Dear young man ...

It was I who first fell in love with you. I fell in love with you before I even met you. I fell in love with you before I even knew you were what I needed at that exact moment. To this day and for all my days that follow, I will always be in love with you.

I remember my first glimpse of you. It was foggy, things were blurred and the room was chaos, but there you were ... As perfect as I ever imagined you'd be.

I could never forget how you left. Neither you nor I had a choice in the matter. I just knew I had to see you again quickly — no matter what it took.

When I saw you again, I could only weep.

But then I touched you, soft and tenderly, just a brush against your skin, but enough to renew my desire to love you until the end of time.

And, then one day, the clouds parted and God's glory rained upon us, and you were mine to hold for the rest of my life.

My life was changed; it was you who changed it.

For the better. For the worse. For the end of my days.

It's hard to believe it has been 16 years since you entered my life.

I can't count the hugs you've given me, or the hugs I've stolen. I couldn't begin to add up the number of times you've made me laugh, smile or even cry. And you'll never know just how many times I've watched you sleep, or stared at you from a distance, knowing it was you who made me who I am.

With your 16th birthday approaching ever so quickly, I can only tell you my heart bursts with joy, pride and love whenever I think of you.

Oh, I worry. And then I pray. About you. For you.

But you've also brought me so much peace.

That's because I know you're a young man who loves his Lord and Savior. I know you're a man of character, trustworthy and true. You work hard, love with loyalty and tease with the spirit of a child.

Your story is only beginning. We are merely a few chapters in, and there's so much more left for you to write. Not me. You. I only wrote the prelude. The rest is up to you.

I know those chapters will be filled with mistakes. The paper will be crumpled, and the pen will run out of ink. But our God will be there, even when I'm not, to make sure the chapters are filled with love and the story will be one worth telling.

Oh, I know my gushiness will turn your cheeks pink. You'll roll your eyes and probably think I've lost my mind. It's OK. I understand. My parents were dorks, too.

Just know it was you who helped shape me into the woman I am today. You allowed me countless trials and errors. But more than anything you taught me how to love children, and I truly believe God's plans for me have always been to love His children.

In Ecclesiastes 3:1, it says: "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens."

In just a few short years, I will have to release you to the world. I won't be able to catch you when you jump out of the nest. I can only pray that you'll fly.

Your potential is infinite as long as you always believe in yourself and trust in the Lord.

As the next few years pass too quickly, you'll just have to pardon me if I love a little stronger. And if you catch me staring, just know I'm merely preserving memories.

I could've never imagined 16 years ago as I cried next to that NICU incubator that the days that followed would pass this quickly. I never pictured that 5-pound baby towering over me, picking me up off the ground or driving out of the driveway on his own.

But here you stand.

A young man.

And I couldn't be prouder of who you've become.

August 14, 1999, changed my life. It made me a mother, and I thank you for that.

I love you.

Sincerely,

Your Biggest Fan

Seeing beyond the teen and finding love

If I were forced to categorize myself, I’d say I’m a Little Kid Person. Teenagers have always kind of confused me, even though I seem to relate to them rather well. I’ve just found myself more adept at handling the wee ones, opting for a tenacious toddler over a smart-aleck teenager any day of the week.

But as I adjust to being the mother of a teenager, I am beginning to think my previous view of teenagers is based merely on what I’ve been used to up until this point. I’ve only been the mother of a teenager for about three months, so I’d say my skewed image isn’t a reality, but more in line with the “I just don’t know any better” realm.

So lately, I’ve been keeping an open mind, opting not to just chalk those years up to a lost, stinky cause that we’ll have to trudge through until we reach the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, I’ve been sitting back, listening and enjoying the newfound world that’s slowly encompassing a portion of my life.

First, I enjoy the independence my teenager possesses. He’s no longer afraid to stay home alone, and actually prefers to stay at the house and watch TV. Let’s just say loading three wiggling children into my SUV only to run to town to drop one off at basketball or football practice is enough of a task without having the oldest one thrown in the mix to instigate.

Speaking of instigating, teenagers are smart enough to do that. Experience has taught them precisely what button to push when in order to instantly send the remaining siblings into a screaming tailspin that leaves parents breathless and begging for mercy. Why? Oh, just because they’re bored.

Well, that is, if we see him. Suddenly the door to his bedroom started closing. It seemed instant. One day, he welcomed visitors to view his world, and the next day, we were barred from entrance. He doesn’t have a lock on his door, so I enter whenever I darn well please, but still, I’ve had to grow used to seeing a paneled barrier where once I would see a little boy sitting among a pile of Lincoln Logs.

And although I do seem to be adjusting to most changes, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to The Glare. You know the look we get when we make them do something they really don’t want to do. Silence almost always accompanies The Glare. The eyelids turn into little slits while fire spews from the millimeter left open. He’s still a boy though so The Glare is usually short-lived.

But the most amazing part of having a teenager has been seeing glimpses of maturity peek through the ashes of childhood.

He understands situations that I’m still unaccustomed to discussing with him, so it surprises me. He sees truth, the way most children unabashedly do, but he understands the truth now. In one recent conversation, I told him of an upcoming happening. He smiled at the excitement of it, but after a few seconds of thought, he saw through the disguise and realized the root of the situation. And without hesitation, he expressed his disdain toward the injustice. I just smiled at him and said, “We don’t have to like what they do, but we’re called to love them. Just remember that.” He nodded with understanding, and we moved on to another conversation.

And the conversations are grand. He pulls me aside now to discuss situations in adult language. And even asked his youth minister about some pretty deep faith-based questions, which shows he not only trusts the adults in his family, but he is being resourceful and candid to others who’ve earned his trust.

It’s a new world for me. And I rather like it. Sure, it’s different, but underneath the surface, there’s still a little boy who captured my heart the instant I met him all those years ago. And that sort of love never changes — it just grows deeper.