Matt’s New Season of Robotics

How One Step In Faith Shifted His Future

For many parents, expressions of love are often displayed through protection, guidance, and proximity. My expression is holding my children’s hands, soothing aches, anticipating their needs, and intervening before harm can reach them. I’ve always felt that kind of love is required, especially in the early seasons of childhood. Plus, that’s the kind of love I received from my parents.

However, as children mature, our love as parents must mature as well. The mature season is a transformation from shielding to trusting, from directing to witnessing. It’s hard, but I feel my trust in my faith has helped me this season in many ways.

Our middle son Matt is who he is. Quiet in his confidence, logical yet scientific in his thinking, and deeply caring. He is kind, sweet, loving, and rooted in family. Those qualities have always defined him more than any title or degree ever could.

I remember the first year Matt traveled to New Mexico. He took an engineering research internship. He was curious, determined, and somewhat brave enough to step into the unknown. This time was different. This time, no friends accompanied him. It was just him, his calling, and the long road ahead.

Standing with him at the airport, I saw his nerves carefully tucked behind composure. And the mother in me wanted to say the words that rose instinctively in my throat: “You don’t have to go, you can stay home.” But instead, I heard my own mother’s whisper, steady and knowing, saying: “You must encourage him, Lisa. He’ll be okay.” In some way, it was something I needed to hear, too.

So, I hugged him tightly, holding back my tears, and told him the truth.

“This is meant for you. You worked hard in your studies, and you deserve this moment to show the world who you are.”

For a second, I felt Matt believe the lie that he did not belong at the internship, especially without any other engineering friends or classmates. He pondered how he had been selected from so many others. The fear was so bad that if I caved to it, he would have used that lie, that he’s no good or not good enough, as an excuse not to go after his dream.

Even though I hated seeing his fear and instantly wanted to rush to his protection, I could not. That season for him had shifted. During that moment, I instantly understood the shift. Even with the best intentions, my clinging could’ve subtly displayed doubt in Matt. It could have suggested that I did not believe he could carry the weight of his own calling. However, once I let go, I did not withdraw love. I displayed my faith. Faith in scripture, faith in the values my husband and I instilled, in the lessons learned through hardship, and in God’s design of Matt long before we ever held him in our arms.

That summer, like the others before it, he was deeply missed. But it was also, I believe, the first summer Matt truly realized something important. He realized that after his college graduation, his small circle would scatter in different directions. Life was shifting. Paths were diverging. And growth often asks us to walk alone for a while.

He needed that summer in New Mexico, and boy did he shine!  

There, he grew academically, personally, and confidently. His studies sharpened. His focus deepened. And the school, the staff, and the environment left such an impression that he knew, without hesitation, exactly where he belonged. That school is where he would continue pursuing his engineering and robotics research while earning his master’s degree.

Letting go, for me, gave my two older children a chance to take ownership of their lives. Purpose cannot be borrowed or supervised. It must be claimed, tested, and sometimes struggled through independently. When I stepped back at the right moment, I created spaces for Matt to make decisions, bear responsibility, and build resilience, and qualities that cannot be taught through instruction alone. One factor I did notice was that our oldest needed to be let go earlier and in a different way than Matt.

This kind of letting go is not abandonment; it is alignment. It acknowledges that parenthood is not about possession, but stewardship. We are entrusted with our children for a season, not a lifetime of control. Our role is to prepare them, pray for them, and then honor the unfolding of who they are becoming.

So, in August 2025, we packed Matt up again, this time with most of his belongings. What did not go with him on the plane, such as additional clothing, his tools, the computer he built with all of its gear, and his car, were shipped, with pride and quiet faith.

And now he is in New Mexico. He’s doing well. He’s thriving. He continues his robotics designs and research (that I cannot explain but enjoy listening to). He finished his first semester with a 4.0 GPA, and we are so proud of him, his hard work, and notable accomplishments and contributions to science, and all of his work with community engagements in the area. 

Watching him step fully into his purpose has reminded me that sometimes love does not mean holding on. Sometimes it means letting go long enough for your child to become exactly who they were meant to be.

For parents, especially us mama bears, understanding this truth can ease the tension between love and fear. It reframes success not as closeness, but as confidence, not as dependence, but as direction. In recognizing that, I found peace in knowing that our greatest contribution may not be how tightly we held on, but how bravely we learned to let them go.

For My Matthew… We are so proud of you, love you always!