Joy A. Mead

Maybe it was hearing my son talk more positively about school in recent months or perhaps it was realising that I no longer get a wave back from him at school drop off; he now confidently walks through the school gate to start his day of learning without looking back at mama.

And when did he start saying goodnight without asking for a cuddle? Or begin washing his hair all by himself? When did my baby boy grow up so much? The years of daily moments are all blurred together.

Luke is only nine so, Lord willing, we still have many more years of growth together, but there are moments in a mama’s heart that feel bittersweet. It’s like the everyday challenges soon become milestones that suddenly get reached and you feel equally sad and happy all at the same time—sad that certain moments and routines don’t last longer and happy that so much progress has been made.

There was a time not that long ago when my son would hate going to school. Because in a crowd of other children, he was shy, quiet, and disliked making small talk; he didn’t know how to engage socially with his peers. It took him awhile to understand healthy boy play, navigating the difference between bullying and mild rough play. He hadn’t quite figured out which extracurricular activities he wanted to do. Nothing was an instant fix, but we kept on praying for things to improve and little by little, they did.

Luke found a love of swimming and decided to try piano lessons like his big sister. He opened up to being more communicative at home and school. And I would never have imagined my son would not only enjoy but excel in kickboxing, receiving a distinction in his class as one of the top three students. He is growing in confidence and starting to come into his own, knowing what he likes and dislikes and being able to articulate it.

Over the summer, we enjoyed time at the beach with the cousins. On one occasion, I watched as Luke crept closer and closer to the high tide waves and situated himself on a large rock. He was testing how close he could get to the water without becoming drenched. My big boy needed to equally face the fear and excitement of the powerful waves. I did ask him once if he wanted to move back, but of course, his answer was, “No, I’m fine.” So, against my own overly cautious tendency, I let him decide for himself to stay out on his rock. There were a few close calls of nearly getting soaked, but it was so good for him to test his limits and for me to practice backing off slightly.

There’s an encouraging message that I’ve heard circulated in mothers’ groups that God chooses you, specifically, to be mama to your children—that even on the hard days, you provide the unique love, stability, and nurture that your kids need. I think this message could also be flipped around, that God chooses to bless a mama, specifically, with her beautiful children in order to stretch and grow her heart capacity for more compassion, grace, and love. Both of my children have been a source of blessing and growth in my life.

But one of the hardest lessons, which I’m still learning, is the ability to gracefully let go of another piece of my heart, year after year, entrusting my precious not-so-little one to God as he daily grows more and more into the person God made him to be.

His witty charm and sarcastic humour, his infectious smile and readiness to make a game out of any moment, his thoughtfulness and deep questions about the world. These are the attributes I am so privileged to witness and nurture while he is still mine.

And one day when his hands are larger than mine and he towers over me in height, I will remember the plethora of little moments shared throughout the years of childhood. With gratitude, I will thank God for the chance I had to be Luke’s mama, now watching the pieces of my heart go on to bless others through whoever he encounters.