Learning To Let Go

When I was young, I wrote a short story about a large boisterous family.  Children, chaos, and craziness were theirs in abundance. The mother of the family was full of joy and mirth and found herself quite at home in the mess and chaos.  

That was the mother I dreamed of being.

I have always wanted to be a breezy mother, a cultivator of creative minds and free spirits. The sort of mother that might laugh joyfully at paint splatters on the wall. 

But, alas, I am not that kind of mother.  

When I finally became a mother it turned out that my priorities had less to do with creativity and more to do with controlling messes, chaos, and noise levels. 

The place in our home that most expressed this “no mess” desire was our craft cupboard. 

At first I gave crafts with children a good shot. I tried to harness my inner breeziness and be adventurous with different mediums. But craft extravaganzas in our home always resulted in papers dripping with paint or glue and then taking up valuable counter space to dry all to be secretly thrown out in a few days.  It all felt so wasteful and messy.  My enthusiasm began to wane. 

I think it was the glitter glue incident of 2013 that was the first nail in the coffin.

After that I began to find oil pastels scraped on window screens and ground into a carpet or charcoal smeared on a wall and tracked all over our house. My joy in young creatives began to fade.

My hold over the craft supplies became increasingly tightfisted. Craft resources were doled out slowly, measuredly, miserly. I became like Scrooge, “Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire.”

My children protested at my growing Scrooge-ness but I remained unmoved.  I could no longer tolerate craft mess. I had reached some sort of a breaking point. Control was the only option. 

But at least it was tidy, at least it wasn’t wasteful - I would tell myself.

It all changed in the Screen-free Summer of 2022.

When we came to the end of the 2022 school year, my husband and I decided to take the plunge into something we had aspired to do but had never done - a Screen-free Summer. No computers, no devices, no shows - just the occasional Road To Avonlea movie night.

Screenless-ness created large voids in our day and I realized I was going to have to release my hold on the craft supplies. If there’s one thing I value more than tidiness, it is my own sanity.

At first my children hardly knew what to do. They kept asking for permission to use things and apologizing if things spilled.  But after about a week they came to understand they could try out anything and everything in the craft cupboard. 

And they did. 

They painted and coloured, needle felted and diarama-ed, they created miniature doll furniture (it was really small),  cross stitched, sketched, and knitted. They also made all sorts of things for which there is no category and they did it all for hours. 

I listened, from another room, as they laughed together and fought, as they processed their school year, told stories and reconnected after a year apart.  They painted when they were angry and drew when they were peaceful.  They came alive. Supper became a Show and Tell time and we were treated to evening theatre presentations. 

Releasing the tight hold on the craft cupboard brought new life to my children and our home. As I let go we learned how to breathe again.  

We can hold onto things so tightly as parents, can’t we?  But, to be fair, with good reason.

Without any prior training we are handed these helpless tiny strangers. They tear into our lives physically and metaphorically.  Their small hands flip the chess board of our ordered world and send it into chaos.

Then, they quite quickly become our most valued possessions and we spend our time trying to ensure they are not stolen from us.  Having a child is like having your soft and vulnerable heart running around outside of your chest. Completely exposed we become desperate for something to control. 

To have children is to find out just how out of control we truly are.

As they grow, children become increasingly slippery in our grip.  We cannot hold on to them they way we want to.  

So, when we find something that has the illusion of control - we hold on to it tightly and without mercy. 

For me - it was the craft cupboard (and a few other things).  

This summer letting go brought new life into my family.  Instead of exasperating my children with limited access to craft supplies, I opened the craft cupboard and allowed my children the chance to breathe, stretch, and grow.  It gave them space to surprise me and humble me. 

My need for control was exposed but it was met with the most beautiful breeze of grace and creativity.   

We are given the stewardship of keeping our children alive. But, we are also tasked with allowing them to truly live. Letting go is beginning to teach me to do just that.

May God give you the wisdom and discernment to know when to let go and when to hold on. May you be given grace to know the difference.