Too Big for Their Britches

My little seedlings have grown a bit.

     I was not planning to transplant the tomatoes until next week, but some of them were just too unwieldly.  So I set out the longest, strongest plants yesterday afternoon.

     Drooping pathetically against last year's battered cages, the plants did not look so big anymore.  The wind picked up as I gave the rest of the garden its Saturday night bath, and I wondered if the poor things would survive the night.

     Is this how all mothers feel? 
     As my sons have grown from sucklings to toddlers, and beyond, they seem so big and mature at home, so ready to take on the world.  But when I send each out into the world at each new stage, I wonder.  Is he ready?  Have I taught him well enough?  Is he really big enough to go to the nursery class at church?
     Or kindergarten?
     Or swimming lessons?
     Or Scout camp?
     Now we are approaching junior high school in a world which is, by all accounts, a tougher place than the one in which I grew.  Is he ready?
     And the answer is, of course.  He'll be fine.  He has strengths I know not. 
     So we set out our little plants, with some water and lessons for support, and watch them wilt, and stand, and blossom.  We can watch from the window, and pray that the local wildlife will not dig them up, but we cannot grow for them.  We must grow with them.
     I appreciate my mother, and my husband's mother, for raising us up and setting us out, for trusting us to plant our own little garden.  And for teaching us to trust the Master Gardener to watch over us all.