A couple of Thursdays ago my phone lit up with a text from my son. He's in college, about 45 minutes away. 90 if traffic has opinions.

Mom, I need my suit.

His fraternity was taking a picture and he needed a black jacket and a white shirt in a couple of hours!

And I was off. Before I'd even answered, I was rearranging my whole day in my head. Which meeting could move? Could I find the right suit that fits and get it pressed? In my mind, I was already flying down the freeway and back.

Then I caught myself. I took a breath, a long one, and asked the questions I come back to whenever I feel that pull.

Is this mine? Does it still need to be?

So I texted him back. I want you to pretend that I don't live 45 minutes from you right now, and come up with a solution.

Hitting send both terrified and freed me. Am I abandoning him? Is this uncaring?

I held my breath. And do you know what he did?

He got into an Uber with four of his fraternity brothers, and they went to Goodwill. Fifteen minutes later, he had what he needed for the picture.

I was sitting at home, half waiting for it all to fall apart, because sometimes Goodwill is great and sometimes it isn't. It didn't fall apart. All I had left to say was, "Good job, dude."

Here's what I keep thinking about. If I had driven down with a freshly pressed suit, he would have had a nicer jacket. What he got instead was so much better.

He got to say, "It might not be perfect, but I figured it out. I did that." That's confidence, and you can't hand it over in a garment bag.

I needed to gift him with that opportunity, and it was a gift for me too.

For so many of us, rescuing feels like love. We're capable and fast, and we can usually fix it before anyone else notices it's broken.

But every time we swoop in, we quietly take something from the people we love: the chance to find out what they're made of. Stepping back isn't withholding love. Sometimes it's the most generous thing we can give.

I'm still learning this one. The urge to grab my keys hasn't gone anywhere. I'm just getting better at noticing it and taking that breath first.

So I'll leave you with the question I asked myself that Thursday.

Where in your life is someone waiting for the chance to figure it out, if you would just pretend you don't live 45 minutes away?

Love,

J'aime