The relationship between a mother and a son is a difficult one. Too close and the son turns out crippled, too distant and the son turns out….crippled. For me, parenting a daughter was easy, schmeasy. Of course, the daughter I was given may have played some small, minor role (ha ha), but overall the task was simple. I gave my daughter what I thought I would have wanted and I had a husband who is a terrific father–Lord, I lucked out on that one.
But it hasn’t been so easy raising a son. Of course, the son I was given may be playing some small, minor role (ha ha), and I’m still lucking out with the terrific father, but overall the task has not been easy for me. This is the child who wouldn’t sleep. This is the child who could cry for hours on end. This is the child who clung to me, night and day. like Leonardo DiCaprio clung to that headboard in Titanic. This is the child they (and they know who they are) warned me would end up so clingy he’d never separate from me. Boy, were they wrong.
Maybe because he clung so hard now he has to fling so far to get away. It is painful for both of us. Maybe (I’m saying just maybe, because right now I’m not certain of anything–every parenting belief, theory and philosophy I have is up for scrutiny) because we were so attached we still communicate (when we’re not angry and sullen towards each other), but we freely can talk about how painful this separating is, for each of us. He doesn’t want to hurt me and do things that break by heart, but he does. His very being sometimes hurts me, profoundly. I don’t want to smother him and crush him back into being my little boy, but I do, my very being sometimes hurts him, profoundly.
Why does God give us these men-children for a season and then they leave us? And we count ourselves fortunate if they will but include us in their own life journey.
Mothers and Sons. On my mind and on my heart lately, but I apparently have little to say. Except I love my son and I worry constantly and I pray unceasingly and I hope prophetically.