Every now and again I start thinking about one of my kids and I just start crying.
Is that weird? Is anyone with me on that?
I know, I’m a mom and I’m biased, and I cry at random things sometimes.
But there’s this feeling with my children that is so heavy with love and gratitude that I get so overwhelmed I can’t help but get all teary.
I’ve spent a few posts glorying in the beauty of girls. My girls who, snippy as they might have been (and still are from time to time!) have become the best sisters and friends.
But what about that one boy?
The one who first made me a mom all those years ago?
Yes, the one who is so humble and takes after his dad, not a spotlight type of a guy.
But he’ll have to grin and bear this post (and another one in a couple weeks since his birthday is coming up), because I’ve got that spill-over teary gushy gratitude for him and I just HAVE to share it. (I promise to keep it short, Maxwell:)
I’m so grateful that he’s put up with all those little sisters for so many years.
That he’s put up with being our first. Our “guinea pig” for parenting.
That he’s put up with me trying to learn this mothering gig.
And he loves me anyway.
I came across this picture that makes me even more teary:
Just the two of us kneeling in his bedroom one night, after (or before?) praying together.
I cannot remember what we were specifically praying for, or why we took a picture.
It’s interesting how the years fade out all those details.
But I remember the feeling in that room that night. (Maybe the picture was to help me remember that??)
The love of who he was, and who he was becoming.
I get teary looking at that picture because I’m so glad I was there. We were there. That I held him close while I could.
Oh, it is tough to let kids go.
It is achy. It is like having your heart ripped out of your chest sometimes. (And I know that sounds dramatic but just wait until it happens to you and you’ll be with me on that.)
You send them off into the wide blue yonder to figure out all the waves that come their way.
And you have to let them go.
But then, you know what? They come back.
A little here and a little there.
They bring more awesome people into your family to love:
And even though you miss the “little them,” the bigger versions of them are pretty incredible, and it’s all a pretty grand adventure. (Elle, that “adventure” word is for you 🙂
Anyway, sorry Max, trying to be short and sweet, but I’m just here to say I sure love you.
Forever and ever. (And you too, Abigail Jane!)