My braveheart battle cry from last nights post was tempered this morning. I was engrossed in my usual review of the morning news over breakfast, aka ‘Facebook News Feed’, and I stumbled across two heart wrenching narratives. The first was illustrated with a picture of a non-descript elderly women, and it was one of those posts that blurred the line between reality or a poignant truth designed to transcend time. The short of it, a wife approached her husband saying she wanted him to take another woman out on a date, his mother. It had been so long, both mother and son approached the event rather timidly, but inevitably had a beautiful evening, and it was the highlight of the elderly woman’s decade quite probably. As you read further, he ends up losing his mom shortly there after to a heart attack.
The second, was a beautiful narrative written about a father’s love for his young son. How in a moment of wrestling he was able to transcend time, and appreciate the moment for what it was, the purest expression of love he’d known. Yet, while wrestling with his son, he wrestled with the fear of wise counsel all parents hear from those that go before us, “enjoy it now, it won’t last”. He ended the narrative with a comment about calling his Dad to set up a date for beers.
The two combined were a little much for this mama of two beautifully rambunctious little boys. My heart screamed in that second, don’t forget about me. Don’t forget that when your daddy went to work, before you got to tackle him with those bear hugs when he got home, that I was here, making you breakfast, playing hide and seek, snuggling you into a nap, and that WE wrestled too. Don’t forget about me. Don’t forget that I carried you, nursed you, rocked you, changed you, soothed you when no one else could, that I calmed your fears in the middle of the night, fed you every day, kissed every ouchie and spanked whatever nasty piece of furniture gave it to you. That I loved you fiercely every second of every day, even in those moments where our wills would go toe to toe with each other, and I would force you to back down, because I had to, because it was my job to teach you respect, and honor. I knew from the moment you were born I was not raising boys, I was raising men, and I know the men our world needs and there are too few of them. You will be amazing men, just like your daddy, but please don’t forget about me.
Anyone that knows me, knows we’re praying pretty hard for a daughter someday. This is the reason why. My fear of being forgotten. Daughters call their mom’s, plan weddings with them, shop with them, raise their own babies with them, they grow into friendships with them…. But it is the men who are called to ‘leave their family and become one with their wife’. We raise them, knowing this. Knowing it is our job to raise confident, courageous men, who are able to change the world we’ve set them into, and do not need their mom fighting their battles. My fear is that you’ll too soon forget all the battles I fought alongside you, cheering you on, pushing you harder. When you were scared you would fall off your bike again when the training wheels came off, and I ran beside you until your confidence grew, when you whined that you couldn’t buckle your seat belt with out my help, and I waited patiently until you did. We overcame many battles together boys, but I know the day will come when I have to send you out alone, trusting God with the men He helped me raise. Please know this will take more courage than all previous battles combined, for me to stay quietly behind, to let you leave gracefully without begging to let me come with you. Please see this grace, this courage, and don’t forget me.
Already, I am praying for their wives. For the women they will be and for the parents raising them. I look forward to developing relationships with those girls in the future. Its not the same. I know this because I see it in my own relationship with my mother-in-law. I love her, but in most cases she is not my first call to debrief from the day, to catch-up, or to seek advice on anything from cooking the Thanksgiving turkey, to curing the most recent case of diaper rash. I also see my future playing out in how Kevin interacts with his mom, and I can understand why the wife in the first narrative sent her husband on a date with his mom. The narrative didn’t say it, but this was a mom of boys. I know it. It is our silent way of asking God, to remind our future daughter-in-laws to do the same. I try to do this for you Dianne :)…. remember the hike this summer, I took Augie with me on purpose (although it was really probably good I did, cause if the 2 of us had come up against the bear…. yikes!).
I know whatever children God blesses us with in the future will fit the perfect plan He has for our family. The desires of my heart are not new to Him, nor are my fears. However, I will continue to try and be strategic in ensuring Kevin spends quality time with his mama, in the hopes someday I will get to reap what I have sown.
Boys…. Please don’t forget me.