If I Forget to Tell you Later...

Those in my generation can probably complete the above quote and name the movie it was from. I was reminded of this line as I dropped my kids off at school today. Ironically, our drive in was particularly uneventful.

When we were leaving the house, I was overloaded with more than I could carry. The boys, without being asked, instinctively reached out to help me carry my bags. As I started the car, I realized I had forgotten something, and Graham ran back into the house for my forgotten item. We traveled most of the way in our normal companionable silence, and in the silence I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude.

When I first held my baby boys I knew I was in love, but I had no idea how very blessed I would feel for the awesome privilege of being their mom. Parenting has been the biggest challenge I have ever encountered, and I have had my share of struggles with feelings of inadequacy, fear, and discouragement. The journey of motherhood is not always a walk in the park, and in many ways, every child is a new experiment in parenting wisdom and techniques. There are no guarantees, no warranties, and no certainties. And still, I wouldn't change a thing.

My boys are well past the days of strollers and playpens. In all the years that I toted their "gear" around, it never occurred to me that they would one day help tote mine. They now choose their own clothes, make their own lunches, and have opinions about the way their hair is cut. They can stay home unsupervised, make plans with friends, and post status updates on Facebook. In many ways, they are independent. And yet...I have the feeling that our job as parents has only just begun to move towards its pinnacle. With the dawn of the teen years, I can hardly stand how completely wonderful it is to have these amazing young men entrusted to us for this time. And just as I did not foresee the helpfulness they would offer me during these years, I also did not foresee the wisdom they would offer.

As a family we have agreed to read the same passages of scripture in our daily devotions and then discuss the passage at dinner. We have started the year by reading through the book of Luke one chapter at a time. Each night, the boys share their thoughts, and I marvel. I marvel at their insights. I marvel at their questions. I marvel that they even read the passage in the first place. And I marvel at what God might do through their reading of His Word.

All of these thoughts were going through my head as I drove my boys to school this morning. When they hopped out of the car, ready to face another day, I found myself wiping tears from cheeks. Tears of gratitude. And then I whispered to them, though they were already gone, "If I forget to tell you later, I had a great time" being your mom.

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