This doesn’t make any sense, you may think. I’m the parent, the teacher, the leader. I’m the one who knows how to do things. I know more than they do. I’ve been doing this for their entire lifetimes. They’ve always looked to me to know where to go, what to do, and how to do it.

True. But then in a moment, when you’re not paying attention, all of that shifts. Sometimes it’s a subtle, sleight of hand. Sometimes it’s an earthquake.

It doesn’t happen all at once. They’re in front, and then they’re in back. Then they’re in front again, learning how to remain there. Their in-front times last longer; their in-back moments shrink. With a minimal understanding of how trajectory works, you can see where this is going.

There are two ways to deal with this. One is to fight it. The other is to accept it. For the love of all that has gone on before, accept it because this is the natural order of things. You will not forever be in charge, so embrace the shift when it begins to happen. Gracefully and gratefully accept it–because this is the glorious moment when your life as a parent becomes easier.

It starts so subtly in even the most common settings. You have been the one to create Sunday family dinners. Always at your home, always the meal you choose, always done your way. And then one of your kids casually says, “Hey, how about we have next Sunday’s dinner at my house?” Well, okay. Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.

You go to that next Sunday dinner and in a startling moment realize you are no longer the keeper of the family’s time-honored tradition. You begin to see you never actually were. You have been the bridge from the past generation to the next generation. So now this isn’t your home, that isn’t your menu, and this isn’t the way we’ve done this in the past. It’s now the way they do it. If you’re wise, you’ll shut up, sit down, and thoroughly enjoy the fact that you are not solely in charge of this event anymore. It’s both debilitating and liberating.

I recently took a trip with three grown daughters. I’ve been on trips with my kids all my life as their parent. I’ve never been the kid on one of those trips. But this time I was. The daughters made plans and I tagged along. They kept me corralled among them as we walked unfamiliar streets. They threw out an arm to keep me from crossing a busy street. They checked to make sure I had my phone and purse before we left the hotel. Every. Single. Time. They shepherded me in a way familiar to me because they did it how I used to do it for them.

At first, I felt opposition rising in me. Hey, wait a minute. Who put you all in charge? And then I realized, I did. When I taught them how to do all these things, I put them in charge. As they grew stronger while I began to weaken in their eyes, I became someone to protect. So, I relaxed. And enjoyed solicitous care by three very capable moms. I almost felt spoiled. They were cared for by just me in their growing up while I was now cared for by all three of them.

I’m not giving it all up at once. But I am learning how to step back when my children step up. They are capable, and I am tired. If they want to be out in front, making decisions, shouldering tasks, and keeping track, I say this could become the best part of my life. Give me a task, I tell them, and we will all be content. They’ll be in charge and I’ll become a contributor.

I’ve always taught my children that a mother isn’t so much a person to lean upon as she is someone who eventually makes leaning unnecessary. What I didn’t see is this also requires the one who has been leaned upon to learn how to move forward without needing someone to lean upon her.

We like to think our children will always need us. But we also know the day will come when we are no longer here for them. The greatest gift we can give them when they still have us is teaching them how to move on when they do not.

When you see them leading out, you’ll know they’re on their way.