There was a moment today when I realized I owed my son an apology.

Earlier, when he said he was going for a walk in the snow because he needed to get out of the house, my response carried more edge than grace. A winter storm has us stuck in the house, and the past few days haven’t been easy.

I hadn’t even gone outside myself to assess the conditions. From a distance, the roads looked dangerous — snow covered, icy, uncertain.

My frustration wasn’t rooted in control; it was rooted in concern. As a mother, my mind raced ahead of the moment. What if he slips and falls? What if I can’t get to him to help? What if a driver loses control? Is he thinking about his new job? His wedding? Is he staying safe for the future he’s building — for the woman he loves? What if he gets sick?

I chose not to voice those thoughts, but they lingered anyway. They showed up in my tone. In my posture. In the quiet that followed. When he returned home, I didn’t even ask how his walk was or whether he was okay. I was relieved he made it back — but still a little salty.

For most of his life, my son has been adventurous, curious, and willing to explore whatever catches his interest — often keeping me on the edge of my seat. I know that feeling may never fully disappear. What is changing is my understanding of motherhood.

I’m learning how to balance my role as his mother with the reality that he is now an adult.

I never want to squelch his desire to explore or live fully. I understand how vital it is to guard one’s peace of mind. And if a walk outside helps him do that, then my work is not to interfere — but to trust.

To trust God with his every step.
To trust that he will think things through and make the wisest choice he can in the moment.
And to pray that he won’t overthink life to the point that hinders him from living it.

I am grateful for the man he is becoming. Confident that God will continue to develop, establish, and guide him in every way.

And I am learning — day by day — that love sometimes means letting your actions speak louder than your words.

The rain and snow come down from heaven and do not return there without giving water to the earth. This makes plants grow on the earth, and gives seeds to the planter and bread to the eater.

So My Word which goes from My mouth will not return to Me empty. It will do what I want it to do, and will carry out My plan well.

ISAIAH 55:10-11 NLV