Dear Daughter: I Can’t Keep You by Andrea Stunz

This week’s “Dear Daughter” letter is from my Texan friend (and momma of three) across the pond, Andrea Stunz.

Dear Daughter,

My dear baby girl,

You are our last bird in the nest, and your wings are almost ready to fly.

As you enter your last year of high school, I’m already thinking of all the ways I could try to keep you. Since you’ll be crossing your finish line in England, I’m thinking I may talk your dad into not buying that ticket back to Texas for college. This season, for me, is the epitome of bittersweet.

Your brother and sister have flown already. I’ve seen the wonders that being a mom of adult children can bring. It’s hard to let go but so often, God has rewarded my open hands with more blessings than I could ever have imagined. When you were a young girl and I was your young mom, I dreaded these days. To have worked so hard to get you ready for this moment and then to watch you succeed in it is a beauty to behold.

How can I keep you safe?

But for now, and since my work in the nest is not quite finished, I often find myself wondering how I can protect my baby. How can I keep you safe? How can I keep you healthy? And how can I make sure you are keeping good company? How can I make sure you have everything you need?

When you were little I vividly remember watching the horrors of 9/11 play out and fighting the fierce urge to go scoop all my babies up and hold them close to me for forever. But just like God reminded me on the frightful morning, when fear was like a dark cloud on the edge of complete surrender:

Andrea, you can’t protect her, but I can. I’m really much better at that anyway, you know. You can’t keep her, but I can.

Then I begin thinking of all the good in you and all the good you have to share. The light you can shine on your peers. The fun you will have. The stories you will come home with. The memories you will make. Your wings need to be strengthened and strength comes from working them out.

You love people.

You have always been our social butterfly. When you could barely stand, you would stand near the end of our driveway and jump up and down and wave at cars going by. When you could barely walk, you would wobble over to stop, wave, and say “Hi!” to people sitting on benches in our mall. You love people and crave being with them. You love making them smile. And you love sharing your heart with them; the more the merrier.

Your life experiences have been quite unique. From a variety of schools to experiencing so much of the world. Your horizons and your wingspan have been stretched. I’m not at all surprised that God has placed us here, in England, for your final year with us. You belong here. But as you strengthen your wings in preparation for the inevitable, although I’m tempted, I know that I would be selfish to keep you. You are too amazing not to share. This world needs you.

My dear baby girl, I can’t keep you.

Yes, I’ve done this a few times before but this time is all fresh and new because it’s you, and it’s now, and it’s different. I will let you go with an anxious heart but a heart that knows God is covering you with His wings. I can’t protect you but He can. And He’s way better at it than I am.

I love you so much, but I can’t keep you. The truth is, I love you too much to keep you.

Go fly.

I love you so much,

Mom

Like a bird protecting its young, God will cover you with His feathers, will protect you under His great wings; His faithfulness will form a shield around you, a rock-solid wall to protect you.

Psalm 91:4 (The Voice)

Andrea Stunz

Andrea Stunz is a wife of 27 years (and counting), mom to three amazing gifts from God, a blessed mother in law and a ridiculously proud grandmother. She is a Christ-follower, storyteller, seeker, writer and a stumbling pilgrim in need of grace at Empty Plate.Full Heart. Andrea loves cooking and sharing good food and capturing stories through the camera lens as often as possible.

She finds peace, comfort and hope in Colossians 1:17, knowing:

He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.