Skip to main content

A story.

I want to share a story.

A story about a child.


He came in to the world in no unusual way--sweet smelling and happy and infinitely loved by those around him.

His parents spent a lot of time loving him and in the process, made a bazillion mistakes.

Daily.

But, they tried.

They worked with him to talk, walk, hold a fork, use the potty.

They laid with him in bed during bad dreams and allowed him to snuggle in their bed when he was sick.

They were lucky enough to be surrounded by great friends and family and mentors.

And overall, they did a pretty good job.

But again, they messed up.

A lot.

Sometimes, they pushed him to do things he wasn't ready to do.

Sometimes, they held him back when he was ready to move forward.

Sometimes, they were too hard on him.

Sometimes, they were too soft on him.

Sometimes, they got angry when they should've been understanding.

Sometimes, they let him get by with something they shouldn't have.

And the years passed.

And the boy began to grow up.

He began to have his own interests and his own friends and his own agenda.

Some days, the parents thought they had gotten it wrong.

Some days, the parents knew they had gotten it right.

One day, the boy started pre-school.

And as he walked with his daddy into school each morning, he met an older gentlemen; Mr. Norm by name.

Mr. Norm began to say 'hello' as he passed the boy each day.

The boy answered back and would ask Mr. Norm how he was doing.

Everyday, they talked a little, and then, over time, a little more.

The boy told Mr. Norm about superheroes and the team he cheered for and his baby sister.

Mr. Norm told the boy about driving a train in Hiroshima during World War II and his wife and the team he cheered for.

Some mornings, they just chatted, and some mornings were special--like the one when Mr. Norm (at age 86) agreed to "scare" the boy by racing him around the hallways at church and 'surprising' him on the other side.

They became friends.

One day, the boy, who was just learning to write and spell, made a card for Mr. Norm, all on his own.  The card had 3 simple words: the boy's name, "Mr. Norm" and the letters of Mr. Norm's favorite team.

The boy was thrilled to deliver it to Mr. Norm later that week.

Mr. Norm exclaimed over receiving the card and thanked the boy.

A few weeks later, the boy and his daddy saw Mr. Norm having coffee at a local store.

Mr. Norm introduced the boy to his friends.

And then, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out the card.

He was still carrying it with him after all that time.

And the parents knew that they had nothing to do with this beautiful moment.

It was all the boy's and Mr. Norm's.

If you haven't guessed, this boy is my son.

And I am his mother.

One of those who keeps messing up.

But, I have learned that he is good, in spite of me, in spite of bad days, in spite of a messed-up world.

In fact, he is a being totally apart from me.

I have influence, but his heart originates in him.

In fact, in trying to teach for so many years, I often forget how much I still have to learn.

And how much he can teach me.

Like, remembering that true love isn't based on discipline and achievement on which we parents often focus our energies.

Love is so much simpler than that.

A heart willing to connect with others.

It's a little person looking up at an 86 year old man and seeing a kindred spirit.

Love is in these little people, if only we have the eyes to see it and the wisdom to stay out of the way.

Happy 5th Birthday to a little boy who is funny, smart, musical, persistent, ambitious and oh-so-full-of-love.  I am truly lucky to be your mom.

I can't wait to see what else you have to teach me.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In waiting

I can wait. I'm really good at waiting. For example, each year that my husband and I exchange Christmas gifts, we manage to wait until around December 15th (give or take) to exchange gifts. And every morning, I wait until the last possible second to roll out of bed when I have to be up. And I've waited to get in a decent, consistent workout routine for years . Bad examples? Fine. I can't wait.  I'm notoriously bad at being patient and letting moments 'be' without thinking about what's coming next or what I should be doing. Sit and watch tv?  Sure, while I sew or copy recipes or plan a grocery list.  Enjoy breakfast?  Sure, after emptying the dishwasher, scrubbing the highchair and wiping down the counters.  A nice road trip?  Sure, I'll pack my books, magazines, 7000 piece puzzle (ok, maybe not).  But, you get the point. Anyway, waiting is not something I'm good at, and this Advent season, I've finally gotten the message that h

letting go

I just didn't think it would be this hard. I thought I'd have years to prepare for these moments...graduations, going to college, moving away, getting married. I never realized these sorts of moments would come so quickly. I was watching Wardie at the playground recently and he was trying to talk and play with some bigger kids. The kids were totally ignoring him. They weren't being mean, they just had their own agendas, their own plans. And he wasn't in them. And my mama heart hurt for him. I mean, come ON!? Why weren't those kids noticing him? He was just trying to play! And, why didn't they think he was the cutest child on the planet? And, didn't their parents teach them manners and how to be kind to younger and smaller kids!? I mean, look at this face... How could someone not  want to hang out with that kid!? But, I resisted the temptation to jump in and reassure him. And, after trying again and getting the same response from the bigg

Real Heartache

The first cut is the deepest. Isn't that how the song goes? I saw it tonight, and it shocked me into a new mama reality. Ward and I were talking about his school and how his friend, Gabrielle, is moving away next week--her dad got a new position in Alabama and they will be leaving right away. And even though he knew it was coming, he was suddenly overly concerned. "But we can go see her, right?" (Well, honey, I doubt we'll go to Alabama, but if we do, I promise we will see if we can get together with her). "But we can fly there, right mom?  It's not that far!" (Well, dear, I know it sounds easy, but it isn't that simple.  We have no reason to go to Alabama and mommy and daddy both have to work and we can't just pay for plane tickets to go on a vacation." "But why can't we build a house in Alabama right by hers!?  It's warm there and I like to be warm!" (Well, sweetheart, we live here and we love t