When the Mom Ache Hits, I Look for Answered Prayers

I’m not ready to turn the page.

My oldest son is moving to a different state for college.

He’s ready. Excited, even. But my heart’s suspended in the air, fighting the forward motion.

We give the gym his 30-day cancellation notice,
shop for dorm room essentials,
and pen the move-in date on the calendar.

Each reminder stirs up the mom ache. My hand hovers above the last page of this chapter, frozen in objection.

Jesus, help me let him go.
Help me give him my blessing so he feels complete freedom to fly.
Help me feel more pride for who I’m launching than pain for him leaving.

I’m at the town’s crowded summer parade sitting an inch away from another woman, forcing friendship. She tells me she goes to more parades now that her daughter is 32 years old because her adult-kid surprised everyone and joined the trampoline team. Her grandchild and his friend buzz around collecting candy. Her life is full.

Through the moment this truth echoes: my life will also still be full. Watching what my son does after he launches, the hope of future grandkids – tootsie pops and other sweetness will be thrown my way too. I felt my heart let my son go a little more.

Over dinner, my husband tells me he’s planning a vacation for next summer and his words tumble out like coins from the winning slot machine. The place sounds amazing, and the whole family’s going.

Through the moment this truth echoes: there’s always much to look forward to. Fly, kid, fly. With joy and our blessing. That’ll make the moments we do get to spend time with you even more sweet.

My son takes me to his workplace. His knowledge of the store is impressive, his interaction with his coworkers heartwarming, and his conversation with his boss admirable.

Through the moment this truth echoes: my son is ready and moving on is what’s best for him. Pride swells up like a balloon.

The small moments of realization answer my prayers. My hand loosens over the last page of the chapter, relaxing a bit. My heart has a few more weeks to prepare, but when it’s time, I know I’m going to flip that final paragraph over with hope.

Knowing that next season,
it might be different,
but it’s going to be great too.

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