Giving them up to the unknown

"..the giving of love is an education in itself."
Eleanor Roosevelt 1884 - 196


I recently found myself flipping through my old high school yearbook (for some reason I can't remember), and came across a message from a friend that read, "Who will be # 10,482?" She was referring to what my mother called my "collection of boys". Remember how in middle/high school, a couple would begin "going out" together? Well, I was a notorious speed dater. My shortest record was 2 hours. It got to the point where there was a betting pool on how long my relationships would last.

Sad? Maybe. I prefer to look at it as a series of tests. I didn't date until I entered high school, and suddenly there was a plethora of options. I would begin a relationship, and end it as soon as I'd decided it was not what I was looking for. I couldn't have verbalized what I was looking for, but I knew when something wasn't it. None of them were what could be described as a "serious relationship", despite rumors to the contrary. All in all, it was a highly entertaining way to spend the high school years.

It wasn't until I entered college that I had my heart broken. I was in a relationship with a wonderful fellow, which I thought was going somewhere, when it ended suddenly. He had met someone else. After locking myself in my room and sobbing until my nose was puffy, my eyes were red, and my vision was blurry, I came to the conclusion that if I truly cared about him, then I would want him to be happy. So I wrote a long letter to him, explaining that because I cared so much, I was willing to toss my hopes for our former relationship aside and move on.Looking back, I wonder at the ease with which I moved on. I wonder if my ability to let go as easily as I did indicates that my commitment to the relationship wasn't as serious as I had thought.

The funny thing, is that as much as I dated, I tended to worry about the men I dated. I worried that in sending them back out into the dating pool and it's inevitable pit of water moccassins, they would get hurt. The fear of the unknown. The "I may not be the best thing for them, but what if they end up with someone worse" feeling. Nevermind that it's no longer a relationship I wanted to be in. Would they find someone else? Would that person make them laugh? Would that person encourage them to be themselves, or would they try to "change" them?

I am now very happily married, but I still have the same feeling - only this time, it's with puppies.

Yes, puppies. We have a small litter of puppies hanging around our house. I know that they will soon be brought to the No-Kill Animal Shelter to be given to good homes, but I worry that the homes they find won't be as good as the one they have here. Nevermind that I can't afford to feed three more grown dogs. Will they be well fed? Will they have another dog to play with? Will they have lots of room to run around?

I keep telling myself - if I truly care about them, I will let them go. They need to find their own place in the world, their own family to love. Giving them up to the unknown is the hardest thing. I know that as a mother I will more than likely experience a very similar feeling as I watch my children grow up. The world can be a scary place, and sending them out into it is even scarier. No longer can I protect them from everything, and filter their experiences. No longer can I shelter them from all evils, and minimize their pain. So I rely on the only thing I can tell myself: let go, and let God.

Let go, and let God.... Let go, and let God.... Let go, and let God....

Faith can be the scariest thing, and simultaneously the most reassuring thing of all.