My Boy- Halfway

Dear P,

I know you hate it when we call you P, but you know, internet safety and all. So, sorry about that. I could have gone with Snuggle Monkey, but your friends would all make fun of you, so P it is.

Nine years ago, you burst onto the scene a seven pound eleven ounce ball of fury. I fell in love with you instantly. I swear. Everything about you was handsome, and chubby, and precious. You were my boy.

Being the only girl in a house with three brothers, then marrying your dad, gave me lots of practice with boys. I thought I was going to be a pro at raising you because I knew all the intricate details of the male mind. Like, feeding them is important, and to leave them alone when they hurt themselves because injured bodies mean injured pride. I also knew to check the toilet seat, and that underwear don’t seem to have an expiration date.

But I wasn’t ready to be your mom. I had no clue.

I didn’t know that you would be such an enormous source of pride for me. That all of your accomplishments, great and small, would make my heart swell.  I didn’t know that I’d rejoice times ten, or wallow times a million, in triumph or sadness. I didn’t know that being the mom of a boy would mean I’d get a new and wonderful appreciation for the relationship your daddy has with his own mama.

But where I find the deepest sense of satisfaction is getting to witness your kind heart.

I see the respectful way you speak to the elderly, or listen when they speak to you. I see the way you play with babies in the grocery store. I hear you talk to other kids about church and Jesus.  You let our old dog, with her gross breath, lick your face because you know she loves it, and you love her.

Son, there is nothing on the earth more awesome than getting to be your mom. I get to watch you grow up a little bit every day. Not all of our moments are good, but there are so many more great ones than bad.

Today, I’m halfway done mothering you. Every day from here on out, you’re closer to pulling away from me than you are to where we began. And I’ll be honest, I’m kind of a mess.  I’m a disaster because I know how fast these first nine years have gone, and there are only nine left! Nine years before you go to college, or basic training, or on a mission trip to some far off land.

I only have nine more years to try and be the best possible example of Jesus’ grace and love. And we KNOW how bad I am at that! Nine years doesn’t seem like enough time to fit in all the things we need to accomplish. But it’s what we’ve got.

So, here’s the deal. For the next nine years, I’ll give it my best shot. I’ll try to remember to show you grace when I step on Legos, or when I’m digging Silly Putty out of your hair (that better not happen again!), or when you screw up big time.  I’ll hug you and feed you unhealthy food when your girlfriend breaks up with you. I’ll help you pick out your prom date’s corsage. I’ll make sure your dad teaches you how to change the oil, and to make your favorite bacon wrapped chicken.

Most importantly, though. I’ll show you Jesus. I’ll never be good enough at it on my own, but I’ll read you those red words, so you can hear Him for yourself. Son, you can listen to people tell you about Jesus all you want, but reading the words for yourself gives you ownership of your faith. And, before you move on to something too amazing to even imagine, I pray you own your faith. That the boy who lives in my home now grows into a man who knows who he is in Christ. If I do nothing else as your mom, I’d call that a success.  

Today, you’re going to school in your pajamas to celebrate the last few weeks of third grade. You’re putting together a new Lego set, and filming us with the video camera you’re absolutely DYING to have.  In nine years, you’ll be in a cap and gown, getting ready to launch.

 I don’t know where you’re going, or what you’ll do, but I have such faith in you. You are strong willed, with a huge capacity for love, and I know that God has something amazing planned for you, my boy.  I promise to do my best to help you follow the path God’s laid out for you. I’m so glad He put you on mine.

I’ll love you to infinity and beyond,

Momma