Love is proved in letting go
February 5th 2008 21:32
I am sitting here at my laptop biting my fingernails. I am, I realize, experiencing a milestone moment and all I have to mark it is this anxious twitch in my belly as I keep on looking up from my laptop to see if I can see my ten year old daughter returning from her VERY FIRST foray to the shops ALL ON HER OWN.
Ok, she’s nearly eleven. And she’s very responsible, being school captain ‘n all. And she thinks I’m over-protective. Which I am. But she’s MY daughter. I only have two kids and I’m not about to gamble with them. Kids don’t get that. How precious they are to their parents.
‘Don’t you trust me?’ she says in exasperation.
How do I explain to her that it’s not her I don’t trust. It’s Them. Those perverts, bad drivers, and pedophiles out there who don’t value her life as I do. Kids go missing all the time. Madeline McCan is just one very horrible publicized example, eclipsing the reality that thousands of children go missing each year. I figure if I can just SEE my kids, I can protect them. At some point I am going to have to hand that job over to God. Approximately now. I appreciate this takes a massive leap of faith and possibly a tranquilizer.
So I’ve sent my baby off with my mobile phone (she HATES it when I call her my 'baby'). And very strict instructions about the route to avoid busy roads. She set off with such a stride in her step it almost made me choke to realize how little she needs me. I remember that very feeling, having just gotten my drivers licence and being alone in a car for the very first time. It was heaven, that independence. I imagine she’s feeling that very sensation right now: ‘Ah, freedom…’
C Day Lewis wrote a poem called ‘Walking Away’ about his first born son Sean’s first day at school, in which he writes:
‘I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show
How selfhood begins with a walking away
And love is proved in the letting go.’
She returns striding across the field. She takes out my mobile phone to call me to let me know she is back safely and so that I can come down and help her cross this crazy busy road in front of our apartment block (okay, I still have some work to do). She looks more grown-up than I remember. There’s a distinct swagger in those hips which are not quite little girl. And I have to fight the tears that well up in me and muffle my deepest instincts to shelter her so that I can muster the courage to release her into herself, into the undeniable woman she is becoming.
www.joannefedler.com
Ok, she’s nearly eleven. And she’s very responsible, being school captain ‘n all. And she thinks I’m over-protective. Which I am. But she’s MY daughter. I only have two kids and I’m not about to gamble with them. Kids don’t get that. How precious they are to their parents.
‘Don’t you trust me?’ she says in exasperation.
How do I explain to her that it’s not her I don’t trust. It’s Them. Those perverts, bad drivers, and pedophiles out there who don’t value her life as I do. Kids go missing all the time. Madeline McCan is just one very horrible publicized example, eclipsing the reality that thousands of children go missing each year. I figure if I can just SEE my kids, I can protect them. At some point I am going to have to hand that job over to God. Approximately now. I appreciate this takes a massive leap of faith and possibly a tranquilizer.
So I’ve sent my baby off with my mobile phone (she HATES it when I call her my 'baby'). And very strict instructions about the route to avoid busy roads. She set off with such a stride in her step it almost made me choke to realize how little she needs me. I remember that very feeling, having just gotten my drivers licence and being alone in a car for the very first time. It was heaven, that independence. I imagine she’s feeling that very sensation right now: ‘Ah, freedom…’
C Day Lewis wrote a poem called ‘Walking Away’ about his first born son Sean’s first day at school, in which he writes:
‘I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show
How selfhood begins with a walking away
And love is proved in the letting go.’
She returns striding across the field. She takes out my mobile phone to call me to let me know she is back safely and so that I can come down and help her cross this crazy busy road in front of our apartment block (okay, I still have some work to do). She looks more grown-up than I remember. There’s a distinct swagger in those hips which are not quite little girl. And I have to fight the tears that well up in me and muffle my deepest instincts to shelter her so that I can muster the courage to release her into herself, into the undeniable woman she is becoming.
www.joannefedler.com
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Comment by AmyHuang
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Comment by katyzzz
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You penned your words so eloquently, unfortunately there's not a lot, as parents, we can do.
Society has gone mad.
Love to you and yours.
katyzzz
Comment by Lilla
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My advice?
Don;t tempt fate again, wait until she is 16 and even then keep an eye out. You do not have to be popular here.
There is no way I would let my 11-12 year old go to the shop alone... out of my sight... not today, not in the world we live in anymore. I don;t care what she thinks... anyway she knows not even to ask.
At least we have mobile phones, imagine our parents without them... but then the world was safer back then too.
Just my honest reaction to your (well written) post...
Lilla ...
Comment by Michaelie
Flick Wit
But you know your daughter. You know what's best for her and what she can handle. The gradual move to independence is a bit of a battle, but I'm sure you are using sound judgement.
As the first-born, I was probably always 'protected' (it felt more like stifled at times though I see the wisdom of it now) until I was eleven, which is when I left my private Catholic school and started highschool. Then I was allowed to go shopping and to the pool, etc with my friends. I always got a lecture first, so I felt more than prepared for venturing out, but I do think doing those kinds of things by myself was very important.
Don't worry too much, I'm sure you have a daughter with a good head on her shoulders. She is school captian after all.
Michaelie
Comment by Anonymous