One of my hardest lessons of motherhood.

Amy Loflin
Jun 1
2 min read

Updated: Jul 26

My husband has a small hydroponic garden setup inside our home where he carefully tends tiny seedlings under controlled conditions. The lighting is intentional. The temperature is monitored. The water and nutrients are measured with precision. He is able to set his seeds up for success in an environment that is safe, predictable, and protected.

And for a while, that setting is exactly what the plants need. But eventually, there comes a day when the seedlings can no longer stay there.

No matter how healthy they look under the grow lights, they were never meant to spend their entire lives in carefully managed conditions. So one by one, he carries them outside and plants them in our garden. And suddenly, there are variables Chad cannot control.

Unexpected storms. Heavy winds. Intense heat or a surprise frost. Too much rain or not enough rain. Pests, wildlife, and weeds.

As I’ve watched my farmer in process, I’m reminded of my current season of motherhood. Our youngest son recently graduated from college and is walking through the interview process for a potential job opportunity. And if I’m honest, there have been moments where every maternal instinct in me wanted to step in. To manage. To advise. To smooth the path a bit.

But I’m realizing that part of raising young adults is accepting that there comes a point when we cannot keep them under the grow lights.

As mothers, we spend years creating environments that nurture growth. We protect and guide. Teach, encourage, and support. We help build roots deep enough to sustain them.

But adulthood introduces variables we can no longer control. And perhaps one of the hardest and holiest transitions of motherhood is learning to trust God in the open-air garden our young adults now reside.

To trust that He is present in the storms we cannot shield them from.

Present in the waiting seasons.

Present in the disappointments, opportunities, setbacks, relationships, and decisions that begin shaping their lives in ways we no longer manage ourselves.

I think many of us assume faith-filled motherhood means holding on tightly. But maybe, in some seasons, faith looks more like slowly loosening our grip while deepening our trust. Not because we care less. But because we are learning that God cares for them even more deeply than we do.

And perhaps this is true not only for our children, but for us too. Maybe some of us are exhausted because we are trying to live under artificial grow lights ourselves, desperately attempting to control every variable around us. Predict outcomes. Manage uncertainty. Eliminate discomfort.

But growth has always required trust.

And eventually, all of us must learn to live in the open air of dependence on God.

Reflections

Where are you struggling to loosen your grip and trust God with someone you deeply love?
What would it look like this week to shift from controlling outcomes to becoming more aware of God’s presence within the process?