A tap on the shoulder. An older woman with tears settling in as she considered what she saw. “I always imagine it’s a special bond– a mother and her son.” She had seen the way one of you leaned behind daddy to rub my arm for a moment during church. “Do any of them ever come up and. . .” I knew what she was asking, though I don’t know how she would have worded it or even how I can put it into words now.
“Yes.” I answered her. Before I could tell her that all four of you love and take care of me well, we were interrupted. She has two girls. Grown. I wondered if she missed never having a boy to love on her, stand beside her, be protective of her.
I don’t think I’d ever stopped to consider the uniqueness of that boy/mom relationship. It’s all I’ve known. But when I consider a mother with her daughter, I realize that this certainly is different. And it makes me grateful again. You four boys are so precious to me. You all have moments where you snuggle in next to me and let me know that I’m your girl 🙂 I love it.
I needed that reminder because I often get bogged down by the burping at dinner, obnoxious noises, rowdy inattention. All those things that make you boys. But I truly love you and I love everything about you (even if sometimes I need to step away from it for awhile;).
I was thankful for that tap on the shoulder. I am thankful for that little hand that reached behind daddy to let me know he loved me. I am thankful for each of you. I love being your mom.
When I was your age, my only dream was to be a wife and mom. I can still remember my first baby– the one that came about 18 years before any of you grew inside of me. Emily was given to me as a birthday gift and she didn’t leave my side for months. I still remember how her rubbery head smelled– weird as that is. My next baby was actually my brother. When your Grandma brought him home from the hospital, I snatched him up and took care of him as well as I knew how– all the while adorning the “doctor’s clothes” we’d received at a sibling class the hospital hosted. I loathed the moments when I’d have to hand him over so he could be fed or go down for naps.
You know, in all of my playing house, I never imagined that God would give me four boys. At 2, 4, 6, and 8, you guys are my little loves. I see dreams seep through those hearts and mouths and I pray that all your desires would come from Him. My deepest yearning is for each of your hearts to be connected to Christ’s. For all the teaching, training, playing, crying, and overall madness that goes on in this home, I know that it is God who has to work in each of you. Can I tell you what a relief that is–especially in the midst of these hard seasons when words are said that can’t be unspoken, tones used that can’t be undone, when priorities are sometimes crooked, schedules unpredictable, brothers seemingly favored above you, when mama runs out of her chocolate stash and can’t even find a quiet closet for a few moments of stillness. Our life is loud and it is hard. But I pray you can taste and see how good it is because of our God. Even on the hard days.
More than anything today, I want you to know that my heart is always crying out and interceedingfor you– for grace, salvation, fruit, and a deep heart-knowing of God. You–Drew, Gabe, Wes, and Noah– are my little pilgrims. And I pray for the grace to lead you well to the Celestial City (we are obviously in the middle of reading Little Pilgrim’s Progress).
I love you like crazy,