A Lesson In Letting Go From My Son.

It always amazes me where the letting go happens. How it happens. Where it happens. When and why.

Today the boys and I decided to take a trip to our local Little Library. Or as my 10 year old calls it, the bird house on pole.

We wanted to see if it had any room for more books. We have many. We need to let go of some. A short drive later and we were parked next to the decorated box, the boys asking to get out and see if there were any books they might like to keep! Um, not what we had planned kids.

My heart was happy for this despite it not being the plan. You see, not only a year ago, the mention of a book or reading homework would have ended in a meltdown. This was progress.

The two little boys each happily found a new treasure and began talking about how they wanted to rush right home and find books to bring back. How we could make some more books fit in the little box and how neat the concept was. So off we went.

I waited in the car and not three minutes later, my 10 year old came out with a stack of donations. Among them was a series we’d treasured. My heart began to hurt.

We’d used these books two years ago when he was struggling in second grade, to connect. He was having such a hard time at home and at school. They were Disney books in a series. Each one a small snippet of a beloved tale, sharing a moral.

His idea had been that I would come in and read a story to the class, he would help, and then I would sing a song from the Disney movie to his class. It became such a hit that we made it a weekly thing. What fun we had that year.

As he stood there with the books, the memories flew back. Then it hit me that these books were also special for another reason. They had belonged to my two year old Niece who had been murdered in 2009.

I reminded him that they were Neveah’s. To which he replied, “ I know Mom, but we can’t keep trying to hang on to her.” My heart.

It was a lesson I’d taught many times. It was a reminder I needed.

We agreed it was time to let those books go. And with that reminder, I walked into the house and looked at my own books. Books that I had clung to trying to save a marriage. I let go.

Books I had used to lose myself in every night when the thought of being alone with myself was too uncomfortable to bear. I let go more.

Then I took a deep breath.

Back to the Little Library we went, proud of our choices. Proud of our growth. Proud to be of service to others.

It always amazes me where the letting go happens. Today it was in an impromptu trip to a birdhouse on a pole and the words of my amazing son. And I am so grateful.

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