By Kelly Jo Flaa 
Not gonna lie—I’m feeling a little lost.
My first baby graduated from high school yesterday. He did it! We did it. And with all my mama pride and joy came questions and self-doubt in abundance. Did I do enough? Does he know all he needs to know? What can I do to help him now that it is no longer my job to protect him?
That has been my cherished role for 18 years: Protector. But it’s mine no longer. How am I supposed to feel about this? I know how I feel: heartbroken. I still want that job. I don’t want him to “age out” of my services. I want to kiss the boo boos, be the constant source of inspiration, and promote growth within this greenhouse of love we call our family.
Today, I have to hand that job off (from my tightly clenched fists) to the Almighty God. Pretty good successor, I know, and in all reality, I was second in command as the Protector anyway. My son has been God’s from the very beginning, on loan to me—very lucky and blessed me.
What am I now? Maybe Guidance Counselor or Hype Woman? Advice Giver and Information Desk? One day, maybe, Confidant and Friend? For now, I will mourn that my contract is up for a job I have loved ever so much. In a way, I’ve dreaded this since the day he was born, knowing that he was mine to hold in my arms for a short time, but my heart will hold him forever.
But the truth is, he has outgrown this place. He doesn’t fit in high school anymore. His growth has exceeded the boundaries of childhood, like watching a reptile finally shed it’s constricting skin only to find that the layer beneath was already perfectly prepared for life ahead. Adulthood looks good on him and his broad shoulders are only a mere sign of the broadness of character within. Who is he? What will he do? Where will he go? All questions yet to be answered through time and choices – his choices.
Sara Groves has a line in one of her songs, Painting Pictures of Egypt, that has brought focus to many of my life’s transitions. It says:
“And the future feels so hard,
and I want to go back.
But the places that used to fit me,
cannot hold the things I’ve learned.
Those roads were closed off to me
while my back was turned.”
Friends, we are meant to move forward. Those old places and versions of us at “the beginning” are not the same. All that growth will be wasted if we try to cram ourselves into that old skin. It can’t hold all the ways in which we’ve grown and learned about ourselves and God. It simply doesn’t fit anymore.
Where does this leave me? In a puddle of tears, grasping at a past I can’t get back? No. I’ve never been one to shy away from change, however hard it may be. A new perspective is needed. I’ve decided to shed my sackcloth and ashes, and my black mourning clothes. I’m putting on a new, brightly colored, vivacious dress and finding a new outlook on this stage of life.
Some may say it’s likely an overly optimistic spin with a side of denial, and you’re not entirely wrong, but I think I’ll choose to view it this way: I have now been promoted! I may not be the Protector anymore, but I will ever be his Prayer Warrior, Loving Supporter, and Proud Mom.
Godspeed and many blessings, Kiddo. Bring on adulthood. I’ll be here for it.
by Sherry White 
by Colin Morris 
