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I thought I was ready to drop our firstborn off at college.
At the beginning of his senior year I started collecting kisses. Whenever he’d walk through the kitchen on his way out the door to school, or on his way back in from practice, I’d point to my forehead or my cheek and ask, "Please give your mama an extra kiss." I guess I needed to pretend those kisses would hold me after he left for college.
I also thought I was ready because he’s ready. It feels good and right to watch the boy you birthed launch into the next chapter of his life with a good head on his shoulders and a firm foundation under his feet. Yes, he’s ready.
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But it’s been three days since we hugged him goodbye in front of his dorm and my face has stayed wet with tears. I wasn’t ready.
As students head off to college for the first time, it's a moment of pride and sadness for many mothers.
This isn’t a feeling anyone can prepare you for. Even a year full of extra kisses won’t keep the tears at bay. It’s a strange thing to feel so many conflicting emotions. Excitement, grief, happiness, loss, pain, pride, peace, longing for more time and looking forward to all that’s ahead – these emotions make me feel OK and not OK all at once.
I’m grateful we have complete peace about the place he’s chosen to spend the next four (or let’s be honest, five) years. He’s an Auburn man now, and we couldn’t be prouder of who he’s become. But good grief I am going to deeply miss his daily presence! I think that’s the primary source of pain. The dailyness of his presence.
I’ll miss the daily texts, communicating about the little things like "When will you be home from practice?" or "What sounds good for dinner?" I’ll miss the daily soundbites I’d get about his day when he’d collapse on the couch after a long day. I’ll miss that feeling of relief that washes over me when he pulls into the driveway, knowing he’s home safely. Oh, how I’ll miss the nightly "I love you mama" he’d warmly say as I’d head up to bed long before him.
All of this I will deeply miss while I also look forward with hopeful expectation to what’s next for him. Now we get to watch him navigate young adulthood and fulfill his hunger for purpose and meaning with all the seeds we’ve planted and all the tools we’ve offered.
A few hours after we began the long drive home from Auburn, my phone chimed with a text from a good friend. She knows me well, and she knew this day would not be easy.
"How ya doing, mama?"
I replied by explaining how my eyes were puffy and swollen since we’d said goodbye to our son just a few hours earlier. "I’m just going to miss him so much."
Her response was simple but profound. "You left it all on the field!" Just one sentence that not only comforted me in my grief but gave me understanding for why I feel like I feel.
I left it all on the field. That’s why I’m OK and not OK. I was all in. I wasn’t lost in him or his life. I just played with my whole heart. I gave him everything I’ve got. I always will.
As a mom of five boys, all of whom play sports, this analogy makes sense to me.
Leaving it all on the field doesn’t mean I played perfectly. I didn’t, not by any stretch. I dropped the ball a lot, even fumbled it at times. I’m OK with that. That’s part of the game. We make mistakes and ask for forgiveness and learn from the failure and get back in the game.
But sometimes I caught the ball, even got a first down. Occasionally I scored a touchdown. We were, and will remain, a great team.
When I’m tempted to ruminate on what I would have done differently as his mom, I will return to this idea that I left it all on the field.
This doesn’t mean my identity was tied up in being his mom. It wasn’t. My identity is in being an unconditionally loved child of God. I know that no child can or should carry the burden of being the place their parents find their value and worth.
This also doesn’t mean I needed him to succeed in school or sports because that meant I succeeded as a mom. His success, nor his struggles, are a statement about how well I did or didn’t do as a mom.
I know this: What I get right and what I get wrong does not determine who my child becomes. Yes, I play a vital role in his life. My words and actions matter greatly. But God’s sovereignty over my son’s life supersedes my significance in his life. What I’ve done is significant. But what God can do is supreme. And His wild grace covers us both!
Also, this is a team sport, so I can’t take any credit for my son’s strong character and humble confidence. His dad, his brothers, his grandparents and extended family, his coaches, our church community and close friends were all on the field too. And they were extraordinary.
But more than anything, God was our coach. He’s our leader and He held us together. And for all the things I got wrong, this is one thing I got right - I left it all on the field and I entrusted the outcome of our effort to God. I trusted God with the son He entrusted to me. God knows what my son needs in this next season. He loves my son in ways I can’t comprehend. He has a plan for my son that is better and bigger than what I often felt pressure to orchestrate for him.
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Friends who have gone before me in sending their kids to college have told me that, over time, releasing them gets easier, and the relationship gets better. That gives me hope! I’m choosing to believe they’re right as I grieve what’s gone.
I should also mention this isn’t my first college drop off. See, four years ago we welcomed a young man from Haiti into our family. He grew up at Danita’s Children’s Home in Haiti, and we’d gotten to know him through our many visits to the orphanage, so when he graduated from high school in Haiti, we brought him to the states, welcomed him into our family, and sent him to college.
A few hours after we began the long drive home from Auburn, my phone chimed with a text from a good friend. She knows me well, and she knew this day would not be easy. "How ya doing, mama?" I replied by explaining how my eyes were puffy and swollen since we’d said goodbye to our son just a few hours earlier. "I’m just going to miss him so much."
So, there was nobody to grieve and nothing to which we needed to say goodbye. My husband and I only felt anticipation for his future and gratitude for another wonderful son to love. Andre’s now preparing to graduate from Lipscomb University, and we are partnering with him to launch a nonprofit that will provide similar educational opportunities for his brothers and sisters still at the orphanage in Haiti. We couldn’t be prouder of the young man he’s become!
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So maybe I am ready, and this strange mix of happy/sad isn’t a bad thing.
I’m no longer on the field with my firstborn son, but I’ll be cheering wildly from the stands – and praying harder than ever – as he embarks on this journey. I’ll just be doing it with puffy swollen eyes for a while. I think that’s what’s supposed to happen when you leave it all on the field, which I still have the honor of doing with my three boys still at home.
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