When You Can't Protect Them From Everything

Today my oldest starts a new school year.

She went to bed last night with her outfit already laid out, her alarm set, and that unmistakable mix of excitement and nerves that comes with a new beginning.

She is ready.

Or at least, as ready as a kid can be.

And while I'm so excited for her, I'll be honest...

My mama heart is a little anxious.

I think most moms understand this feeling. We want our kids to have the best day. We want them to walk into their classroom feeling confident and excited. We want them to be kind to others. And more than anything, we want other kids to be kind to them.

We want them to find good friends, have teachers who see them, and come home with stories about all the wonderful things that happened that day.

But underneath all of that excitement is a worry that is hard to put into words. Because as moms, we have this incredible pull to protect our children. We want to protect them from disappointment. From rejection. From loneliness. From the words someone might say that stick with them longer than they should. From friendships that hurt. From failures. From the moments that make them question themselves. We want to step in before the hurt ever reaches them, but we can't.

That's one of the hardest parts of motherhood. We can pack the lunches. Lay out the clothes. Give them one more hug before they walk through the doors. We can remind them to be kind, to include others, to stand up for what is right, and to come talk to us when something doesn't feel right. Eventually though, we have to let go. Not because we don't care. Because we love them enough to let them grow.

That means trusting God with the parts of their lives that we can't control. I've had to remind myself today that my daughter is never walking into that school building alone.

God is already there.

He will be with her in the classroom. He will be with her on the playground. He will be with her when she laughs with her friends. And He will be with her on the days when she comes home with tears in her eyes. He will be there in the moments I wish I could prevent and in the moments I don't even know are happening.

That doesn't mean I won't worry. Because I'm her mom and I probably will, but I don't have to let my worry become bigger than my trust. I can pray over her instead of trying to control every outcome. I can teach her to be kind while reminding her that her worth isn't determined by how others treat her. I can teach her that it's okay to be nervous, okay to make mistakes, okay to ask for help, and okay to walk away from people who aren't treating her with kindness. When those inevitable hard moments come—and they will—I can remind her that hard moments don't have to define her.

Maybe that's part of growing up, and maybe it's part of being a mom, too. Learning when to hold their hand and learning when to let go. So today, I'm going to let myself feel the nerves. I'm going to celebrate her excitement. I'm going to pray a little harder, and I'm going to trust a little deeper.

Because I can't protect my children from every hurt this world will bring. But I can teach them where to turn when the hurt comes. And I can trust that the same God who has carried me through some of the hardest seasons of my life will carry my girls through theirs.

"For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." — Psalm 91:11

So here's to a new school year. New classrooms. New friendships. New lessons. New adventures, and a mama learning, once again, that sometimes the bravest thing I can do is loosen my grip, lift my hands in prayer, and trust God with the children He entrusted to me.