He’s the size of a lumberjack but I still see the little boy. He is a man of few words, so when he speaks, I listen. And when I speak, I’m never sure if he’s listening
If you feel similarly, maybe consider writing it down.
I wrote him a good-bye letter as he prepares to venture out on his own. Hopefully, to always know where to call Home. How-To-Let-Go gracefully to the ones you love. I’m pretty sure they have a book somewhere about this. . . But we remember music. And The Cat’s in the Cradle isn’t helping any of us—so, no thank you Harry Chapin. But every time we’ve ever let go, it’s then, that we find Life. So, I Let Go and Let God.
I wanted to tell you thank you. Thank you for being patient and funny and kind to this mom of yours. I’m so grateful God chose me out of all the moms –to be yours. You have been and continue to be a total Joy in my life.
I sometimes feel badly we haven’t had more fun experiences with you before you leave us. And then I remember, Salem, Virginia hikes along the Blue Ridge Parkway followed by fried chicken dinners, pulling you along in your little blue plastic sled in Roanoke in the foot and half snow, trips to Hot Springs, Rappahannock River boat rides, Stratford Hall and Williamsburg, fishing trips, camping and getting the heck out of dodge just before the thunderstorm at Enchanted Rock, Seattle to Miracle Ranch, Christmas in the camper to Georgia, swimming with Manatees, Disney, Community First Village, Ms. Penny and Food Runs in the Golf Cart, dealing with Job loss by moving to the Beach. . .
I have no doubt that God used you to save our family on more than one occasion. There were many of nights in Tappahannock when things had gotten really hard for us that I would crawl in your bed beside you. Some nights you would still be awake and we would read from the Tickle Monster Book and I would put the Tickle Monster Glove on my hand and it always made you laugh so hard— you may just very well be more ticklish than me! Other nights, I would squeeze in beside you, listen to you breathe, tell God Thank you for another day with you and only then, have peace enough in that moment to fall asleep. Again, you saved us when we moved to Austin. The move was hard for all of us –especially with the girls both being in diapers and dad staying home.
Life is hard and can be brutal—But God is good. We won’t be here forever—although I wish we never had to leave one another—I know it’s not how this works. My prayer is that you not lean in to yourself—when you feel lonely, feel unworthy, feel unaccomplished, feel small, lost, broken or least and that you will always recognize how much you need a Savior. “If you are never uncomfortable, weary, left out and un-praised how will you recognize the desolate? And if you are never desolate how will you recognize how much you need a Savior?” My prayer for you, sweetest boy, is that you see God everywhere and in everything.
You’re about as tall as your dad now. You speak in a rumbly-low voice and keep tabs on your growing facial hair. You’re compassionate and adventurous who consistently demonstrates integrity and courage. You’re one of the wittiest in the room and an effortless leader within your peer groups.
I couldn’t be more proud of you.
I love you so much,
If you have kids that have already left home, it’s not too late to tell them all the things. If they’re younger, you can start writing and add to your letter each year.
Big hugs and tissues to you,
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