By Abby McDonald 
A few weeks ago, I made a mistake no mother of a teenage driver wants to make: I watched from the window as my son drove away without his cell phone. He was halfway down the road, carefree and oblivious to my panic, when I realized my favorite tracking app was useless. In a split second, I realized the control I thought I had was gone.
In an attempt to calm myself, I remembered two things: 1. He was a good driver; and 2. He was just going to the gas station. While debating whether to jump in the car and race after him, God gently reminded me that my son didn’t travel alone.
This season of motherhood is stretching me in new ways as I navigate the tension of holding on and letting go. And right now, as my kids get older and more independent, there’s a lot more letting go than I’m comfortable with. My firstborn looks at college options, and I think, How did we get here? Did I do enough? Why is he looking at a college on the other side of the country? It seems like just yesterday, we were driving him home from the hospital while he slept in his infant car seat.
I want to grab time and freeze it, but realize I can’t. I can’t stop my kids from growing up. Even though I might cry over a sappy Pandora or senior photos, I wouldn’t want to stop their slow stride from babies to young adults. Even young adults who forget their cell phones. My pride swells as I watch my oldest reach toward goals I never dreamed possible at his age.
When the warm air turns brisk, and trees begin shedding their leaves, I return to a well-known passage from Ecclesiastes. It reminds me that there is a time and a season for everything. A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to be silent and a time to speak. (Ecclesiastes 3) Although these words are familiar to me, they prompt a revelation in my mama heart: There is a time to hold them tight and a time to let them go.
I can’t control what my oldest son’s life will look like in five years, but I can enjoy the time we have together right now. I can stop and look him in the eye. I can put down my phone when he’s talking to me and listen. Even when he decides to have a deep conversation way past this mama’s bedtime.
When you’re raising humans, you’re made painfully aware of the ticking clock. As the old adage goes, the days are slow, but the years are quick. I see countless articles written for moms about how to multiply their time and multitask. How to cook dinner in five minutes while answering work emails, and then get your kids to their practices on time.
But the longer I walk this road of motherhood, the more I see the truth: Perhaps the only way to truly multiply our time is to savor it.
As I learn to let each of my kids go, I can slow down and see the gifts right in front of me. Instead of trying to micromanage outcomes when my firstborn looks at colleges and plans for the future, I can trust God to work through the time we’ve spent together— the conversations shared, lessons learned, and memories made.
As I do this, my shoulders relax. I remember that He not only holds our days, but He is outside of time. He can do more with those moments than I ever could, if they’re surrendered to Him.
Time is all we have. It’s both a beautiful gift and a fleeting one. Let’s spend it savoring the things that matter most.
by Carolyn Moore 
by Melissa Jernigan 
by Sandy Brannan 
