Dear son,
My beautiful boy, with the eyes of your daddy and a heart like your mama. You are in a place of struggle, a season of suffering. You're stuck in that part of childhood where you don't quite fit comfortably in either place. Too big for the bucket of cars you used to carry, but not quite ready for the real world your teen years will reveal. You aren't a mistake, you're a miracle.
Life has thrown you a curve ball this last year, losing your Nana at such a young age. It hurt a lot, didn't it? Having someone so special suddenly taken from you, has twisted your innocent little mind and brought about questions and thoughts that were once so foreign. It hurts and it's confusing, I know. But, you aren't a mistake, you're a miracle.
The anxiety that's crept into your life leaves you feeling out of control. I watch you, and I see it below the surface. I see it behind the laughter with your friends. I know that in your head a thousand things are swirling and you're trying so hard not to let them see it. I see it when you catch my eye. My boy, you aren't a mistake, you're a miracle.
At night when you come to me crying, when that anxiety within feeds you more lies, I break inside. I want to wrap you up in a swaddle like I once did, hold you close and whisper to you that everything will be okay. I want to promise you none of those things that worry you will come to pass. I want to take away your pain. I want you to know you aren't a mistake, you're a miracle.
When you quietly ask why you were made this way, when you beg to be like other kids, when you tell me you're a mistake—it takes everything in me to hold it together. To not fall apart on the floor in a heaping mess. I grab you with all my strength and inhale your nine-year-oldness. Brushing my lips against your hair, as your tears hot and heavy fall upon my arm. I remind you that you are amazing, and unique, and there's a miraculous plan for your life. I speak and speak and pray and pray and hope that today will be better than the day before. I want to yell from atop a mountain “My darling son, you AREN'T A MISTAKE.” Because truth be told, you are a miracle.
Your life began in the month of March, nine months before you were born. Knit together within me—your heart began to beat, your blood began to pump, your precious mind began to form. And from the day you took that first breath, you have been taking mine away. You are far from a mistake my sweet boy. So very far. You're the air that I breathe and the sun when it's grey. You are my miracle.
This road might feel bumpy, I get it. But I'm here to drive the car. I'll go carefully, making sure you're strapped in. I will hug you and love you and listen to your fears. I'll encourage and pray and never, ever give up on you. Because not only do I believe in you, but Jesus does too. And He doesn't make mistakes, He makes miracles.
Love you forever, like you for always.
Mama
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About the Author
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