“Aren’t you the little one that hid in my arms afraid of the thunder?  Are these the little hands that held so tight to mine?  Didn’t we both agree you’d never grow up, and now here we are and here you go? Of all the things I want to say, the thing you really need to know is, I believe in you. Everything you are. Everything you are becoming. I believe in you.” (Steven Curtis Chapman)

Tomorrow, my firstborn son – the child who made me a mother – will turn 21 years old.  I have to be honest and say that this week has been very emotional for me.  I can’t tell you how many times it has hit me and I’ve dissolved into tears.  I’m not sure if all moms go through this when their first child becomes an adult – a full-fledged, legal-in-the-eyes-of-the-world (and the law) actual ADULT. I’m not sure what is causing the emotional upheaval for me – he isn’t getting married, isn’t moving away from home…nothing much is changing except a number…so why does it feel so very much like EVERYTHING is changing?  Why do I feel as if I’m losing my boy? 

I guess, technically, I am losing my boy-son and gaining a man-son. I’ve never been the mother of a man before; I’m not sure I know how one mothers a man.  What if he doesn’t need me for advice anymore?  What if he does? Will I know what to say? I remember asking myself similar questions 21 years ago as I watched my belly grow with his new little life.  What if?  But, what IF?  I was terrified then, and I think I’m terrified now.  Then, of what I was gaining, and now, of what I might be losing.  It makes me sad to think that, as he ages, he won’t need me in the same way he has in the past.  Oh, over the years, as he has grown toward this milestone birthday, he has become increasingly independent – but something about this birthday feels different, transitional. I don’t think I like it. 

“So many prayers we’ve prayed; so many dreams to get to this moment. Now this is where we stay, while you go change the world. But I’ll be where I have always been – up in the stands, cheering you on, and singing this song. The song the very God Who made you has been singing all along, ‘I believe in you. Yeah, I believe in you.  So spread your wings and fly on the winds of knowing I always believe in you.’”

Ah, this man who is my son.  I’m so proud of him.  He has given me more gray hairs that I can count; the worry wrinkles on my brow are my tattoos of motherhood.  I haven’t been a perfect mother, which is perfect because he wasn’t always the perfect son.  Despite his missteps, occasional rebellion, and a thousand other gray hair and wrinkle producing behaviors, he was and always has been a good kid.  From a very young age, he decided that music was his future, and set his face like flint in that direction, learning as many instruments as he could get his hands on, teaching himself how to play them.  He practiced for hours in his room, door closed, over and over again until it was just so.  Then he would come out and play it for me.  He didn’t know that I had already been listening, ear pressed to his door, silently crouched in the hallway, unseen and unheard, my heart singing along.  He was – and is – dogged in his pursuit of perfection.  I am his biggest fan. 

“And when you rise and when you fall, I’ll still believe in you. Just close your eyes and hear me calling, ‘I believe in you. Oh, I believe in you!”

From his very first performance in front of a crowd – he was 8 or 9 years old, and he played Third Day’s “God of Wonders”, he has always been comfortable on a stage, in front of people. He has always had this intrinsic ability to draw in a crowd; to engage them, to encourage them to join him in song – or in worship. He can lead the people of God into worship, because he has known the place of worship. Even on the few occasions he has performed secular songs in various venues, he still interacts with the crowd and ensures that they are not just observers, but participants in the music.

His dreams are slowly but surely coming to fruition.  He is becoming known in ever-widening circles of musical-type people.  He is centered and based in the amazing worship team at our church.  That is his primary focus, as it should be, but he also now travels to lend his talents and skills to other worship leaders in surrounding areas, and even other states.  I’m so PROUD that he has chosen to pursue the Christian music industry as a singer/songwriter/worship leader.  His is a high calling, given by God at a very young age, and I have no doubt God will complete the work He began in my boy. 

If time shows that his dreams need to be reexamined, perhaps redefined a bit, I will still believe in him, wholeheartedly. That’s sort of my job as his mother, right?

Young mommy, cherish your sleepless nights, little toothless grins – or if your children are a little older, love the busy schedules, the endless homework, even the rolling eyes.  It all passes so quickly, and before you know it – before you’re ready – you’ll be facing a milestone birthday…the last single digit…the first “teen” year…DRIVER’S LICENSES…the first 20…and then, like me, 21.

It’s funny, as I began typing this two days ago, I truly was worried that I would become a part of his childhood, laid aside like his toys – another trapping of childhood no longer needed.  Today, as I pondered the way I could possibly end this Blahg with so many questions still remaining in my heart, my phone rang.  It was my man-son calling to tell me that his car had broken down about 40 miles from home as he traveled to play with our worship team at another church, and he didn’t know what to do.  I listened as he griped, as he told me I wasn’t helping with the advice I was giving him and I pointed out that it was because I was telling him what he needed to hear & do, not what he wanted to hear & do.  I was frustrated with him, and he with me….and soon I realized – yep…I’m still his mom.  A couple of numbers won’t change that.  There will always be help needed, advice to be given, and rescues to be orchestrated.  So, in true Mom fashion, I donned my cape (glad I hadn’t yet stored it away like a pressed rose!), secured he and his equipment a ride home with loving church family, and explained how we would handle getting him to a commitment early tomorrow morning.  Then, I gave him the phone number to Roadside Assistance.  You go, boy-man! You call that Tow Truck! J

I love how God answers our questions, and calms our uncertainties. I’m pretty sure He giggled as He orchestrated THIS rescue of this mom’s worried heart. I can almost hear Him whisper, “Oh, he will need you for a while yet…watch this…” Shhhhh…don’t tell my boy-man that I giggled along. 

Happy Birthday, Son.  You will always, always be my baby, and I will always, always be your Mom….even when you don’t want me to be.  I love you.