I think teaching him how to drive last year was an analogy for our current relationship. There were many times when I cried “Stop!” or “Go!”, depending on the situation and his reaction or non-reaction to it. There were many times I prayed as we set out (especially on the highway); prayed as I embraced him before he left me for driving school; and prayed again as he drove off with his instructor. Just be calm; just be calm! Trust him, I told myself repeatedly.
There were also many times when my own weaknesses came into play while I attempted to guide him. Sometimes I gave my son confusing directions or had him change course too quickly. I yelled at him. Often I exclaimed, “What the heck are you doing?” He, in turn, asserted my directions were unclear, poorly communicated. We were stressed and frustrated with each other.
It’s not easy to navigate from the passenger seat. You’ve ceded control. And sometimes you, the parent, don’t know what’s best or where they, your precious teenager, should be going.
But as I taught my son to drive, I also recognized the abilities and skills he has that I lack. I witnessed his strengths at work. He kept his cool when an aggressive driver threw something at our minivan with all my children on board. The incident wrecked my day and caused me many tears, but my son was calm and just kept moving forward. I was incredibly proud of him. Later, he also avoided another accident while driving with his instructor, thinking and responding quickly to danger at a four-way stop.
Now he is driving everywhere by himself, near and far. I can’t always accompany him. I can’t guard him from every negative thing he may confront on the roadway.
I must pray and trust all will be well for my son.
Berto, my strong, intelligent, handsome firstborn, is going to be just fine. I do trust him, and I trust God to help him navigate his promising future.
I must let go by healthy degrees.
When my son was a little boy, he used to love a book titled If You Hold My Hand by Jillian Harker. I read it to him often, because as a little child he was often unsure, more timid in confronting new things, situations, and people. Now? Now the story has changed. Our relationship has changed. Berto has grown and matured. The new title of our story would be, If You Let Go of My Hand.
That is why I am so grateful and honored when he chooses to discuss a problem with me, wanting and appreciating my perspective. I’m happy when he shares his joys, too – those incidents I could not know about except through his openness.
I will release his hand more and more as he approaches manhood, for it’s time my son put away childish things.
But in my heart I will forever and always hold him close, for just as another classic story that we often read when he was small, Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, states so well and so poignantly, as long as I’m living my baby he’ll be.
