Dear Jack,
You are so lucky to have me.
I know that I sound vainglorious and
haughty when I say that, but it's true. You really are so fortunate to have a mother who cares and loves you as much as I do. Plus, I'm smart, I'm compassionate, I'm hard working and I pour so much of myself into trying to shape the kind of person you'll become. And, I pray like a maniac for you every day. On top of all of that, you have a father who often exceeds me in these areas. We're certainly not perfect, but when it comes to parents, you really did luck out.
You can rest assured that we'll remind you of this a lot over the next, oh, 30 - 40 years, and I'm pretty sure that you'll roll your eyes as we do. But I want you to know that if you're ever looking for tangible evidence of God's grace in your life, you can look to us and our unconditional love for you . . . even when we're being tested by your twoness.
Of course, the flip side of things is that we don't deserve really deserve to have a son as great as you. We've never done anything in our lives to warrant a child as fantastic as you are. When I look at you, I'm reminded that God is gracious. Sometimes, even now, your dad and I will look at each other and just shake our heads in disbelief over the fact that God gave us you. One of us will usually say something like, "Can you believe he's really our kid?!"
We still go into you room every night to check on you. Sometimes, I kiss your forehead. Sometimes I just straighten your hair with my fingers. Your dad usually straightens your covers and flips your pillow if it's too sweaty. But mostly, I just look at you and pray that you'll continue to grow into the man God wants you to be.
And you are doing just that . . . growing. Physically, mentally, spiritually. I can't keep up.
Over the last two weeks, you've begun to realize that there are better ways to get what you want than screaming and crying. Your favorite way of doing this is to tell us what we
should do. For instance, you walked into my office earlier this week and said, "Mama, you
should come out and play with me." You told your grandma, "You
should take me on a golf cart ride." At dinner, you'll tell people, "You
should sit wif us." You went upstairs this morning and told your dad, "There's a spider downstairs. You
should go get it."
Sometimes, you still break down into the occasional tantrum when we don't do what you think we
should do, but they're becoming a tad less frequent. This week, I've told you "no" a couple of times and you've just looked up at me and said, "Ok, Mama." It was stunning and was almost enough to make me give you what you were asking for just because I was so happy with your compliance. We still have (A LOT) of time outs, and you still throw fits . . . but they're starting to wane as you realize that they'll do nothing for you.
I love watching you grow spiritually, too. You tell us often about how God lives in your heart and every time I'm tempted to wonder if you
really know what that means, I feel God questioning me as to whether anyone can
really grasp all it means. Tonight at bedtime I said, "Jack, do you want to pray?" You've said, "no" the last few nights and I've just respected that and we haven't prayed. But tonight you said, "No . . . I want to just talk to Jesus." And that's exactly what you did.
We love you more than I can explain, Jack. You and your dad and I . . . we're all so blessed to have each other.
Love,
Mama
