Knocked to the Ground, by a Feather

Really Ready and Letting Go ...

Ruminating with each turn of my bicycle wheels, I pictured the many moments my son would

need me, and I wouldn’t be there for him. He was preparing to leave the safety of the nest, the

nest that I built with everything I had, and move five states south to finish college.

Yes, he was legally an adult, but I wasn’t ready to kick him out nor untie my apron strings. What

if he gets sick, or in an accident, or has heat stroke, or strep throat, or makes bad decisions. I

wouldn’t have my eyes on him to make sure he was ok, nor be able to drive down the street to

rescue him if he needed.



I don’t know if children are ever really ready to be on their own. Or is it that some parents aren’t

really ready to let go. I stand in that parental group. When our oldest sons left for college, I

immediately listed everything I hadn’t taught them. Did they know to wash chicken before

cooking it? We didn’t discuss financial responsibility or car maintenance. On the plus side, they

did know how to wash their own clothes. They learned that skill when I couldn’t keep up with

the laundry for six people, four of whom played sports with lots of dirt. My husband learned it

quickly when he questioned how I did the laundry. My answer, “Do it yourself!” My laziness to

keep up with chores and my feminist attitude saved me from doing anyone else’s laundry ever

again.

As a family, we got through each day. I fed and loved them, made sure they kept their

commitments to school, sports, and church, and provided them with clothing and shelter. What

else did we have time for? The older ones survived and learned more on their own than I could

ever teach in their 18 years under my roof.

But when my youngest son was ready to fly, all my shortcomings as a mother came rushing to

the forefront, reminding me of how I didn’t take enough time to teach him everything necessary

to live without me being within arm’s reach.

That morning while biking and counting what I hadn’t done and what he still needed to learn, I

stopped for a water break. The sun was shining. It was a perfect Saturday morning with blue

skies begging me to look up. I did. Caribbean blue above me! Then I looked down as I returned

my water bottle to its metal cage, and there on the black asphalt, beside my tennis shoe, I saw a

feather. A long black and tan feather. As soon as I saw it, I heard the Holy Spirit whispering to

let my son fly. The Divine cares for and takes care of the birds and lilies, and of course God will

take care of my precious child.

I felt a hint of relief and a little nudge to release him to the world. I had to let him go. I had to

trust him, and trust in the One who created him, who is ever present, within reach, keeping watch

with a protective band of angels hovering where I can’t.

A short three years later, when it was time for my one and only daughter to fly the coop, all the

same worries, fears, and “what ifs” filled my head again. How quickly I forgot that my sons were

quite capable without me. But this was my little girl, moving to a “party school” five hours away.

It was within a reasonable driving distance, but still! I didn’t know if she was a street-smart

young woman, and there was so much more we needed to teach a daughter regarding the ways of

the outside world. I couldn’t cover all the topics if we lived a lifetime under one roof!

Wouldn’t you know, upon returning from a run on yet another fabulous Saturday morning, I

looked down at the front door and there it was … the smallest blue and grey feather, the size of a

baby bluejay. Hmm….my baby girl. I had to let her go too.



Again, our loving God, through a delicately formed angel wing, gently reminded me, “It’s okay,

Momma bird. She will fly and I will surround her with love, protection, direction, and wisdom.”

I hold onto that holy comforting promise from Psalm 91:4, “God will cover you with his feathers

and under those wings you will be protected, God’s faithfulness is a shield…” Amen sister!