Letting Go Without Giving Up

Part 2 of the "Still Raising Kids" series for parents in the sandwich generation

My son called last week — not to ask for advice, not to share a problem, not even really to catch up.

He called to tell me about a decision he had already made.

Not making. I was not thinking about it. Already made. Done. And as I listened, I felt two things happening at the same time inside me: pride that he was moving forward with confidence, and grief that he did not need my input to get there.

That is the quiet ache no one talks about — the moment you realize your job is changing, and nobody handed you the new job description.

Somewhere around the teenage years, and it deepens with adult children, parenting shifts from directing to releasing. From being the one who decides to being the one who watches. From holding the wheel to sitting in the passenger seat, trying to stay calm while they merge onto the highway.

And the hardest part is not letting go. The hardest part is letting go, which can feel like giving up.

It can feel like indifference. Like you stopped fighting for them. Like love means staying involved, and pulling back means you care less.

But here is what I have come to believe: holding on too tight is its own kind of giving up. It gives up on who they are becoming. It gives up on the work God has been doing in them — including through the hard things, the mistakes, the detours you did not plan for and could not have stopped anyway.

Proverbs 22:6 is one of the most misread verses in the parenting canon.

Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.

We read it as a guarantee. A contract. If we do our part correctly, the outcome is secured. And when our teenagers push back, or our adult children wander, we quietly wonder what we did wrong — because the verse promised something, and the verse seems to be failing.

But the Hebrew word translated "train" (chanak) is also used in ancient texts to describe the dedication of a temple. It is not about control. It is about consecration. Setting something apart for its intended purpose. Shaping the foundation, then releasing it to the One who designed it.

You were never meant to be the whole story. You were meant to be the beginning of it.

So what does letting go without giving up actually look like?

It looks like staying present without hovering. It looks like asking questions instead of giving answers. It looks like saying "I trust you" even when your stomach is in knots.

And it looks like praying differently. Not just "God, protect them", though that prayer is never wrong, but "God, finish what You started in them. Do in them what I cannot do." That prayer requires real surrender. It acknowledges that your reach has limits, and His does not.

There is something holy about a parent who has learned to pray that way. Something that has been through the fire and come out softer, not harder.

I do not know where your child is today. Maybe they are right down the hall, fourteen years old, and barely speaking to you. Maybe they are across the country, living a life you did not imagine for them. Maybe they are somewhere in between, physically close but emotionally far, and you are not sure how to close that distance without making it worse.

Wherever they are, this is still true: you have not given up. You are still here, still reading, still caring enough to look for wisdom. That matters. Love that keeps showing up, quietly, patiently, without demanding anything in return, is one of the most powerful forces on earth.

It is also, not coincidentally, exactly how God loves us.

One thing to do today: Think of one area where you have been holding on tight: a decision, a relationship, a direction your child is heading. Write it down, and underneath it write this: I release this to You. I trust You with what I cannot control. Put it somewhere you will see it this week.

Next week: "When Your Teen Walks Away from Faith" — one of a parent's deepest fears, and how to trust God with the child you raised in church.