The Mercy of Letting Them Grow

The other day, I asked my daughter if she wanted me to chaperone her first middle school dance. I thought I was being thoughtful—offering to be there, to keep an eye, to help her feel safe. But she looked at me with a mix of excitement and quiet confidence and said, “Mom, I want this to be my thing.”

Her words landed heavy and beautiful all at once. Isn’t that what motherhood really is? A long, steady process of letting go—little by little—so they can step into who God is calling them to be.

It’s so tempting to hold on tightly. We want to hover, to protect, to stay near. But more and more, I see my role shifting. My daughter’s request reminded me that part of loving her well is stepping back and giving her room to grow—even when every part of me wants to hold on.

This morning, my son, who is in his last year of elementary school, leaned over and gave me a kiss goodbye. My heart swelled with gratitude, but almost immediately came the ache: How long will this last? One day soon, those kisses might stop, and I’ll have to be okay with that too. Not because love has faded, but because he, just like his sister, is becoming who God designed him to be.

Motherhood is full of these small “lasts.” Sometimes we don’t even realize they’re the last until they’re gone. “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12

The world can feel scary. We know the Scripture: “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves” (Matthew 10:16). That’s how it feels sometimes—sending our children into middle school hallways, locker rooms, and dances. Places where we can’t stand guard every second. Places where their hearts will be stretched, tested, and, God willing, strengthened.

Trusting God With What We Can’t Control

And while I can’t shield them from everything life will launch at them, I can point them to the armor God has already provided. As Paul wrote, “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes” (Ephesians 6:11). The belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith—all are already theirs.

So I nodded, smiled, and told my daughter, “Okay, sweetheart. This one’s yours.” And I savored my son’s goodbye kiss, knowing that when it fades, it’s not loss—it’s growth. Both are invitations for me to trust God more deeply.

A Mercy in Motion

Motherhood is mercy in motion—the mercy to release, the mercy to trust, the mercy to let our children spread their wings even when our hearts want to hold them close.

And maybe that’s the very lesson Jesus was teaching us: sending them out isn’t abandonment—it’s preparation. It’s not the end of my role; it’s the beginning of their walk.

A Parent’s Prayer

Lord,

Thank You for the gift of my children—these precious lives You’ve entrusted to me.

Give me the wisdom to guide them, the patience to release them, and the faith to trust You with every step they take.

When I want to cling too tightly, remind me that You love them even more than I do.

Cover them with Your protection, fill them with Your Spirit, and let them always know that no matter where they go, they are never alone.

Help me rest in the mercy of letting go and the joy of watching them grow.

Amen.