LETTERS TO MY SON: growing up
Dear Son,
Your room is crammed with boxes, overflowing with piles of towels and sheets and supplies. Teetering towers of t-shirts and extra socks take up every square foot of space in what has been your man-cave for many years.
In just a few days you will sweep all that messiness into the back of your car and drive off to make a home of your own.
When you leave I will take all my mama-grief and scrub every corner of that square of space. I’ll patch holes where you poked pins into the wall to hang your posters. Cob-webs will come down, memories will be loosened, all our long talks will echo as I dust and shine and try to find a way to place all those memories somewhere safe.
And every moment I’ll be wishing I could have stopped the years, that I could go back again and tuck you into bed at night, run my fingers through that bristly shaved head you insisted on every summer when being a boy meant sweating and swimming and certainly not messing with such a silly thing as hair.
I’ll breath deeply of the scent of manhood and remember the boy you were. The nights of worrying that diabetes would rob you of the freedom you craved. The mornings of waking you for school and answering that question that came bubbling to the surface the moment you opened your eyes: Where is everyone?
How I loved your love for all of us! Your determination to keep connected, to know where your brother was and what your sisters were up to. Your full-fledged involvement in each member of this crazy crew we call a family.
I will miss you Matthew. And the tears rim my eyes even as I push hard to put them back.
This growing up is good, so why does my heart grieve?
And I know the answer, dare I say it?
I grieve because the full birthing of love always brings loss.
To birth you into the man you are called to be I must lose the boy you were. And I know because I’ve done this before. I know things will never be the same. That the closeness that comes from living and laughing and making you meals and waking you early and worrying when you’re late… will change.
You see, dear son of mine, I have loved being your mom. And I’m a mama still, I know, but it’s the every day I have loved best.
The serving and the soothing and the listening and the hoping and the teaching and the reading and the cleaning up of little boy messes and the wiping away of big-boy tears.
I have loved how you bound up the stairs , and how your bring your friends home and crowd into your tiny room to talk about who-knows-what and pretend I don’t know that you’re talking about girls. And maybe they like you and maybe they don’t and oh how you and all your friends who are men now wish they would and someday… someday someone will.
Matthew, I have been writing these letters about that someone. That someone who will like you and love you and hope for you forever.
May she relish who you are as I have.
I love you Matt,
Mom
Loved this post Diane! This makes me savor even more the ages and stages of my kids, knowing that this day will come for me as well!
That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read. I love it!
Diane, I welled up with tears and reflected on so many wonderful memories as I read this. My son, Jacob, is a grown man now and has two adorable son’s of his own. I will never forget those precious intimate times he and I had together as I tucked him in bed each night, or as we laid on the family room floor and just talked about the Lord and life. Diane, I love you and the way you share your heart with such beautiful tender boldness.
There you are again, Janet, speaking into my life. “tender boldness”. Somehow you so often manage to define things I do not understand… love to you! Diane
You had me crying first thing this morning, Di. Thank you for this. Leah leaves in a few short weeks for college. She’s packed up her part of her room and is temporarily sleeping in the top bunk in Garrett’s room. The other girls are so happy to have only two to a room now. But, oh my…it’s strange. And though she’ll only be an hour or so drive away, I know it won’t be the same. Thank you for putting my own heart’s feelings into words…even though yours is a boy and mine is a girl; yours is your last and mine is my first…our mama’s hearts are the same. Love you!
Dearest friend-Becky, I love you! From your place of weakness you have poured strength into your family- and into me. Thank you, friend, Diane
“I grieve because the full birthing of love always brings loss.”
Powerful, true words!
I am crying!
Laurie, I know you’ve felt all of this and more… just think of the moms all around the world who are joying with such sadness this month as they pack their babies off to do what we raised them to do…love to you, Diane
“but it’s the every day I have loved best.”
I love this. It is the attitude I am trying to have each day with Micah. I am trying to cherish the little moments because I know I will miss them soon enough. Thank you for that reminder. Also as I was reading this and thinking about Micah, I was also grieving the fact that my older boys didn’t have this from their mom. I wish I could change that for them.
Arica, Sometimes the very everyday-ness of each and every day is enough to wear a mama out! But you don’t get those days back… instead you get to build relationship based on those days. Just like we keep coming back to the Father because we can’t stop remembering the last time… how He is faithful and good.
I am so glad your boys got you. Though they may roll their eyes and pretend, no doubt you have filled in some crevices in their hearts. God bless, Diane
Thanks Diane! Thanks for preparing this momma heart that “goodbyes” will come. When Elliot turned to me and asked, “hold – y me mommA!” with a high pitched squeal, I just laughed and scooped him in to my arms. I held him as long as he would let me and tried to imprint on my heart the memory of his small little arms wrapped around my neck. Thank you for reminding us young moms to savor the hugs, kicking the soccer ball in the afternoon together and even the late nights with little mr. sniffles!
Michelle, I’m so glad you get it. I am at this rich stage of my life when I treasure all those memories made in the pressures of living and raising four chlldren with a crazy-busy husband.We’re up in the mountains now where we made so many memories with our children. Enjoying being together as we thank God for people like Bill and Laurie Keyes who told us over and over again to relish the moment NOW. Love to you, Diane
Diane,
I loved reading this. My son is 13 and about a month ago surpassed me in height. Everyday I etch all the tiny moments in my mind because I blinked and suddenly, he’s 13. He recently moved out of his little bedroom into the bigger guest room with the bigger bed. A week ago I repainted his old little room where I had painted insects on the walls. I couldn’t paint over all of them – I left one there, just to remind me of that little boy. Amazing the love God puts into our hearts for our children and it amazes me that His love is exponentially greater! I miss my little boy, but also love the man he is on his way to becoming. He will have to pick me up off the floor when he heads to college, I cry at the drop of a hat.
Dear Kathy,
I love the picture of you painting around that one last insect on the wall! I’m thinking we mothers ought to through each other good-bye parties for our children and only invite moms!
Oh my goodness, reading this JUST after putting my four month old son to sleep in his crib. It was hard enough parting with him for the few hours of the night he’ll sleep alone in his crib. At around 2am he’ll stir awake, and I’ll jump at the sound of his first sounds and scoop him up and snuggle him the rest of the night with a smile. I pray for his years to come, and have begun praying for my own heart, so deeply attached. Oh this post is a song to me. Thank you for writing it and reminding me of how precious these short days are.
Dear Ghina, I can just picture your smile as you cuddle him close. Do you know, I think our babies soak all that love and affection in and then when they’re 20 they pour it back out on us. My “baby” never fails to wrap his arms around me and pull me in to him just like I did all those years ago.
Love to you, dear one, Diane
Dear Diane,
Thank you for sharing your heart. I never signed up to not bear children of my own but that has been my life’s story. God has been faithful, though to sneak me in like Moses to the Promised Land, through the children of my husband, family and friends. In moments and stories, through the grace of Jesus, I almost fee as though I am a mom sometimes. Such were the moments of reading your writing today. Thank you. May the Lord meet you in the midst of the grief, celebration, and life-living and be what you have need of in each. a