here comes a season in parenting when we realize it’s time to begin letting go. It might be when a child graduates from high school or college, gets married, or takes a job that carries them far from home. For some, it’s the quiet letting go that happens when we allow our children to test their own paths — even if that path leads them to discover the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.
At some point, I’m learning, we must release them. They need to forge their own way. And let’s be honest: No mother joyfully lets go. The parting can feel like heartstrings being severed — threads tied and retied through the years in moments both ordinary and sacred. There’s a tension, sometimes even a tearing, and eventually, a release. For some, that release is painful. For others, it brings healing. For most of us, it’s both.
Lately, I’ve found myself returning again and again to the passage in Luke’s Gospel when Mary and Joseph take 12-year-old Jesus to Jerusalem for Passover. We often refer to this as the Presentation in the Temple. As was customary, they traveled with family in a caravan. But days into the return journey, they realize Jesus isn’t with them.
Can you imagine the aching in Mary’s mother-heart? Or the urgency in Joseph’s father-heart? They retrace their steps, and when they find Jesus in the temple, Scripture tells us He was sitting among the teachers, listening and asking questions, and “all who heard Him were amazed at His understanding and His answers” (Luke 2:46-47).
This passage has been stirring in me. The losing and the finding — it’s part of our journey as parents. Perhaps this scripture is reminding us that it’s always been so. As parents, we bring our children into the world, but eventually, they must bring themselves into adulthood. We can’t do it for them.
I found myself praying the rosary recently, and these final two Joyful Mysteries — the Finding in the Temple and the Presentation — tugged at my heart as I pondered how to let my children grow into the adults they are called to be while still remaining present to them. I don’t have answers. But I do find comfort in knowing that even Mary didn’t choose to lose Jesus. And yet, I imagine her joy and relief upon finding Him were almost too great to contain.
Maybe that’s where we, as parents, are called to rest — in that sacred tension of letting go and trusting the finding. Even when our children feel “lost” to us, or even when the letting go feels too heavy to bear, we remember that God’s plan is greater than our vision or understanding. We spend so much time preparing the way, trying to stage-manage their steps. But maybe God simply smiles, waiting patiently for us to surrender all of it — our plans, our fears, our control.
Scripture tells us there is a season for everything — a time to gather and a time to release. I am in a season of releasing. But I trust there will be a season of gathering too. And perhaps in my letting go, the Lord is finally able to gather them more fully into His own heart. Isn’t that the hope of every parent?
As I reflect on this mystery, I smile at the line: “All were amazed at His wisdom.” Perhaps by allowing our children the space to grow, we are also allowing the world to witness their light. So many of us are amazed by the gifts our children carry. What a joy to watch those gifts blossom beyond our arms, for others to see and be blessed by.
Some children ask to go. Some demand it. And others drift. The story of the Prodigal Son reminds us of the deep courage it takes to let go — and the trust that those seeds we’ve planted, seeds of identity and worth, are still there, waiting to bloom in time, even if we’re not there to see it. God is at work, even in the silence.
The Finding in the Temple feels like a key to this season. I can close my eyes and envision moments for each of my children — those sacred, shining times when they will be “found.” When they will recognize their gifts and begin to live from that place, as Jesus did in the temple. What a beautiful moment to hold onto, especially on the hard days. I imagine the comfort that moment gave Mary, the reassurance that her Son was exactly where He needed to be.
Letting our children go is an offering. A holy one. And this season, this season of losing and finding, it doesn’t follow a schedule. We don’t know how long it will last for us or for them. But rooting ourselves in prayer, in the life we are called to live, and in the constant rhythm of gratitude, it strengthens us. It reminds us that our children belong to God first. Always have.
May Mother Mary, St. Monica, and all the holy parents who have gone before us intercede for us, strengthen us, and walk beside us as we continue this sacred vocation of parenting.
This article also appeared at the Columbus Times.
