“I Remembered Who I Am.”

If you had been a fly on the wall almost 42 years ago and had heard the details of the life map these two newlyweds were planning, you’d have been jealous. Dual careers with plenty of discretionary income to travel and enjoy life – wow! And around ten years into our marriage, we’d start a family, with me becoming a stay-at-home mom. We had the perfect plan.

But as you know, man plans. God laughs. And so He did.

Six weeks before I walked the stage at Texas Tech University, we found out we were expecting. Can you say “plot twist?” This new development sent us scrambling to reconfigure how life would play out with a baby factored in.

Pivots were made in terms of careers and finances. My husband, ever the accountant, played out multiple budget scenarios. We switched into family mode when making purchases and focused on practicality. But when that hot summer day came that those 22- and 24-year-old kids welcomed their newborn son into the world, there wasn’t an ounce of practicality to be found. We were a puddle of parental love.

We stared at our precious baby boy, astonished that a couple of kids like us could be entrusted with such an amazing gift from God. Two days later, we drove him home from the hospital, seriously wondering if we could even keep him alive.

By the grace of God, we did indeed keep him alive. In fact, he thrived. He was an easy baby – no feeding issues, a lover of naps and a good night’s sleep, a head covered in peach fuzz that grew into golden angel curls, and chubby cheeks accented by cute little dimples.

That parental love I mentioned earlier? I had an especially strong case of it, and the thought of leaving this little guy at daycare while I went to work was more than my young mama heart could bear. I cried every time I thought about it. So my sweet honey pulled out his pencil and paper and figured out a way for a young accountant’s salary to cover the expenses of a little family of three. There were lots of pennies pinched and belts tightened, but God bless him – he made it work.

Little buddy eventually became a big brother, and he (mostly) adored our second son. There were the normal squabbles and days when I wondered if I was really cut out for the boy mom life. But then I’d randomly pass by their room to see them collaborating on some big Lego project or I’d catch them brother-snuggling on the couch while they watched a movie.

We did what we knew to do to teach them about Jesus. We were involved in serving at our church, and the boys had a second family in the families with which God had surrounded us there. On April 28, 1996, both of the boys were baptized and celebrated by church family and friends. Our little family of four was a sweet team, and I was grateful to the Lord for the good life we’d been given.

Then right before our older son’s junior year in high school, the wheels started to wobble a little. By mid-fall, the wheels had fallen completely off. Our compliant, easy-going, teacher’s pet had switched gears to full rebellion mode. No longer did he listen to (let alone, obey) his dad and me, but the still, small voice of God was drowned out by the influences of friends, alcohol, and the world. This was just the beginning of too many loud arguments, slammed doors, and long nights of worry and prayer.

Never in my life had I been so raw and honest with God. I replayed in my mind every foolish parenting fail and discipline mistake. I lamented the ways that I felt I hadn’t lived up to my responsibilities. I second-guessed everything I’d done, wondering if a too-young mama ever even had a chance to raise a good kid.

In response, God was raw and honest with me. He acknowledged that yes, I was responsible for raising up this boy. And yes, my failures and mistakes were exactly that – but they had been forgiven and paid for by Jesus on the cross. The control I was fighting to maintain over my son’s life was a futile battle because - as God reminded me - He was in control. He told me to drop the pen and stop trying to write my boy’s story.

While I had imagined that I was writing his story, it was always the Lord. His story was running parallel to my own, and it always had been. While elements of our stories intermingled in places, his story was always being written not by his mama, but by his God.

He went off to college and excelled academically. The partying continued, but he was far from home and far from our influence. Strangely, our home was once again peaceful. The turmoil of constant conflict had evaporated when he drove away to school.

I prayed for him but refused to beg, bargain or enable. I reasoned that the father of the prodigal son waited for his boy but never went out looking for him to bring him home. This father was confident that his son knew God’s ways, and I was confident about that for my boy, too. So like that dad, I waited for him to figure it out.

And he did.

One night, he called me and said, “Mom, I remembered who I am. I’m so sorry.” I can’t tell you how long that conversation lasted or everything that was said, but to say that we turned a corner would be an understatement. God had been putting a miracle together, and that night was the big reveal.

 I wasn’t the perfect mom after that night, and he wasn’t the perfect son. But now we both understood in a fresh way that we were just two sinners saved by grace – grateful to have our relationship reconciled by the Lord.

My boy sent me a birthday note the next year, telling me I was one of his best friends. And I could honestly say the same about him.

Today is a milestone birthday for that baby boy with angel curls and deep dimples. I’m so grateful to God for all that He’s taught me as that boy’s mama, and I’m especially thankful that he grew up to be one of my besties. Happy birthday, kiddo! I’ll always love you!

(I have lots of friends who love Jesus, and even though they’ve raised their kids to know and love Jesus, too, their kids have rejected Him. If that’s your story, never stop praying for your prodigal. As much as you love that child, God loves him or her infinitely more. As long as there’s breath, there’s hope, and God is relentless in pursuit of your child’s heart.)

*****

“Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from Him.” – Psalm 127:3

“So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” – Luke 15:20

“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” – Proverbs 22:6