Life is ironic. After a lifetime of struggles, I have finally found peace with my life, only to discover a greater fear of threats to my kids’ lives.
Their later teens and early twenties are rough on all of us. My daughter is our older child and my biggest struggle since it is all a first for me. I watch her struggle with her emotions and the hardships of this world. Overwhelmed by fears of what could happen to her, I can become more unsettled now than I’ve ever been.
I remember when she was a newborn. I held her in my arms, looked into her bright eyes, and I could physically feel the love between us. She was perfect – from the way her little baby head smelled to her wiggling, chubby toes. I imagined her growing beautiful and strong with a brilliant mind and loving heart. I pictured a good job and a large, happy family. Over the years, I’ve done my best to protect her from evil that would destroy that future.
It gets tough as she grows up. Her biggest struggles seem to erupt not from an outside assault, but from within her. The tantrums of a toddler give way to the self-centered focus of a child. The child grows into a middle-schooler who can be downright mean at times. High school brings a strange mix of self-doubt and know-it-all-ness that nobody knows how to deal with.
Her search for independence is inevitable, but part of my struggle. As she begins to fight her own battles, the wide-eyed admiration of a father who is strong enough to take on the world is withering away. The opinions she forms are replacing her unquestioning acceptance of my pearls of wisdom.
Searching for her own answers, she tunes me out. I explain risk to an invulnerable audience. Lectures on consequences are wasted on a thrillseeker who thinks my life is lame. She takes wild risks and carelessly handles her carefully crafted future. I watch in worry, afraid my delicate images will shatter in front of me.
She gets hurt and becomes sad. Her choices can bring consequences no one would have wanted. I stand by powerless to help. I can no longer scoop her up into my arms and make everything OK again. That’s hard for me to accept.
I miss the old days. It hurts to let them go. Slowly, I am releasing her future to her. My dreams for her must fade as her chosen path becomes real. Unneeded as her champion, she must face down her own demons.
My desire for control must be replaced by the bonds of love. Jesus has provided the example. Although he has a perfect plan for me, he designed me to make my own choices. Watching my struggles isn’t easy for him, either. But it is his love, not his power or control, that has transformed my life.
My heart will change when I let go and let love take over. The world around me will change as I release the same love as the savior. If I want to impact a child’s life, let it be through a love that draws us closer, not a grasp at control that makes her pull away.
I need to return to the same, simple love of a father holding his child in his arms. I have given love unconditionally before and I can do it again. I can provide comfort when screams come unexpectedly. I can listen with joy while she talks. I can watch in amazement as she creates masterpieces. I can smile as she plays with others. And I’ll still cry on her “first-” days.
One day, I will look into her bright eyes with unconditional love and she will look back at me the same way, just like we used to. How do I know?
Love wins.
Love wins.
Sometimes letting your young ones grow up is hard, but you are right, Love wins..