A Small Contribution to Mother’s Day
Rarely a week goes by when I am running errands that I do not run into a mother who has to pause and tell me she has a son. Usually the conversation starts something like this: I have a little boy. Well, he’s not a little boy anymore. He’s twenty-three now. When older mothers see Cooper with me, it takes them back. They sometimes tell a specific story, and I imagine they could tell me exactly what their boy’s face looked like at that moment and what they were wearing. Cooper is always perplexed and asks me who I’m talking to. I tell him it’s a mother remembering her little boy and to just be kind and let them touch.
I always heard there’s just something about a little boy. I never liked those words. I guess I felt they took away from my girls. I love my girls. I love discipling them. I love the girly things we share. I love the connection I have with them. But, there is something special about having a boy, and it doesn’t take away from the relationship I have with my girls at all.
I’m not sure I can put into words what is so special about having a boy. Maybe it’s the way he looks with dirt on his face, or how he “bows-up” when he’s going to do yard work with his dad, or how he tries to deepen his voice to tell me he’s going out to play. All around, I just think he’s great.
I have to ask God daily to help me let go a little at a time — for him to start kindergarten, for college, for marriage. I hold on to him tightly, and I hold him loosely. I don’t want him to grow up, but I want him to grow — into manliness, into godliness. I know that I have to step back for those things to happen. Sometimes I have to look away a little when he and his dad wrestle a little too rough. Sometimes, I may have to step back for God to discipline. I don’t want to get in the way of him becoming who God is leading him to be.
For now, he’s 5. So, I can still say I have a little boy, but I know one day, I’ll be the old lady in the grocery store telling someone stories about Cooper. Maybe they’ll take time to listen.