You've Held Her Long Enough

I knew for awhile that the tightness in my collarbone was telling me something. It was sore, fatigued, and wasn't just because I'd slept wrong. As I closed my eyes, placed my hand on my collarbone and focused on my breath, an image of holding a baby up on my shoulder filled my mind. Like the feeling the next morning after you've been up half the night with a fussy baby, bouncing and holding her against your shoulder.

As I rested my hand there the image came first, then the words: put that little girl down, she's ready to run on her own. You've held her long enough. Let her go, let her be free.

That little girl was me.

I'd been so focused on learning to love her, focused on carrying her through, making sure she felt safe and loved.

It never occurred to me that eventually I'd have to let her go, too.

So I set her down, she's about three years old now, and she turns around and spreads her arms out wide. She looks back at me the way only a child can, with mischief and joy and freedom burning like fire in her eyes. There's a passion and tenacity in her that you cannot possibly miss. She's a spicy one, that one.

And so, with total joy and freedom she beckons without a word. It's not quite taunting, more luring and daring me to follow her.

"Let's go on this adventure together!"

Today, I let that little girl go. I had held her long enough. Now, she and I both know that she is loved, and safe, and free. She has more to teach me than I could possibly teach her, and I cannot wait to see who she becomes.

I stood there watching her with a heart full of pride. If I'd had the words, I would have said, "Thanks, sweet girl, for teaching me how to love us both."