That Day

I was reading Ann Voskamp's blog today and I almost cried. She is a mother of six. She is a writer. She homeschools. And here she was, describing the son who had her crying of the floor on the mudroom. 

I don't have a mudroom, but I have a son who makes me worry and weep. And another son who makes me worry, if not weep. And one more that sleeps so poorly at night that sometimes I want to weep.

But that's not why I almost cried. Reading Ann's words about her son now is what made my heart swell.

He won a grant this past term for his pitch of a new agricultural tech start up. At 19, he has his own team of engineers. A handful of times every week, he messages me: "Love you, Mom. You're doing great." He sponsors more than a dozen kids through Compassion. He's one of my very best friends. One of my very favorite people in the whole wide world. I never want conversations with him to end.

That last sentence paints a picture of what I want in my future. When that day comes, the day when we are past chore charts and bedtimes, I want to sit up late into the night, a cup of cocoa in my hand and fresh-baked cookies on the table, and talk and talk and talk with my children. I want my children to be my best friends.

But for now, I still doubt myself. I constantly reevaluate how I parent and try to do better. Then I still doubt because I want a guarantee that no one can give me. There is no formula for parenting. I can only dare to hope that I will ever make it to "that day". And pray and pray and pray and pray.