When he was small, my youngest son had a habit of filling his pockets with treasures he encountered in his daily adventures. I didn't always understand the value he saw in his chosen objects -- really, how many rocks and sticks could one boy keep? In his eyes, though, each one was beautiful and important. Life is just like that on a larger scale, isn't it? We gather up the precious bits of our experiences and save them all to learn from and enjoy later. Perhaps you'll find a little something here that you'd like to keep in your own pockets. Thanks for visiting.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
The best kind of thanks
I often think as a mom that parenting is one of the best and most difficult things I've ever done. Like any endeavour worth pursuing in life, raising two boys presents me with moments of immeasurable joy, daunting challenges, and countless opportunities to learn as I try to help Noah and Will grow into confident, kind, happy young men. Sometimes it seems to be a pretty thankless job. The boys aren't thrilled when I suggest they eat a variety of vegetables or wear rain boots to keep their feet dry. They don't sing my praises when I say "no" for their own good or have them fix their mistakes so they can learn from them. I'm okay with that, though; I usually just imagine that one day my grown boys will come to understand and appreciate the love and guidance I gave them when they were small.
The other evening, Will and I were having a really nice conversation about birthdays and about when he was born. He became quietly thoughtful for a moment, and then asked me, "Mom, did you appreciate it when you knew you were having me?". I told him that oh yes, I was so very happy he was coming, and that I loved him from the moment I knew about him. "That's good," he said, "because I'm really glad I'm your kid." He then hugged me tight around my waist, looked up at me with his oh-so-deep brown eyes and said, "You're the best mom ever."
That kind of unexpected and sincere moment with my sweet boy is all the thanks I'll ever need.