There’s a moment in motherhood when love demands letting go.
We spend years holding on—cradling babies, grasping tiny fingers as toddlers find their footing, pulling children into our arms when they need comforting—and then, almost without warning, it’s time to let go.
A few years ago, my Instagram feed was full of photos of women holding their all-grown-up sons. It was a trend born of someone’s belated realization that she’d held her son for the last time without knowing it was the last time. Mothers everywhere wanted a do-over, to have one last “holding” they could mark and remember.
I didn’t ask our son Robbie to leave his new wife and come home so I could pick him up one more time (and honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to do it; he’s over six feet tall and I seem to be shrinking by the week). But as I pondered the “letting go” that happens to every mother, a photo from their wedding became all the more precious.
If you’ve got adult children, you know what I mean. Whether it’s the college drop-off, the job in a far-away town, or the day when your child says “I do” and you know they belong to another, you feel the shift. You’re not on the front lines anymore. You’re in the bleachers—watching, worrying, and cheering from the sidelines.
And praying. You never stop praying.
One mother’s letting-go story
I think about Hannah, whose story shows up at the beginning of 1 Samuel. Years of infertility—an ache made all the more painful when stacked against another mother’s gloating—had her crying out to the Lord, begging for a son. So desperate was this prayer that the priest thought Hannah was intoxicated.
But Hannah wasn’t drunk. She was desperate. Desperate enough to surrender, vowing that if God would answer her prayer, she would give her boy back “to the Lord for all the days of his life.”
And she meant it. When God gave her a baby—a son she named Samuel (which means “heard by God”)—Hannah took the little boy to live at the temple.
Forever.
Hannah said goodbye to Samuel with a prayer born out of gratitude and joy, a prayer that—unlike mine at the college drop off—apparently came with no hint of sniffling. (Okay, sobbing.)
The Bible doesn’t tell us much more about Hannah, other than that God blessed her with more children and that, every year, she made a little robe for Samuel and took it to him at the temple.
Did Hannah pray for her son as she stitched the garment? Did she ask God to help him make wise decisions, and to protect him in an environment that was not always holy or good? I have to think that she did. And as I picture her taking the little robe to the temple each year, I am reminded that surrender—letting go of our children, and trusting God with their futures—is not a one-time act. It’s a posture.
God’s faithfulness continues as the story unfolds. Samuel grows up enjoying the favor of God and of others, and he becomes Israel’s prophet and priest. God uses him in ways that go far beyond anything Hannah could have dreamed—immeasurably more than all she could have asked or imagined. (Ephesians 3:20)
Put your kids in God’s arms
This Mother’s Day, if you find yourself in a season of letting go—of surrender—remember that sometimes the deepest love comes through trust. We can trust God, knowing that no matter how far away our children might be (physically, emotionally, or spiritually), they are never out of his reach. And he loves our kids even more than we do.
That’s not a platitude. That’s a reality. Not a week goes by that I don’t hear from a mom or dad whose heart is breaking over a choice or decision their child has made, often when the child is a teenager or an adult and not open to counsel, correction, or even comfort. But you know what? That’s painful, but it’s okay. We don’t have to be our children’s teacher all the time; God says that’s his job. “All your children will be taught by the Lord,” he promises in Isaiah 54:13, “and great will be their peace.”
We might not always be able to pull our children into our arms, but we can put them in God’s.
Heavenly Father,
Teach my children, just as you promised. Give them—and give me—the gift of your peace. (Isaiah 54:13)
Amen.
❤️
If you’ve just signed up for what my website calls a “quarterly-ish” newsletter, the old-timers (you know who you are, and thank you) can tell you what technology can’t: Quarterly is kind of a synonym for whenever. BF Skinner—the guy who perfected his “random reinforcement theory” by feeding rats—maintained that it is the very uncertainty of a hoped-for reward that makes the process so engaging. Let’s hope he’s right.
Happy Mother’s Day!
(And P.S. our friends at FaithGateway are running a spring sale on all the Praying the Scriptures titles. If you’re looking for a gift for a new mom, a wedding present, or something to mark a child’s high school or college graduation, they’ve got you covered!)
