Sometimes I wish I could put you in a little plastic bubble…where pain, rejection and suffering will bounce off playfully like tiny rainbows of light. But, my loves, momma knows that every bubble pops eventually…and living in a bubble not only keeps you from transformative experience and growth, but also prevents the rest of the world from experiencing your beautiful light.
You are full of light, love, and wonder. You worry and fret and cry. The truth is, the world you live in is both beautiful and tragic. While you sleep, and I am getting a fleeting glimpse of your sweet baby face, I marvel at just how unfathomably lucky I am to be your mom. And I also start to worry. I worry that illness may visit, that tragedy may strike. “Surely, this is too good to be true,” I think.
And in the morning, after I have marveled at your beauty and innocence, I go to the hospital. I visit babies whose lungs are filled with the help of a ventilator. I visit moms who are saying goodbye to the heart that walks around outside their chest. I see sweet bald-headed toddlers whose bodies are filled with poison – a poison that will hopefully make them well someday. These babies, these mommas and daddies, they are so brave because they have to be. What happens in these rooms are the realization of a parent’s deepest fear…but also of a greater reality…that life is a tension of joy and grief, beauty and pain.
No amount of worrying, of throwing resources at orchestrating the perfect circumstances for your development, or prayer can guarantee you a pass here. And as you grow, beautiful boys, you will learn this. You will learn that sometimes you will follow the “rules” and you will still get hurt. You will have people who love you and you will still feel lonely. You will strive to seek justice and peace and still sometimes inflict harm. You will feel rejection. You will feel pain. You will be afraid.
But you will not be alone. As your momma, I can’t keep you from these things, and I would be doing more harm than good if I tried. While you are here with me, and with each day that we have together as you grow, I want you to know these things.
You are a Divine Blessing – and you, right where you are today, you are good. You are loved beyond measure, and there is nothing you can do to change that. You will make mistakes…you are learning, and you are never going to have it all figured out. You will always have a growing edge, and while it may feel painful to acknowledge it, awareness of it brings strength. You are yours…you are not mine. You get to make choices about who you are and what kind of person you are becoming. Those who love you are here to teach you and guide you, but we are not making you…we are watching you become. You get to define what success means to you…not culture, not your peers, not your family. You will learn what your heart beats for, and I pray that you follow the Life.
No matter where you are, my love will find you. Whether we are near or far, I’m tugging on your invisible string, babe. I will not walk for you, but I will walk alongside you.
I will make sure I take care of my own being too. I will make choices that lead to health, and I hope you will see in those choices the miracle and gift that is your body. I will acknowledge my mistakes and make amends, and I hope in those moments you will learn that perfection is not what earns you love. I will show up in vulnerability, and I hope that in these sacred moments, you will learn that it is not only ok, but holy to ask for help…and to acknowledge our own powerlessness. I will continue to seek justice and truth and we will struggle through what that looks like together as a family…I hope you learn how to be an advocate and ally, and you will use your privilege in a way that benefits creation. We will openly wrestle with our understanding of God in ways that are developmentally appropriate, and I hope that in this you will learn to wrestle too…that faith is not a list of answers, but a beautiful dance of questions and tensions to live into.
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