Sliding

We had a dinner at church tonight, a thank-you from the leadership to the volunteers in the children's church for all of the hours of work this past year. It was fun and casual, just pizza and salad and a lot of chit-chatting.

There was also some random giveaways, about 10 gift cards to various restaurants. I didn't have much hope, because I never, ever, ever win these kinds of things. But it came down to the very last ticket that was drawn. By this time, I was barely listening to the numbers, because, hello, I never win.

And then she called, "4007015!" And I didn't even move, until my hubby nudged me and said, "Isn't that you!??"

Well, what do you know.

The only gift card left was one to Olive Garden, which I like, and although hubby isn't wild about it, even he knows better than to turn up his nose at free food. So I foresee a date that includes pasta (whole-wheat, of course) and a lot of salad in the very near future...

They opened up the playland area in the children's church for the kids, and since there was no age limit tonight, I took Savannah over. I nearly changed my mind when I saw how packed out the place was. Kids everywhere, a few little ones but mostly older, all pushing and swarming and sliding, just being kids.

But Savannah is teeny tiny. Savannah still wears some 18 month clothes, and she's 3. Savannah has never been on this gigantic play structure that is usually only for kids 5 and older. I was ready to grab her hand and march her back to the safety and relative boredom of the foyer where all the adults were hanging out.

But she didn't hesitate. She sat herself down, whipped off her shoes, and ran towards the entrance of the slide. She was swept up in a hoard of kids that were pushing their way up the stairs, and she valiantly kept up, little legs stretching and fingers groping for a handhold. And she never looked back.

I stood there off to the side, holding my breath as she was bumped and jostled, overtaken by the bigger kids, surrounded by screams and shouts of laughter, but not even caring. She was having the time of her life.

For a second I felt like I was looking down a long tunnel at the rest of her life. Seeing her swept up into something that was bigger than what I thought she could handle, and wanting to rush in and rescue her from a danger that hadn't even happened.

And I realized...I cannot always be there to watch over her. Nor should I be. I will have to let her go, let her climb, let her figure things out on her own. Life will happen, and she'll get hurt. She'll have the wind knocked out of her.

I think the hard part will be knowing when to swoop in with all of my motherly instincts and make it all better, and when to quietly let go and let her learn on her own.

I'm just glad I don't have to figure all of that out today. For now, I am still the one she wants when she comes down from the slide and she's ready to go home.