From The Sidelines
Originally written in 2013, this reflection captures a tender season of motherhood and the small moments that shaped my faith.
Every mother experiences drop-off emotions at some point in her parenting journey. You know the ones . . . the swirl of feelings that come when you leave your child at kindergarten, a playdate, Sunday school or eventually, college. Sometimes there are tears, long hugs, and slow, reluctant exits. Other times, you’re practically waving out the driver’s-side window as you pull away.
I had one of those moments recently and it was a good one.
It was tender and simple, the kind you want to tuck away and remember. No tears. No rushed goodbye. Just a quiet departure.
We walked up to check-in for tennis camp, and I assumed my son might need me for something, if nothing else, moral support. Instead, he signed himself in, gave me a quick glance that said, See you later, Mom, and headed off toward the courts.
I turned toward the car, but something made me stop. I turned back to watch him walk onto the court, racket in one hand, ball in the other. No one ran over to greet him, and he wasn’t looking for anyone either. He just walked with a quiet confidence toward the far court and began to practice.
[Here’s the part where I hope other moms can relate.]
In a matter of seconds, a full conversation broke out between my heart and my brain.
Brain: He looks so cute out there. I’m glad he’s enjoying it.
Heart: Why isn’t anyone talking to him?
Brain: He’s shy. He doesn’t always seek people out.
Heart: What if he’s nervous? Afraid?
Brain: He just stepped onto the court—calm down!
Heart: What if he doesn’t make any friends? These kids need to know how amazing my kid is.
As this internal debate played out (all within seconds), my sweet boy glanced over and noticed me standing by the fence.
He paused, lifted his hand, gave me a quick, confident wave and carried on with his tennis practice.
Oh, my heart.
That wave said so much.
Mom, I’m okay.
Mom, you can go.
Mom, I love you, and I’m not too cool to wave.
Mom, thanks for watching. I see you.
As I drove home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how God watches me with that same steady love. He waits patiently, never leaving, never panicking, never worrying. He’s simply there, always present and attentive. And when I turn toward Him, even briefly, His heart fills with joy.
“He longs to be gracious to you; therefore He will rise up to show you compassion.”
—Isaiah 30:18
Later that day, when I picked my son up, I asked the usual mom questions: How was it? What did you learn?His answer, “I learned how to make my face look like a waffle!”.
