Today I celebrate motherhood...approximately 25 years of motherhood. Well, actually longer when you count all the nonpaternal humans I have mothered. Every year is just seen as another day to celebrate a Hallmark Calendar event but this years feels different. Why? Because I am two islands away from my very independent son. Which makes me more alive to the reality that I am a mother. That I have a mother. That mothers are women to be honored, cherished, revered, blessed, toasted, remembered everyday.
I am a mother that was blessed with the colossial task of raising a son as a single parent. There is not a day that passes me by that I don't think about my son, look at his picture on my screen saver, brag about him to willing listeners, yearn to converse with him, long for his presence, worry for him, consider him. I often ponder if he feels the synergy of my energy? Does he really know how much I love him?
My son's name is Christian. He is a purpose of profound thoughtfulness and gifting from my Father in Heaven. Hence, this is why I very thoughtfully gave him his name. He was and still is a beacon of hope that points me towards all that is good in this world. That which I put my hope and trust in; Jesus Christ.
I was first introduced to Christian while sitting on my father and stepmothers second hand couch in the beginning of the summer of 1987 in Atlantic City, New Jersey. I happen to mention that I was riddled with nausea recently. That declaration incited a wave of comments and a strained response of hidden elation from my stepmother as she quickly concluded that I must be pregnant. That notion was immediately received with fear and interest as I took a deep breath of contemplation. I don't think there was even a drop of doubt. Somehow I instinctively seemed to know this fact. But bringing it alive verbally, consummated its possible reality. This very day is one I remember with clarity; as if it was yesterday. There was restrained excitement as I was directed to get a pregnancy test immediately only to confirm what I already considered.
He introduced himself with the sickness of the mornings. From the first throws of nausea to his adult life, we have been riding the waves of life together.
I am a mother that was blessed with the colossial task of raising a son as a single parent. There is not a day that passes me by that I don't think about my son, look at his picture on my screen saver, brag about him to willing listeners, yearn to converse with him, long for his presence, worry for him, consider him. I often ponder if he feels the synergy of my energy? Does he really know how much I love him?
My son's name is Christian. He is a purpose of profound thoughtfulness and gifting from my Father in Heaven. Hence, this is why I very thoughtfully gave him his name. He was and still is a beacon of hope that points me towards all that is good in this world. That which I put my hope and trust in; Jesus Christ.
I was first introduced to Christian while sitting on my father and stepmothers second hand couch in the beginning of the summer of 1987 in Atlantic City, New Jersey. I happen to mention that I was riddled with nausea recently. That declaration incited a wave of comments and a strained response of hidden elation from my stepmother as she quickly concluded that I must be pregnant. That notion was immediately received with fear and interest as I took a deep breath of contemplation. I don't think there was even a drop of doubt. Somehow I instinctively seemed to know this fact. But bringing it alive verbally, consummated its possible reality. This very day is one I remember with clarity; as if it was yesterday. There was restrained excitement as I was directed to get a pregnancy test immediately only to confirm what I already considered.
He introduced himself with the sickness of the mornings. From the first throws of nausea to his adult life, we have been riding the waves of life together.
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