Skip to main content

Holding on to a kid for dear life

Maybe you know this. Maybe you've done it. But if you haven't...

As parents, we know that someday, we must let go of our kids. They have to grow up. You relish those moments of cuddling them after a bath, of snuggling on the couch on a rainy day, of watching them learn a new skill.

But that moment when  you have to let go? We'd rather not.

Maybe it happens when  you drop them off at college that first time. Or that first time you hand them the keys to the car. Or when they get their first real job.

Maybe it's when they tell you (in utter sincerity) that they've learned a lesson you've put before them all their life, but NOW, it finally makes sense.

Sometimes, the letting go is not a happy one. It is not because they have reached a new height, or have grown up, matured. No, this letting go is ugly and sad and harder than anything you've ever done.

This letting go is because your child has made horrible choices. It's drugs or alcohol or the addictive behavior that goes along with it. You have to let go because you cannot support them or their habit. You cannot drag the rest of the family down.

You have to give the child a choice: get clean, learn a new way of living or ... you have to go.

Other parents will tell you how despicable you are for not supporting your child. People will see your kid and thank God that they are not you - for you must be a terrible parent for having a kid that has turned out this way. As a parent, you are a pariah, an anathema. You are at fault. For the other parents, it is inconceivable that their child might choose the same path, so it must be the parents' fault. It is the only way they can justify their damning of you.

Your child is a mess. They lie and steal and deny. You no longer talk to them: you talk to the drugs or the alcohol. You offer food, but not money. You will buy them clothes, but won't give them cash. You know all too well what that money would go for.

Is it love to treat your child like this? Or is it love to not have turned them out? You will be judged. You will be seen as the worst of parents - you "don't support your child." You have to carry that weight.

Your child to will curse you. He will judge you, say hateful things to you. You must wipe the spittle from  your face.

You have to let go.

What no one sees, of course, is that you are holding that child so tightly in prayer. You do not turn them out - you turn them over to God. You beg our Blessed Mother to protect that child. Your knees bleed because you are on them so much. You know, in a very small way, the sword that has pierced Our Mother's heart.

No, you have not let that child go. You are clinging to them in prayer, in supplication, in petition. You will never let them go.

Comments

  1. Oh, I have been there. It took 20 years, but I got him back, older and a lot wiser. He slept in cars and on park benches. He did the whole Prodigal Son thing. He's still not in His Father's House, but he understands why we turned him out, and he loves me more than he ever did, and I love him, too. Always, my prayers are with you. ~ Rosemary A. in Hamilton, Ohio.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

I love comments, even if you don't agree, but please don't leave anonymous posts. A well-mannered reader leaves a name!

Popular posts from this blog

So close to Jesus

This past Sunday, at Mass, Dear Husband and I had the great good fortune of having a dad, toddler and infant sit next to us in the front pew.

"Good fortune?" you say. Sounds horrible. Kids are so distracting. Put 'em in the nursery.

Nope. We sit up in the front pew, and always invite parents with young kids to come and sit with us. Having raised 5 hyper kids, we can pretty much ignore anything, plus kids do much better when they can see what's going on.

I have to admit, I wanted the toddler to act up a bit so I could whisper to the dad, "I'll watch the baby if you have to take him out."

Instead, we saw something rather remarkable.

Oh, the toddler (not quite 2) was a toddler. He was a bit anty. He wasn't quite sure that he liked seeing his mommy in front, cantoring, where he couldn't get to her. He whined and fussed a bit.

But during the Consecration, his enormous blue eyes locked onto the priest. That baby boy saw Jesus up there. You could just…

Fading Into Friday

It's been a long week. Monday was just ... bad. I ticked off our IT guy at work by opening up one of those d*%$ emails that as soon as you click on it, you think, "Oops." So I trotted over to his office, and he promptly yelled at me. Like I was a child. Or stupid. Or a stupid child.

This was after I found out that every imaginable driving route from my home to office and back home again is under construction. Can't get there from her. Orange barrels. Must as well sleep in the office.
This, combined with the fact that I am now the ONLY person on the planet who stills checks their blind spot before changing lanes, makes me want to quit my job and go live in a yurt.

Our health insurance company sent us these gloom and doom letters that Dear Hubby and I HAD to go online and fill out a health assessment NOW or OUR INSURANCE WOULD BE CANCELLED!!! They were SERIOUS! So, I went online Wednesday. Their system was down for maintenance.

Tried again yesterday. I swear I could n…

If you're ill, don't shy away from God.

There was a time when lepers had to carry bells and loudly announce their presence, so that the "clean" people would have time to seek shelter from them.

Illnesses were blamed in parental sins, or even farther back the family chain. When the AIDS epidemic first struck in the 1980s, they were those who were convinced that this was God's way of dealing out "justice" to homosexuals.

Illness can sometimes seem like an additional cross from God: "Great, I just started a new job, and the kids have different schools this year, and I haven' even thought about a summer vacation and sorry, what's that? Lupus. No. No, you don't understand, I don't have time for that.,,,,

That may be true. YOU don't. But GOD does. For whatever He also int our lives is good and life-giving. Facing any serious illness, chronic or life-threatening, is not something anyone puts on their calendar. It can also make things very difficult to explain to people.

Oh, people …