Catch and Release

The Empty Nest and Letting Go

It’s a push/pull, this mothering business. Holding on while at the same time, letting go. As our tiny, helpless, beautiful babies arrive, we vow to hold them close, keep them safe, and never let the world and all its fears, worries, and heartaches get too close. We become mama-fierce, protective as she-lions, ready to devour anyone who trys to harm them.

And all along, we applaud each move toward independence. “She lifted her head!” “He rolled over!” “She sat up!” “Look at him walking—such a big boy!” They grow as each day, each year, we teach them how to do it on their own.

We remind her, “You’re a big girl now.” We cheer him on when he climbs a tree. And we hug and hold them close the first time we let them ride the school bus, wiping away our mama-tears. And we let them ride. We let them grow.

Years spin by

The seasons and years spin faster and faster, and we keep letting go. Letting them learn and then letting them do it alone. Letting them make mistakes. Letting them fall and letting them fail. Our hearts want to protect and shield, but if we cling too tight, we will stunt their growth and hold them back. The truth we must face is this: every day, our children need us a little less.

We cry and worry and pray as we realize that parenting is only a part of our journey, it’s not our whole life.

Our children create their own lives, and they will be drawn to a variety of new and different interests. Remember when they used to like everything you liked? They wanted to be just like you. But now, off they go. They have changed and so have their tastes.

They are interested in things that you never in a million years imagined. And that’s okay. But admittedly, it is weird and takes some getting used to. “She used to think this was so cool.” “He used to love doing this.” “Who is this kid?”

Raising to release

If we are doing it right, we raise to release. We love them to let them go. We let them be who they were created to be. We send them out into the world and marvel and applaud as they find their way and discover their own lives. We are the foundation. They start here but grow to become so much more as our ceiling becomes their floor.

The best time to begin preparing for the After Party is now…because in the end, we raise them to let them go. We raise them to leave the nest, train them to live on their own, and cheer them on from the sidelines when they go. And that’s the hardest part.

Because they do go.

Because mothering is a journey of letting go...a holy release made possible only by holding onto the One that matters most. Like little slippery fish, we catch them, hold them for a moment as the sun glints on their strange, silvery skin, and then we throw them back. If we hold on too long, they’ll gasp for air, suffocate, and stink up the boat. Fish were not created to breathe our air; they must breathe their own in the setting created and perfectly suited for them.

A holy giving back

God gives us our beautiful little fish, these shimmering, silver-skinned lives to hold and mold for a season. Then He expects us to give them back, to catch and release, to let Him do with their lives what He will.

It is by far the toughest part of parenting, this holy, hard giving back...this sacred release into God’s mysterious purpose. We are fishers of men in more ways than one.

And we cling to the One who called us. We thank Him for the gift of raising our beautiful slippery fish as our hands and hearts prepare to let them go into all the world, the deep ocean of His purpose.

And we breathe, and we pray.

And we release…

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Excerpt from The After Party of the Empty Nest: Mom is Not Your Only Name by Kate Battistelli

The After Party Devotional Companion