My Boo

To My Boo,

My precious first born, my amazing first gift, I love you…I love you in way that is hard for the human mind to even fathom. I am so honored to be your mother, and so blessed to have witnessed your journey up until now. It seems as if just yesterday you were running naked through the house, giving us your best Power Ranger moves, sound effects and all. It was so hard to keep clothes on you. It was so hard to keep up with you. The amount of energy that spilled out of you was like nothing I had ever experienced before and the laughter you caused, just by being yourself, was just as abundant. Where has the time gone? I remember the “older mothers” persisently telling me just how fast this would go by. I also remember thinking, contrary to their words, that I had all the time in the world to enjoy your “babyhood.”  Well, they were right…and I was certainly wrong.

You said something to me yesterday that really struck me. Not that it was highly philosophical, but for me it was extremely thought provocking. “Mama” you exclaimed, “I’m becoming a man, look at all the hair on the back of my legs!” At first I thought it was funny, but as I began to roll that around in my mind, this is what I came up with…

Baby, it is not the amount of hair on the back of your legs, or anywhere else for that matter, that determines your manhood. It is more a matter of the amount of character inside of you…your spirit, your heart, your soul. For I have known of many “boys” who were far older, taller, and hairier than you. Many with children of their own. Many who may never grow up.

You, my son, will never be one of these. Your Father in Heaven, and the prayer I cover you with nightly, guarantees me that. The father you have here on earth, the one who works so hard for his family, the one who smiles at you when you are not looking, he also guarantees me that. The words we spill into you daily…God, love, respect of self and others, responsibility (and of course other types of words like disease, pregnancy, smoking, drugs, etc.), these words have to make a difference too, right? Lord Jesus, I’m counting on it.

Well, I held your little brother, D’Lo, in my arms last night. I buried my face into his little neck and he wrapped his tiny arms around mine. I inhaled him deeply and upon opening my eyes to his long, curly hair in my face, I traveled through time and, for just a moment, it was you I held so close to me. It was you, where it seems you just were, at almost two years of age. I grabbed as much of that moment as I could, as the tears fell from my eyes, before I allowed myself to be snapped back to real time.

I am so proud of you Angel. Not only because of the little child you were, not just because of the obnoxious teenager you are now…but also because of the great man God will, ultimately, have you become…