I stood in the driveway barefoot with tears running down my cheeks as I watched my 20-year-old son, Will, pull out of the driveway. I had no idea where he would spend the night. I didn’t know who he would meet on his trip. I wondered why I agreed to let him drive across the United States, alone.Just before he left, I slipped an envelope of emergency cash into his truck, along with a bag of homemade oatmeal raisin cookies and a Gatorade Frost. Then, he set out. Will planned to hike, rock climb, and camp his way across the country for over two weeks until he started his summer job in Northern California.Even though that May morning was beautiful, my heart felt empty, bleak, and cold. What if he runs into a serial killer? What if he falls off the side of the Grand Canyon or gets devoured by a mountain lion? I was sick with fear. Questioning my judgment. Beating myself up. Even though my husband and I made the decision together to let Will drive to California, guilt crept in anyway, pressing down on my heart like a stone.Mothers (and fathers) have to make endless decisions for their children. Sometimes, I’ve used good judgment, and sometimes not. Maybe you can relate. Perhaps you, too, have stood tearfully in the driveway proclaiming yourself to be the “Worst Mother Ever” like I have.If so, I’d like to share some truths with you that I’ve learned to cling to:
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