(From where I stand…seems to be the week of Son’s. How appropriate during Holy Week. To God be the Glory.) 

The world is getting bigger. 

The conversations are getting harder. 

The truth? 

It’s all a little terrifying. 

How do I explain things even I don’t understand? 

Grief…sadness so deep you feel yourself sinking. 

How do I emphasize the quiet beauty of the human spirit when Evil speaks so loudly? 

Fear…worry tearing through our walls,  crushing buildings and lives. 

How do I explain the things I so want for him to know…

Gratefulness all encompassing that every minute matters.

Kindness so vast, that every life is Cherished. 

Nostalgia for memories and history that give roots and ground him.

Dreams that are lived, little and big- and real. 

Sorrow so real, that it folds him in two, because he has known true Love.

Love so real, that He eventually can get back up and find his hope again.

Courage to fight for the broken, strength to know when to fight for himself.

Happiness that is deep and pure, and ebbs and flows across his life. 

Effort that is heart wrenching, and hard. I want him to learn how to work for things…I want him to know how to fail…because I want him to realize there is a messy beautiful in that. 

I want him to continue to seek God. Because I don’t have all the answers. And I’m terrified because the letting go, and letting God fill those spaces we as parents just cannot fix is so very hard. 

The world is getting bigger. 

And life is getting more complicated. 

So we pray…

I hold his hand, that used to fit inside mine and now his fingers envelope mine. Forehead to forehead, mother and son. 
We pray for beautiful souls lost too soon to depression. 

We pray for places targeted and attacked in the name of evil. 

We pray that people know love, and find happiness. 

We pray for his godparents, their children. 

We pray for his grandparents, his Aunts and Uncles, and cousins. 

We pray for his friends. 

We pray for his coaches and teachers.  

We pray for the poor and forgotten, and those who have no one to pray for theme 

And we pray for the deep intentions of our hearts. 

And I look at him- his eyes scrunched tightly just like he did when he was little, and we would pray. He holds both my hands, with his big hands and sways a little. 

And I give him to you God. Again. May he always search for you. 

My beautiful boy how blessed I am to be your Mom.