I'm pretty sure that if I worry enough my children will never fall short or be unhappy or make a wrong choice.

II"M PRETTY SURE THAT IF I WORRY ENOUGH MY CHILDREN WILL NEVER FALL SHORT OR BE UNHAPPY OR MAKE THE WRONG CHOICE.

I must believe this because why else would I continue to expend so much energy in areas I cannot control? Well, I try and control them, but more accurately, I have a certain amount of influence which should, under ideal circumstances, be diminishing since my children are mostly of the young adult variety.

                                                   What I think is happening:

What my children think is happening.  (Actually sometimes this happens)

What is really happening

I've tried to be brave and wear a casual front. I encourage trying new things and following dreams and inspiration. I want my children to be themselves and expect them to explore their unique gifts. I say, "Go have an adventure!" and I mean it. But my mind and heart are constantly thinking of them. I find myself trying to picture them in their spaces, hoping they're safe and content and kind and loved and honest and faithful. I have a life of my own. I sure do. I just haven't had my brain to myself for 36 years. That's fine except my brain space should represent my home space. 8 of my 9 children live outside my home, you'd think they'd be living outside my head also. A mother's love is a powerful tether.

About 20 years ago my 21- year- old brother and I were driving to the zoo in the neighboring city. He was driving my car so I could care for the children buckled into the back seats. I thought I was pretty relaxed, but then my brother asked me a question just as we were going around a ramped curve. I said, "Wait until we get past this part of the road." He laughed at me and asked if I thought it would make a difference in our safety if  I didn't stop the conversation to worry. I dismissed his ridiculous comment and assumption with a defensive statement, further proving how wrong he was. I have remembered that moment to this day. So now I admit, I do think my worrying improves everyone's safety. We didn't crash, by the way.

My worrying improves safety in the way I have chest pains when I wake up in the morning if someone I love is in spiritual, academic, social, emotional or physical peril. It improves safety in the way I ask stressful questions packed with fear to make sure everyone is on the same level of worry that I am. It improves safety in the way that my view of a hopeful and bright future is dimmed by my hyper-focus on the storm, trials and danger ahead. I guess this all adds up to my worrying improving safety not at all.

Yesterday when I was reading my scriptures I smiled as I read a familiar verse which stops me with its relevance every time. Jacob 4:18 ..."if I do not, by any means, get shaken from my firmness in the Spirit, and stumble because of my over anxiety for you." Apparently a person can be shaken from firmness in the Spirit if they are over anxious for people they care about. That doesn't sound very safe.

In church this past weekend, the teacher shared this quote that her mother had heard from Elder Robert C. Gay in Stake Conference in Tulsa, OK, "Your child has a Savior and it's not you." When I heard this I paused, and my heart began to expand and become free from it's tightly wound vigil. I not only can't save my children. I'm not supposed to. They have to choose. They have to learn. They have to turn to the One with power to save, lift, heal, magnify, and exalt.

I'm not supposed to be driving my older children's car on their life's journey. I'm not even riding in the back seat. I picture my job as standing on the side of the road with 2 signs, one with a heart so they know I love them, and one with an arrow pointing up.

My last child received his driver's license this summer.

We started the driver's education process with him studying the road rules and then taking the written test so he could procure his driver's permit. Then we had him drive slowly, very slowly around the parking lot. The next task was to drive from cul-de-saq to cul-de-saq in the neighborhood, once again very slowly. I educated him on staying in his lane and not hitting mailboxes and slowing for turns and preserving the lives of pedestrians. Next we went out on the open road with increased speed. He became the main driver to seminary, but I always backed the car out of our dangerous, slanted and curved driveway. It takes a miracle to avoid our menacing mailbox. He drove to Augusta on the GA interstate which was an exhausting and intense experience for all of us. He practiced parallel parking and backing into the parking lot and was finally ready for the driver's test. He is now a legal GA driver. But there was more for me to do. I had to actually get out of the car and trust him, even backing out of our driveway. So one night I told him to drive himself to the youth activity at church. I nonchalantly handed over the keys and said see you later. OK, I actually said, "Text me when you get there."  But, he got there and hit no mailboxes, because he is a capable, problem solving, teachable human. And when that's not enough, he is loved and watched over by heaven.

Trust is a Christ-like quality. He trusts us with agency and life and the ability to progress. As a mother my stewardship is to protect and love and educate and when the time is right, get out of the car. I can trust in the Savior and His plan and I can also trust my children to get to their final destination.They will probably scratch their car, have a flat tire, make a wrong turn, be lost for a while, maybe even totally wreck. But that's how we learn to drive. I gave them the best directions I could. I can worry if I want, but they won't be safer so I'll just drive my own car. They're in good hands.