Now you can enjoy listening to Fox News articles! The moment had finally arrived when I had to say goodbye to my firstborn as he headed off to college. Throughout his senior year, I had been collecting kisses from him. Every time he passed through the kitchen on his way to school or returned from practice, I would ask him to give me an extra kiss on the forehead or cheek. I hoped that these kisses would provide solace once he was gone. I believed I was prepared for his departure because he was ready. It felt reassuring to witness my son, who I had brought into this world, step into the next phase of his life with a strong sense of self and a solid foundation. He was prepared.
However, it has been three days since we tearfully hugged him goodbye in front of his dormitory, and my face has been constantly wet with tears. I wasn’t prepared for this. Sending a child off to college for the first time evokes a bittersweet mixture of pride and sadness in many mothers. It’s an indescribable feeling that no one can truly prepare you for. Even a year filled with extra kisses couldn’t hold back the tears. It’s strange to experience such conflicting emotions all at once – excitement, grief, happiness, loss, pain, pride, peace, the longing for more time, and anticipation for the future. These emotions make me feel both okay and not okay simultaneously.
I’m grateful that we have complete peace of mind about the university he has chosen to attend for the next four (or possibly five) years. He is now an Auburn man, and we couldn’t be prouder of the person he has become. However, gosh, I’m going to miss having him around on a daily basis! I believe that’s the main source of my pain – the constant presence he provided. I will miss the daily texts, discussing simple things like “When will you be home from practice?” or “What should we have for dinner?” I will miss the snippets of his day that he would share when he collapsed on the couch after a long day. I will miss the relief I felt when he pulled into the driveway, knowing he made it home safely. Oh, how I will miss his warm nightly “I love you, mama” as I headed to bed long before him.
I will deeply miss all of this while also eagerly anticipating what lies ahead for him. Now we have the privilege of witnessing him navigate young adulthood, pursue his passions, and find purpose and meaning using the seeds we have planted and the tools we have provided.
A few hours into the long drive back home from Auburn, I received a text from a close friend who understood the difficulty of the day. She asked, “How are you doing, mama?” I explained how my eyes were puffy and swollen from saying goodbye to our son just a few hours earlier. I expressed, “I’m just going to miss him so much.” Her response was simple yet profound: “You left it all on the field!” With that one sentence, she not only comforted me in my grief but also helped me comprehend my own emotions.
Indeed, I had left it all on the field. That’s why I feel both okay and not okay. I gave everything I had. I played the role of a mother with my whole heart. I dedicated myself entirely to him. And I always will. As a mother of five boys, all of whom play sports, I understand this analogy. Leaving it all on the field doesn’t mean I played flawlessly; I made mistakes, dropped the ball, and fumbled at times. And that’s okay because that’s part of the game. We learn from failures, seek forgiveness, and get back in the game. However, there were also moments when I caught the ball, moved forward, and even scored touchdowns. We were, and will always be, an extraordinary team.
When I find myself dwelling on what I could have done differently as a mother, I will return to the idea that I left it all on the field. This doesn’t mean my identity was solely tied to being his mother. It wasn’t. My identity lies in being unconditionally loved by God. I understand that a child should not carry the burden of determining their parents’ value and worth. Furthermore, my child’s success or struggles do not define my capability as a mother. I know this: my flaws and achievements do not shape who my child becomes. Yes, I play an important role in his life, and my words and actions hold weight. But God’s sovereignty over his life surpasses my significance. What I have done is significant, but what God can do is superior. His overwhelming grace covers both me and my child.
Additionally, raising a child is a collective effort. I cannot take sole credit for my son’s strong character and humble confidence. His dad, brothers, grandparents, extended family, coaches, our church community, and close friends also played crucial roles. Most importantly, God was our coach. He led us and held us together. Despite my mistakes, I did get one thing right – I left it all on the field, and I entrusted the outcome to God. I trusted Him with the son He entrusted to me. God understands what my son needs in this next phase of life. He loves my son in ways I cannot comprehend. He has a plan for my son that is greater and grander than what I felt pressured to orchestrate.
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