Creator God, who parents us all,
hold my heart as I practice letting go,
hold this child as the school day begins.
There was a time when I celebrated
each small milestone, witnessing steps
as they were taken. Yet now I watch
those same sweet legs walking away from me
and I feel, at my best, an urge to slow
down time; at my worst, a fearful grasping
for control.
May this bittersweet pang point me toward
a deeper truth, where each small goodbye—
be it silly or tense, tired or tender—is a chance
to give thanks for the gift of this child,
and to remember that they are neither
my possession nor my identity.
I am not the author of their story, Lord.
You are.
I am not their ultimate protector, Lord.
You are.
This is both a relief and a surrender,
as I release the prideful notion
that my proximity secures their safety.
I have no shield with which to guard them,
but your unending faithfulness;
no comfort to console them,
but your transcendent peace;
no assurance to offer them,
but your perfect love.
Creator God, who parents us all,
hold my heart as I practice letting go;
hold this child as a school day begins,
In Jesus name, Amen.
From Every Moment Holy, “A Liturgy for Dropping a Child at School,” Alli R. Dahlgren