Our son called today to tell me that his car had been stolen. He explained how he had just purchased it and all the effort he put into saving the money for it. I could hear the frustration and rage in his voice. He said he was walking around aimlessly, questioning why his car was taken when there are better ones in his neighborhood.

All I could do to console him was listen. I knew this wasn’t the time to give advice or say much at all it was simply a time to be present for him. My heart ached hearing the hurt in his voice.

As mothers, this is part of the process of watching our children learn to fly the part we can’t teach them. There are lessons they must figure out on their own. They have to navigate mistakes, endure hurts, and face disappointments. These experiences shape them, making them stronger and more resilient.

But even as they grow into adulthood, my job as a mother isn’t done. I still have a responsibility to feed them not with literal food, but with encouragement, hope, and love. I must continually pour these into them as they navigate this life.

It’s a bittersweet and beautiful experience, watching your children learn how to fly. But as any bird knows, sometimes you have to fall to the ground before you truly soar.