The Rhythm of Letting Go

originally published in Arise Daily Devotionals

Some moments in life arrive like a familiar song, even if the steps feel uncertain—like when I recently found myself on the dance floor with my son, learning a waltz that reminded me how fast time moves and how love helps us create a new cadence.

The ballroom dance instructor took my son and me by the hand, leading us to the center of the floor. I slid my hand into his and drew a deep breath as we began. Step one-two-three-collect, step one-two. The steps felt foreign, but the memories came easily.

I taught my son to count and sang him his first song. I was the first hand he ever held.

Now I looked up at him, over six feet tall, remembering when I used to tie his shoes and tickle his tiny toes.

I was surprised at how quickly I picked up the waltz, though I knew it would take hours before the steps felt natural. After the lesson, we sat to hear about package options for our mother–son dance.

My son is the first of my five children to get married. As the younger brother of triplet sisters, he grew up fast. Like many of us, we built traditions, some inherited, and others uniquely our own. Autumn brought familiar rhythms of apple picking, cider donuts, and a pumpkin spice latte in my hand. Before long, the kids joined me in our coffee shop stops. Our rhythms kept us steady as seasons changed. 

We moved through our fall traditions similar to foliage changing from year to year. Some were marked by joy, others shadowed by loss. At times we celebrate with intention; others slipped quietly by. Through it all, our family routines reminded us who we were and held us together.

This fall is different. 

Instead of orchard trips and lattes, we’re preparing for a wedding. A new fall celebration to embrace our growing family. 

Deep down, I longed to dance flawlessly, not for the guests, but to ease letting my son go. Perhaps you know that ache too—the gentle tug of change.

Sensing my thoughts as we looked over packages, he asked, “Mom, what do you want from this dance? I know you’ll get lost counting steps and miss the moment.”

His words stilled me, and the silence became an invitation to quiet my own soul before my Father and rest as His child.

“Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with his mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
—Psalm 131:2 NKJV

Weaning is never easy for child or mother. One learns to trust; the other to nourish in new ways. 

This dance felt like that. A new rhythm. 

I decided to trust my son’s wisdom. We skipped the lessons and chose simply to be present with one another.

On his wedding day, it won’t matter whether memories overwhelm me or float past like soft music. I will see the man he has become—the gentle spirit who faced fears, wrestled history, and grew tall in grace.

He taught me a lesson no dance step ever could: 

the same God who trusted me to hold my son now holds me as I let go.

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness.”
—Psalm 30:11 NKJV

We don’t have to master each step of the changing seasons to lean into the One who leads. The One who steadies our feet when joy shakes us and change feels both holy and hard. 

Today, let God lead your steps—release, trust, and rest in His care.

And may we remember when the music fades, the dance never ends.