🌸 I Love My Child, but I Cannot Live Her Life

Scripture

“Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.” — Psalm 62:8 (KJV)

There was a time when so much of my child's life was mine to manage.

I decided what she ate. What time she went to bed. Where she went. Who cared for her. I scheduled appointments, talked with teachers, bought the clothes, packed what she needed and tried to anticipate problems before they became problems.

When she was little, protecting her often meant doing something.

Then children grow.

And one of the harder parts of motherhood is realizing that the job begins to change before our hearts are completely ready for it.

They have opinions we did not give them.

Friendships we did not choose.

Conversations we are not part of.

Experiences we cannot arrange.

Disappointments we cannot prevent.

Eventually, they will make decisions we would not make.

And that can be frightening when you have spent years believing that part of loving your child means keeping her safe.

I am learning that there comes a point when loving my child also means recognizing where her life begins and mine ends.

That does not mean I stop parenting.

It does not mean I become silent when she needs guidance.

It does not mean I ignore something dangerous or pretend every choice is a good one.

It means I have to remember something that motherhood can make surprisingly difficult to remember:

My child belongs to God before she belongs to me.

I can teach her.

I can pray for her.

I can set boundaries while she is under my care.

I can tell her what I have learned.

I can remind her who she is.

I can create a home where she knows she can come to me.

But I cannot believe for her.

I cannot make every decision for her.

I cannot keep every hurt from reaching her.

I cannot follow her into every room she will ever enter.

And I cannot live her life.

That last one is difficult.

Because sometimes we can see something coming.

We recognize the friendship that may hurt them.

We know what can happen when a decision is made too quickly.

We remember mistakes from our own lives and desperately want to save our children from learning certain lessons the way we had to learn them.

Everything in us wants to reach in and rearrange the pieces.

But there will be moments when our children need something from us that feels much harder than fixing:

They need us to trust God with them.

Not casually.

Not because we have run out of things to do.

But because He can go where we cannot.

God can be with my child in the classroom when I am not there.

He can sit beside her at the lunch table.

He can be present in conversations I will never hear.

He can bring conviction when my words are no longer the words she wants to hear.

He can place people in her life who reinforce what she has been taught at home.

He can protect her in ways I will never know about.

And when she makes mistakes—and she will, because she is human—God can meet her there too.

Maybe part of raising a child is slowly learning to move our hands from holding tightly to holding faithfully.

There is a difference.

Holding tightly says, I have to make sure everything turns out right.

Holding faithfully says, Father, show me what is mine to do, and help me trust You with what is not.

I think I will be learning that prayer for a long time.

Because independence does not arrive all at once.

It comes in little pieces.

The first time they don't want your help.

The first decision they make without asking you.

The first thing they would rather tell a friend.

The first time you realize they have been working something out in their own mind before bringing it to you.

And eventually, the bigger things come too.

Education.

Work.

Relationships.

Marriage.

Faith.

The direction of their lives.

A mother's love does not become smaller as her child's world becomes larger.

But our role has to make room for growth.

And maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is the freedom to become the people God is calling them to be—not simply the people we imagined they would become.

That requires something from us too.

It requires knowing when to speak.

Knowing when to listen.

Knowing when to step in.

Knowing when to step back.

And knowing that stepping back does not mean stepping away.

Sometimes it simply means making room for our children to recognize God's voice for themselves.

🌸 The MOMENT

There may be something in your child's life right now that you wish you could manage for her.

Before you step in, ask God:

“Father, what is mine to do here?”

And then ask the harder question:

“What belongs to You?”

The answer may not always be comfortable.

But motherhood was never meant to make us our children's God.

It gives us the sacred responsibility of helping them know the One who is.

🙏 A Mother's Prayer

Father, thank You for trusting me with the privilege of being her mother. You know how deeply I love her. You also know the places where my love becomes worry and where my desire to protect her makes it difficult for me to loosen my grip.

Give me wisdom to know when she needs my guidance and when she needs room to grow. Help me listen before I correct, pray before I react and speak in ways that keep the door between us open.

Protect her when I cannot. Give her discernment when I am not there to advise her. Surround her with people who will encourage what is good in her. When she makes mistakes, meet her with the same grace and mercy You have given me.

And Father, when I am tempted to take responsibility for things that belong to You, remind me that You love her even more than I do.

Help me raise her with open hands.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

MOMENT: My child needs my love, my guidance and my prayers. She does not need me to live her life.

Pause. Pray. Guide. Trust God with the rest.

❤️ Every MOMENT Matters.

— Monica Lynne Wilkins
MOMENT Moms™
MOMENTMoms.org