Happy Birthday to My Boy

Dear Joel,

My poor boy, you are just like your mama…

But lucky boy, you are your father’s son.

We are both firstborns. We are both emotional. We are both particular. We are both see-ers of a glass half-empty. We both need an adjustment period when we learn a plan changes. You are just like me. I love it, and it drives me crazy.

In you I see the strengths I know I could have… and pray for your victory over struggles we both share…

I see in you depth and a great capacity for compassion. Your heart of compassion draws compassion in return. Your heart is a blessing to everyone who is fortunate enough to engage with you. I am told over and over and over again about the blessing of your kindness and thoughtfulness.

Your laugh and sense of humor is like cold, fresh water on hot, muggy day – longed for, refreshing.

You are all boy, and as you turn 11, the curtain of your boyhood is slowly closing. You still play as hard as you ever have, but I know you are changing. I know your energy is slowly redirecting, your interests evolving… Before I know it, the light sabers will be replaced by…

The stage? You love acting. Right now you claim your aspiration is to be a comedy actor. I can see it. Did I mention you are just like me?

The urban jungle? Parkour is your activity of choice. Everywhere we go, you are leaping and hurdling and flipping — off, over, around, under and through. You have always been a physical boy… daring and full-throttle.

A guitar???

Whatever you decide to do/be… I know it will be great. You will make a difference. You will impact others in ways that matter. You will be a blessing and a joy. I know this. I know this.

I know this.

Son, you make me laugh. You bring me the deepest moments of joy. You stretch me, push me… and drive me bonkers. Your inquisitive nature is hard for me now, but I know it will serve you well in the future. Oh my, but it sure is hard for your mom… the constant explaining and explaining and explaining.

Buddy, your tender heart will be your greatest strength. It will also bring your deepest pain. My prayer for you is wisdom… to know when to let go… to know what is worth getting upset over. Wisdom. Choose your battles… there will be many. I know the struggle, Son, because my heart is a lot like yours… But yours is young. Not wounded, except for my own parental failings. I pray for me — to make right decisions for you. I pray that you are a leader and not a follower… continuing in asking those questions as you fight for goodness and the right thing.

I love you, buddy. Beyond description. As much as I fail at this whole “mom” thing… I pray your heart knows I love you. Deeply. Madly. And I dream of the day we are gathered around your kitchen table and we make fun of the nutty mom of your youth. Bless your heart. The firstborn has to bear a lot. I know… do I ever…

I love you, son.

Mom