I see the look in his eyes after I have unleashed my mother’s fury on him, this boy who tries my patience like no other child. I am frustrated, I am heartbroken, and I am done.
But his eyes, they tell me so much more than this moment being one of rebellion. There’s remorse, pain, fear, and a plea for love and understanding.
I see the look on his face after he brings the house down with his music. Proud, with eyes searching for mine, wanting to know I am proud, too.
This boy, this child of my heart, my firstborn son has the ability to drive me to my knees more often than I have ever before. I long for him to know God, to know he is loved by Him more than he can even imagine.
But his ten year old heart needs to know I love him, too. And in these days where it seems like we are battling wills more often than not, I can see that need growing.
I long to convey God’s love and acceptance to my son, and it starts with my own words and actions.
I go to my son, this child of my heart, and I tell him I am sorry. That I love him. That I am so very, very proud he is mine.
And I see relief and a belief that God loves, too.