05.13.17 – An Open Letter To My Grown Boys: I Miss You, By Christy Mobley

Saturday, May 13, 2017 – I did not write this article, however the parallels between my life, and feelings about my sons, are amazing.  I have my own version of each of the photos in this article.  My sons are in their 30s now and I hope both of them will get to read this.  I love you both dearly.  It’s a different love than when you were boys. but it is just as deep.

Life is very different than it was 20 or more years ago.  This description I believe will touch a place in the hearts of many mothers of older children, specifically sons. God bless all the Mother’s out there this Mother’s Day Weekend!

This mama’s letter to her grown sons is heart-wrenchingly beautiful! May we all have such grace to let them go when the time comes.  Here we go!

I can’t believe it’s been 5 months since your Meemaw left this world. We’re still clearing out her condo where the stored memories linger.

And among those are pictures…loads of them.

Pictures of friends, relatives, weddings, birthdays, Thanksgivings and Christmases past.
A trip back in time to days forgotten. The good, the bad, and oh so ugly…
Pop-Pop loved to catch us in the worst possible moments and Meemaw kept them all to savor or perhaps for torture.

But the photos that burned my eyes and stirred my heart were the screen shots of my little men.

Toe-headed scoundrels playing in the mud with bare bodies and Sunday shoes.
Practicing future Olympians on a backyard swing set.
Little boys cuddled sweetly in Meemaw’s lap after a nap.

I miss you.

And to be honest, when the normal busy of the day gets tucked away and I’m ready for sleep…sometimes my heart will ache with the miss.

It aches for tiny arms stretching around my neck to squeeze the ever lovin’ life out of me.
It aches to hear chipmunk-like voices say, “Mommy, I love you more than anything in the world.”
It aches for the heart to heart talks about problems only a mama can solve.

It aches for the excitement of new toys on a Christmas morning and a first time visit to Disney World.

Yes, it aches for the T-ball all the way to middle school baseball games—hearing you recount the home run, the awesome catch, how you won or should have won when you didn’t.

I miss you.

The pickup trucks lined in the driveway and up and down the street. The endless, sleepovers and sleepless nights waiting up for you. The sneakiness. The mischief that came with teenage years.

I miss you.

I miss your smell. I miss your presence.

But most of all, I miss how you loved me.

It’s not that you love me less. I know you don’t.

It’s just different. It has to be.

You’re all grown up and married. And I love who you’ve chosen for your forever.

I’m caught here in a strange place.

I can’t be your buddy like your Dad. I can’t be on your frontline like I once was. That place is for your lovely wife—my new daughter.

So now I take my place on the sidelines. And from here I will not miss a chance to cheer you both on.

But it doesn’t stop the ache. The missing.

Motherhood is a bit of a conundrum in that way—a position where joy and heartache mingle together on a daily basis.

But the blessing far outweighs the pain.

I miss you but please don’t misunderstand me.

I don’t want you back.

I’ve always known you were a gift from the Lord and were not mine to keep. But I didn’t realize our time would pass this swiftly.

I love who you’ve become but my job is done. I pray that you’ve learned some good from me, but more so I pray for God to give you discernment to throw out the bad.

I don’t want to be intrusive in your life or rob you of the joy you share with your wife. You belong to her in every way. And I don’t want to mess that up.

You’ve blessed me with a daughter I didn’t have. I want her to know I’m not competing for you or with her and I’m not judging her every move. Oh, quite the opposite.

I want to be her champion.

Her safe place.

Her friend.

But I didn’t raise her and I know only time and experience can grow the tender seed of trust. Such a relationship takes seasons to build.

So I will build. I will love. I will wait.

And even then,

I know there will always be those days after the busy gets tucked away and I’m ready for bed, when screen shots of little boys at play will flash through my head.

And I’ll find myself missing you.

“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:27-28

Looking forward, pressing on, seeking God.

By Christy Mobley
Christy is a girly girl who chases tennis balls for recreation and at the end of the day does her best thinking in the tub. She’s also a wife, mother, mother-in-law, mentor, and Life Purpose Coach. Her passion is to encourage women to move forward, and press on while seeking God’s presence in every bump and turn in the road. You can find Christy at Joying in the Journey christymobley.com, Twitter, and Facebook

Tomorrow I will share a tribute to my amazing mama, Josie Mae Blum Traylor.  Ya’ll come back now, ya’ hear!

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Click on the links below to go there!

Wacky Wonderful Wednesdays published on Wednesdays

Some Things I Learned About Dementia published randomly

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