I had a really wonderful talk with my son the other day. He’s 22 now, and a husband and a father. Life is not yet a smooth path before him (but then, when is it for any of us?) Something about that conversation reminded me of this one …
“Hi, Mom,” I hear. A man’s voice, and not my son’s, comes crackling through the phone.
I scooch up higher in bed, hoping the extra few inches will land me in that elusive current of “Yes, I can hear you now.” It works.
We’d spoken earlier in the day, when his father and I had walked together down a long gray strip in a tunnel of sun-flecked firs. He’d sounded cranky then. Bible college has its moments.
“Sorry about earlier,” he tells me now. “There’s a lot of warfare down here. I didn’t mean to be so crabby.”
Warfare. Like migrating birds and winds and well-wishes, warfare honors no borders. Its arms are long and unhindered, its claws hungry for flesh.
We swap war stories for a minute. And then my boy begins ministering. “Read Psalms 7, Mom. The whole thing.” Without the benefit of his Bible, he quotes words that pierce and burrow, soothe and heal.
This is the child who once doubted. This is the boy I’ve dreamed giant dreams for, prayed mountainous prayers over.
“I’ll be praying for you, Mom,” he says, after we’ve spent the better part of an hour talking about God, and His goodness, our worship of Him, and the new work He’s doing in our midst.
“Goodnight, honey,” I tell them all: the man he is this moment, the man he’ll be tomorrow, and the boy still there — the boy who would fall asleep to my half-whispered songs.
Beautiful, beautiful
Jesus is beautiful
And Jesus makes beautiful things of my life
Carefully watching me
Causing my eyes to see
That Jesus makes beautiful things of my life
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What a beautiful post, Shannon. I’m new to your blog. Pam of Writing Apples of Gold receommended your site. I look forward to reading more from you.
Thank you so much, Diane! It’s nice to meet you 🙂
Tears are in my eyes again… after reading all your stories about Zac growing up these past few years, it’s so beautiful to see the man he has become.
It is a blessing to us too! It’s so true that what we plant in them when they’re little never really leaves … sometimes it just takes awhile to resurface. 🙂
Crying happy, sad, weary, hopeful Mom tears after reading this…what tears we cry as Moms of grown up sons…personal battles as He refines us even now..through the eyes of our sons…makes me wonder about Mary’s heart..her battles..her tears..we’ll never know about that to that extent that she went through..her battles..I won’t even go there..doesn’t bear thinking almost..the preciousness of our relationship with our sons..one of our hearts mysteries..<3
So well said, Anita! <3
I just stumbled upon your blog…such thoughtful and heart provoking writing. I can’t help but shed tears as I work my way through your many posts. What an unexpected journey I’ve taken as a result of not being able to sleep. Thank you for the story you shared about your son, it’s beautiful. BTW, I love that song. I think it was the first song I learned to sing as a new believer way back in 1983 at CC Spokane. I live in KY now.
p.s. I ordered your book, Inconceivable, on Amazon this morning.
Sue! I’ve been so busy the past few weeks, I haven’t been able to blog at all. Just saw your comment … thank you. 🙂 I only just recently learned that Pastor Chuck used to sing this song at church (someone mentioned it on another blog). I have no idea where I learned it, but it was a favorite of my son’s, and now it’s HIS son’s very favorite song. In fact, when I’m singing Gage to sleep, I’ll do about fifteen repeats of this song, then switch to another — thinking he will be relieved to have some variety — and through sleepy eyes, he’ll correct me. “No, Grandma. Sing Jesus.” <3