I just love him so much my heart might burst wide open. Before he went to bed, he came to give me a big ole’ hug and kiss on the cheek, saying, “I need to give you one last hug and kiss while I’m 11.”
And yeah, I pretty much just melted into the carpet.
Of course, that was right after we were talking about how tall he’s getting and how much older he is starting to look. And he said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I wake up tomorrow with a mustache?”
And then his crazy younger brother said, “Yeah, and you’d be like – Wait! Am I 12 or am I 22?”
And yeah, they crack me up all the time. Except for when I dream of selling them to the circus.
But today before he made me laugh and then melt into a puddle of motherly love, he gave me one of those light-at-the-end-of-the-parenting-tunnel glimpses. You know, when you catch a glimmer that all the exhausting daily details of parenting are actually accomplishing something. I’m pretty sure I heard the Hallelujah Chorus and saw a bright aura of light enveloping us.
We’ve been praying for someone who was hurt in a car accident. Someone we don’t know at all. A friend of a friend. And this kid is the one who reminds the rest of us every morning and every night to pray for him. This kid’s the one who prays expecting miracles for this young man he’s never met.
This morning, I told the boys about a couple good things that are beginning to grow out of this very bad accident. Tiny little sprouts of hope and healing and growth emerging right in the middle of this really horrible thing. And this kid – on his last day of being 11 – burst into a giant smile and said, “That is exactly like something God would do! Let one bad thing happen so more good things can happen from it! I wonder what other good things are going to happen! That is Just.Like.God!”
I am telling you, I very nearly opened the sun roof and all the windows because that station wagon I was driving could not contain all the momma-joy and momma-relief and, yes, there was a little bit of momma-pride. But mostly it was the joy and the relief that in spite of all the times I mess up and melt down, he is getting it. God is making Himself known to my kid; and my kid is, bit by bit, knowing Him.
He recognizes God by the evidence of His goodness! I love that. I really, really love that!
So I don’t think he’s going to wake up with a mustache. But I do think he is maturing in the ways that really matter. He knows that our God specializes in making good from bad. Turning ashes into beauty. Working everything out for good. Redemption. He sees tiny seeds of good germinating in the pile of rubble and immediately his heart sings, “That is God! Oh, that is just like God!”