Eleven.
This stage is new. This
stage is different. This stage is a
little hard.
But I guess technically every stage of motherhood has a
little “hard” in it. But it’s the greatest
privilege I’ve ever loved.
But eleven.
It’s hard to think about how quick we got to eleven. It feels like it’s flown by. But at the same time it feels like a lifetime
ago since we brought you home and it was just me, and you, and your dad. Just the three of us. Those times were sweet. But those times somehow seem like forever ago,
and yesterday, all at the same time.
Your heart is so tender.
You’re such a good friend. You’re
the best big brother. You’re an amazing
son. You worry more than I wish that you
would, especially since I know that trait came from me. You love big and that makes my heart swell
with pride, because that’s another thing that I know came from me. You are a good friend, and I hope I can take
a little credit for that too. I’m
watching you become more like your dad… less like a little boy, and more like a
young man. If you grow up to be just
like your dad, that’ll be fine by me and this world will be lucky to have
you. You’re almost as tall as me
now. You eat more than me for sure. But you still can’t beat me at ball… 😊
I pray so many things for you as I try to learn to be a good
mom to you in this new stage of life. It’s
your first time to be an almost teenager.
But it’s also my first time to be the mom of an almost teenager. Eleven is weird. You’re not a little boy any more. But you’re not a teenager yet either, and you’re
just kind of stuck there in the middle of it all… you’re learning so much. I watch you learning to love and it thrills
my heart and scares me to death all at the same time.
I watch you as you try to figure out life. I watch you long for deep friendship. I watch you as you are becoming a better,
more mature Christian. But I watch you
closely as you’re learning to love.
I’m not one to encourage a “relationship” at your age. You’ve got plenty of years of heartbreak and
puppy love ahead of you. I wish I could
protect you from your heart ever breaking, but I know that I can’t do
that. But as you’re learning to love, there
are many things that I pray for you. And
there are things about this stage in your life that I don’t want to forget. So tonight I’m putting some of those things
down in writing.
I love your friendship with your friend, and our neighbor, K. I love how sweet you are to her, but I love
that you don’t take it easy on her when you two are playing ball in the
driveway. I love how she’s tough and holds
her own against you, and I know someday I’m going to watch her playing high
school basketball and I’ll think back to your days of playing in the driveway
and wonder if one of the reasons she’s so tough and so aggressive on the court
is because you never went easy on her and treated her like a girl in the
driveway.
I think back to a time recently that you kids were outside
playing with your siblings and a few of the other kids in our neighborhood and
you all ran to the door because you were just sure that you had heard gun
shots. I tried to assure you all that it
more than likely wasn’t gunshots, but honestly I had no idea whether it was or
not. About that time, K’s mom texted me
and asked me to send her home. I relayed
the message, and as she turned to head home, you looked at me and said “I’ll
walk home with her so she won’t be scared.”
Honestly, I think you were more afraid than she was. But God showed me through you that day that
when we care a lot about someone, it makes us brave.
I hear it in your voice and I see it in your shy smile when
you talk about K… you’re beginning to like her as more than just a friend. But I love that your friendship is so pure
and innocent and that it all revolves around basketball. Playing together… texting about your games,
her games, Graves/Marshall games, Kentucky/Louisville games, Golden State games… I just watch your sweet little friendship in
amazement and I remember more innocent days gone by and wish time passed more
slowly.
I read your text messages.
And I know her mom reads hers as well.
I look through your photo gallery on your phone and see that you save most
of the selfies that she sends you.
Eleven.
I’m not naïve. I know
that the chances of that blonde haired girl that plays ball in our driveway
being a part of your life forever beyond friendship is slim to none. But I think back to when I was eleven. And the first boy that I ever scribbled the
words “I love you” to on a handwritten note on wide ruled loose leaf paper out
of my 5th grade binder at school just so happens to be laying across
the bed from me right now reading a book.
Eleven
It’s new. It’s
different. It’s hard.
You’ve got a lot of life left to live. And I can’t wait to watch you live it. But today, I love watching you learn to love bigger. And I love watching you learn to be a friend
better. And I pray that you’ll always
remember that being a good friend comes before love. Always.
Eleven is new. Difficult. Hard. But
oh is it fun.
Seeing the world through your eyes is fun, my eleven year
old.
Keep loving big, my boy.
