My middle child is a gem. I’m absolutely crazy about him. He laughs hard, loves deeply, is kind, smart, and moves through the world with a fierce independence that’s inspiring. Years ago, when he was about four or five, we were at a swim meet. He was bored, restless, and not allowed in the water, so he wandered to the outer edges of the pool property in search of adventure.

At the time, I had a family rule: “If you catch it, you can keep it.” Most critters darted away at the kids’ excited movements, but that night, he caught a tiny frog. And in that moment, he was lit up with pure, unadulterated joy—the kind that only children seem to access so effortlessly - (is that why it’s called un-adulterated??). Anyway, he cradled that frog like a treasure, literally vibrating with excitement all the way to the car.

From the driver’s seat I noticed his grip on the poor thing. I turned around and gently said, “Honey, be careful—you’re squeezing that little guy pretty hard. I know you’re scared to lose him, but you could like, love him to death.”

And that’s exactly what happened. He loved that frog right to its death, held on to him so tight the poor thing couldn’t breath. My son’s heartbreak was immediate and profound. A tough lesson. One I’m still learning.

I find myself revisiting that moment. The instinct to hold tight—to grip, to control, to preserve—it is so human. We resist change. We cling to what was. But life is movement. It’s transition. It’s the quiet call to soften, to release, to love without holding too tightly. Be the river, not the rock.

Love asks us to loosen our grip.

So today, I’m practicing the art of surrender. Of trusting that what’s meant to grow will grow—and what’s meant to go will go. Allowing the unfolding instead of controlling – in essence, I’m practicing loving with open hands.