Two years ago on the night of Wednesday, November 11, 2015, I sat down and wrote a blog called “‘Twas The Night Before Change.” My son was turning 18 next day.That blog turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Our lives did indeed change the next day. And it’s been two years of climbing and fighting my way back to life….as his mother.
My son? He’s great. Young people are so resilient. He’s healthy and strong (with under 10% body fat he told me the other day. Guess that’s also the benefit of being young and male and able to eat whatever you want but that’s another blog) and living out the life God has directed for him.
And, still, as his mom, not only am I filled with memories of that day two years ago, I remember being twenty, marrying his dad at twenty. Where did the time go?
As his mom, I remember my sweet little boy who would set my nerves on high alert because as cute and cuddly as he was (and if you know him then you know he is still super friendly and a big time hugger), he was, well, “curious.” 🙂 He was fearless. I never knew what bruise he was going to have next from what. I mean, after all, it was six or seven years later when he finally told me he had climbed on top of the house to retrieve his light saber which had ended up there in an imaginary fight that had apparently gotten too good to him.
I hope he won.
I’ve spent a lifetime holding my breath, hoping my baby would be o.k. Today, I realize he is no longer my baby. He is a man coming into his own. While there is a part of me that still deals with the fear (irrational as it might sound) of what could have really happened that day, that I could have lost him, that this blog could be different, that I am now keenly aware of how life can take a turn for the worst so quickly, make you vulnerable and question everything you’ve ever seen and believe, I actually slept last night. I slept last night after crumbling almost to my knees last night in church and being prayed over that this still hurts.
I admit that it hurts. I admit that I miss my little boy. I admit that I wish he still wanted to go with me everywhere.
But I love who he has become and I’m so proud of how he has walked through this season and come out stronger. I also love that he is now old enough to buy and bring me lunch.
I love you, Shorty. Happy Early Birthday. The best is yet to come.