriers
immediately
shrank back to
the summer of
nine levels and
stayed there.
Until today.
Today he is
eleven, almost
twelve, and when
he pulled the
bike out of the
basement and
rode off on the
winter-flat
tires I knew I
would have to
stretch the
apron strings
again and let
him go.
Honestly, I
don't want to. A
part of me wants
to unreasonably
require him to
stay within
sight and sound
of the house
like it used to
be in the summer
of eight.
I don't know how
I am going to
handle this
summer, the
summer of
twelve. The
testosterone is
flowing and his
independence is
growing. He has
to test himself
and I know he
will surely be
testing me.
Mothers have
been letting go
of little boys
since the
beginning of
time. I'm sure I
can do it too.
One summer at a
time.
Father God, Help
me to trust You
with my boy.
Help me to let
him go and grow.
And Father, I am
sorry for the
many times when
I have strayed
outside of Your
boundaries for
me. Thank you
that I can never
go so far that
You cannot call
me home. In
Jesus Name,
Amen.
Ezine
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