The warm weather is here. That means that my eleven year old son has pulled his bike out of the basement and is spending long periods of time out in the neighborhood with his friends.
It’s okay. We live in a very safe neighborhood and the kids are mostly great.
It’s just hard letting go.
When we moved here Sean was five years old. The first summer he wasn’t even allowed out into the road. The summer of six he was allowed to ride his bike (with training wheels) on the road in front of the house only. The summer of seven his boundaries were extended two driveways in either direction. Actually those boundaries lasted into the next year too. It was the summer that he turned nine that he earned the entire length of our side of the horse-shoe-shaped subdivision.
Last year he negotiated for short excursions to the other side of the horseshoe, but he lost the privilege when one day came that I was unable to “call him home” because he had actually “left the horseshoe.”
Only other Mom’s can truly relate to the gut wrenching fear that comes when you cannot call your child home. You don’t know what the situation is. Does he hear me and just isn’t answering to try to buy an extra five minutes with his friends? Is he in a friend’s house without permission? Is he in a stranger’s house? Is he hurt? Has he been snatched up by a freak and is already ten minutes up I 75?
Don’t laugh. Those thoughts come in those scary minutes when your child doesn’t answer to your call.
When he did finally respond to my screams – the relief that comes makes all the terror filled thoughts fade instantly into “Why didn’t you answer me!?” The inevitable “I didn’t hear you” is no consolation.
His barriers immediately shrank back to the summer of nine levels and stayed there. Until today.
Today he is eleven, almost twelve, and when he pulled the bike out of the basement and rode off on the winter-flat tires I knew I would have to stretch the apron strings again and let him go.
Honestly, I don’t want to. A part of me wants to unreasonably require him to stay within sight and sound of the house like it used to be in the summer of eight.
I don’t know how I am going to handle this summer, the summer of twelve. The testosterone is flowing and his independence is growing. He has to test himself and I know he will surely be testing me.
Mothers have been letting go of little boys since the beginning of time. I’m sure I can do it too. One summer at a time.
Father God, Help me to trust You with my boy. Help me to let him go and grow. And Father, I am sorry for the many times when I have strayed outside of Your boundaries for me. Thank you that I can never go so far that You cannot call me home. In Jesus Name, Amen.
