Standing on the edge of the platform, I started questioning my sanity of vowing to myself that I would do the things that scared me at family camp.  Up to that point, it had involved being drug behind a boat on a banana boat (yep, boating still makes my motion sickness horrible).  That day, it was the zip line. I had successfully made it 39 years without doing it, but it’s one of those things that has always intrigued me… and I had let fear stop me.  I want to raise kids that don’t let fear paralyze them at every turn, like it has their momma. The only way I can TRULY teach that to them is to let them watch me overcome it.  So here we are, zip lining as a family.

My sweet middle child opted out, but she had already zip lined earlier in the day.  So… back to the platform.  My oldest zipped down, laughing the whole way.  Next, the hubs went. Our next to youngest was next, hooting and hollering.  Then came my son.  He had warned me that he would try to back out, that it would take him about 3-5 minutes to be convinced, but that he really wanted to do it.  He followed through on his word, lol. I urged him to be brave, reminded him that he had loved it earlier, encouraged him that his momma was going to do to this scary thing and that his baby sister was watching to see him be brave.  I also gave him permission to not do the thing if he really didn’t want to. In the end, he leapt off that ledge and proceeded to trek back up the hill to do it all over again.  Then it was my baby’s turn.  My sweet Jojo.  My 4 year old.

Suddenly I panicked.  What if she really was too tiny for this harness.  That platform wasn’t tall enough, no way could they reach the pulley to get her attached.  The counselor running the zip line was having to hold her at the very edge of the platform as he attached her.  What if he did it wrong?  What if he dropped her or fell while he was attaching her?  This is it, I have lost my dang mind.  What mother in her right mind would allow her precious baby to leap off of a platform (to certain death is what my brain is now saying)?  A terrible mom, that’s who.  All of a sudden the only logical step seemed to be telling her that we weren’t doing it.  That we were going back to the safety of solid ground.  “I’m sorry baby, I know you want to fly, but your momma wants you safe and sound on solid ground.”  Gasp.  That’s it.  My fear would keep her from flying.  MY fear.  Not hers.  That’s not how my kids lives are going to go.  My fear has already kept me from flying for far too long, no way will I allow it to keep them from spreading their wings.  I felt God whisper to me, you can trust me with her.  So I decided to choke down the fear and let her go.  Of course, Jojo had zero clue all that was flooding through her momma’s mind at that moment.  I smiled at her and said, “you ready??” She nodded and away she went.  Giggling the whole way down.  I cannot properly explain the amount of faith it took for me to let her go, but I just knew God was using this moment to teach me and that it was a moment I would likely remember forever.  My turn was next.  Honestly, I didn’t even hesitate.  I had already had to overcome my fear of the moment.  My fear of trusting my baby to the unknown.  It was suddenly less scary for me to do the same thing.

Yes, I know that I am two feet off of the ground here… It’s at the very end… 

That night at our parent speaker session, we listened to an interview with our speaker Lloyd Shadrach and his twenty-something year old son.  It was a very raw, vulnerable interview where his son was admitting to living a lot of life.  There was a moment where he was talking about telling his dad everything he had been doing.  Not apologetic just honest and his dad’s response was “I’m trusting God with you.  He’s got you.”  It’s possible I’ve botched the wording, but that was the essence of it (now know that this father and son have one of the most loving, genuine relationships I’ve ever witnessed. He was NOT turning his back on his son, he just wasn’t trying to control him). I was covered in goosebumps and immediately started thinking back to this moment of trusting Jojo to God as she leapt over the edge.  That was just one of many times and likely one of the least scary times that I’m going to have to trust my kiddos in His hands.  We talked often that week about how our tendency when we start fearing for our children is to tighten our grip.  Guilty.  Of course, there are times it is wise, but there are also times where I know that I’m parenting out of fear in that moment.  That is not how I want to live.  I don’t want to hold my kids back just because I am scared of the unknown.  I don’t know the future.  It’s totally possible that immense heartache lies ahead of us.  It’s also possible that it doesn’t.  Regardless of which path is true, my fear and desire for control will do nothing but make me a miserable momma and keep my kids from living their lives to the fullest.  I pray that if the day comes that one or more of my children is coming to me either admitting to a lot of hurt or wanting to go on a big, scary adventure that this momma will be able to say “I’m trusting God with you” and actually do it, while loving them more than they can imagine the entire way…