Cole is in surgery right now as I type. We just walked down the long hallway as a family (Cole got to ride down in his bed) and then we stopped at the bubble wall. And then it happened… I had to let go.
Leaning in for one last hug, prayer and “Daddy loves you” is a moment any parent would want to hold on to forever. Literally and physically. But then the moment was over and I had to let go. We had reached the limitations of how far we could go with Cole. We stopped, let go and watched. He continued on. Rounding the next corner, he looked back with his sheepish smirk that I’ve grown to love.
Letting go isn’t easy, yet life is full of letting go moments. So now as I sit here in his pre-op room… in the silence I’m left with my thoughts, emotions and my faith. Writing is helpful for me in these moments. One, because I don’t want to forget them. But two, because it’s through the words of my heart that I gain a better perspective of the world around me.
Next to the letting go of a loved one at a funeral… watching a casket lowered into the earth, for a parent, the letting go of watching your child as they are wheeled back to an operating room is probably the next most difficult letting go moment in life. Because its in the moments that follow that you realize just how powerless you really are.
But thankfully, as a believer, that’s where we realize that whatever or whomever we are letting go of is really an eye-opening reality to what we then can hold on to. So as I sit here praying, I may have let go of my son’s hand, but I’m powerfully reminded that I’m holding on to the hand of God. Or better said, He is holding on to me. Isaiah 41:13 remind me, “For I hold you by your right hand–I, the LORD your God. And I say to you, ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.” Words of life. Words my soul can rest in right now. Even when I’m called to let go, God never lets go.
What security we have in our relationship with God. Through His amazing grace and awesome power we are reminded in John 10:28, “…and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” I am loved. I am secure.
And that’s why I can let go… in all areas, but even with my son right now. Because He has a loving Heavenly Father that is still holding on. And despite my love for him, there isn’t anyone else I would want holding on to Him in this moment.
So right now I have let go. But I’ve let go to a God who never lets go. And I can cry out in prayer right now knowing that He hears and He answers according to His good will and pleasure.
And thank you, again, for praying with us right now. We anticipate the surgery will last about and hour and then recovery another hour after that. And then I’ll hold Cole’s hand again. And then we’ll update you as we know more later. In the mean time, I’m thankful that in the letting go… I am held. And in the letting go… I learn and experience more of the strong, love of God for me… the One who never lets go.