Letting Go
by Seneca Moraleda-Puguan
“I’ll miss you mom!”With a kiss on my cheeks and a hug so tight, these were the sweet words uttered by my four-year-old boy, Yohan, as I put on his clothes for a milestone in his life: his first day in a big school as a kindergartener.
He went to his dad and did the same. My heart melted and my eyes teared up. He had been excited about the thought of making new friends since we arrived in Switzerland. He couldn’t wait for his new adventure! The day before, we also sent off his older sister, Callie, to a traditional school as a second grader. What a thrilling moment, not just for our children, but for me and John, as their parents.
We have been homeschooling Callie, with Yohan as her playmate, for the past three years. We would pray, read the Bible, dance, and sing together.
I would tell them stories and hear their thoughts. We would go explore nature and learn about the world as a family.
We loved homeschooling and it had brought us closer as one unit. But our move to Switzerland changed our everyday routine and our plans of homeschooling our children until they finished their primary years.
Education in Switzerland is obligatory, free, and open to all children. Homeschooling is permitted but with restrictions and regulations.
We opted to take advantage of the free education Switzerland offers so that Callie and Yohan will be able to learn French and German, and build wonderful relationships with the locals, which we were not able to do when we were in South Korea.
This decision was a big adjustment for our family but we knew that it would be for their good, and for mine too.
On the day we walked Callie to her new school, I felt nothing but excitement for my little daughter.
Our princess enjoys reading books. She loves discovering things. She is hungry to learn new things.
Releasing her to a big school and the real world was relatively easy for me. She’s responsible, mature, and independent.
We were confident that she would do great in a traditional school because we prepared her at home. My heart felt at peace when we kissed her goodbye.
Letting go of our little boy, on the other hand, was a different story. Days before his first day of school, my mind’s been filled with anxious thoughts and my heart felt uneasy.
Yohan is very playful, tends to be impatient, possessive of his things, and still depends a lot on his mom.
Will he be okay in school? What if he throws tantrums? What if he gets into a fight? Will he respond gently when threatened? Will he treat others with kindness?
But when we met his teacher, Yohan held on to her hand and smiled at me, it was as if he was telling me, “I can do this Mom!” I was assured he’ll be okay.
As I walked home, with Callie and Yohan safe in their classrooms, my heart wanted to burst. Tears were ready to flow from my eyes but only when I reached home did, they fall.
I sat down for a long time, looked outside our window, and talked to God. A small but powerful bird passed by, flapping his wings across the sky.
There, God spoke to my heart, “It’s time to let go, my daughter. It’s time for Yohan to flap his wings. Let him fly!”
For several years, my children were with me 24/7. I can only count the hours I was away from them.
I got so used to their voices–laughing, shouting, bickering at each other, always calling my name–that the thought of being alone and hearing nothing but the cooing of the birds outside our window felt new and strange.
The quietness was refreshing, but deafening. On that day, l entered a new season of navigating what to do being alone, embracing freedom for a few hours, and enjoying “me time” even for just a while.
As I went on to do my chores, I found myself bursting into tears now and then. I was so happy for my children but at the same time, I missed them.
When they went back home, telling me eagerly and excitedly all the things they did, the new lessons they learned, and the new friends they made.
I knew in my heart they will do great. Callie will shine. Yohan will fly.
Letting go is never easy. It’s terrifying. It sometimes hurts. But it is inevitable. In life, we will let go of many things.
For me, it’s letting go of my children from my sight, my protection, my guidance and turning them over to their teachers.
Maybe for you, it’s something deeper and greater–your dreams or relationships, or maybe your past hurts, present comforts and future expectations.
But grace is always available. The hope for better things is promised. My son said, “I’ll miss you, Mom!” It broke and melted my heart big time. But my response was this, “Fly high, my little one!”This is my prayer for you, too. As you let go, may it catapult you to greater heights. Soar high!
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