[Nick, my firstborn, turns 10 today. My heart is full and my hands are lifted. I’m so grateful to be his mother.]
A Son is Joy. He keeps my glass full. He brings a smile to my face. His spark quickly changes my mood, showing me the goodness in the moment and the divine on the ordinary.
A Son is Laughter. He has that charming yet ridiculous boyish sense of humor. He wears mirrored glasses and a shower cap in the airport. Just for fun. He tells silly jokes I will never fully understand. But I still laugh. Hard.
A Son is Pain. I hurt when he hurts. I watch him learn lessons and I want to intervene. But I don’t. I hold back, knowing that God is in control. Not me. I watch him grow and mature and my heart aches, knowing that I must let go. Again and again.
A Son is a Mirror. When I look at him, I see my strengths. And my weaknesses. I see the possibilities – the hopes and the dreams. He brings out the best in me, and sometimes the worst. I can’t help but stare. I don’t look away.
A Son is a Companion. He’s my back-seat driver, my biggest critic, and my biggest fan. He invites me to build a sand castle. I can't say no, even though I hate getting my hands dirty. He’s my night owl who stays up with me late and asks me tough questions about life and faith. He pours out his heart. I am his confidant, and I reciprocate his trust.
A Son is a Gift. He has been entrusted to me for a time. I want to give him my best, and I don’t want to screw up this privilege called motherhood. He is a gift from God. He is pure grace, and through my son I experience the deepest love of the Father.
For the last 10 years, I have humbly held my son. But he is getting too big to hold. So instead I walk beside him and trust that the Father will hold us both.
Happy Birthday, my son.