To my teenager on picture day: I know you hate getting your
picture taken. I know you think picture day is stupid. I get that you would
much rather wear your baseball jersey and athletic shorts to school today than
clothes that are a little nicer looking but far less comfortable.
Here’s the
thing, though. For the past 15 years, God's primary calling on my life has been caring for and raising my kids. Your smiles, laughter, silly stories, milestones, accomplishments,
heart-to-heart talks… these are what have made my life so wonderful since you
came into it. The little munchkin voice that used to chatter away at me is now
so deep and grown-up sounding. That curly-haired boy who used to cuddle up next
to me or climb into my lap is taller than I am, and becoming more of a man with each
passing year.
Yes, I love watching you grow, and it brings me unbelievable joy
to see you becoming the young man God is shaping you to be. I treasure this
stage of life just as much as I have treasured each stage of your growth along
the way. But you must try to understand something. Every thing you have learned
to do on your own, every time you have accomplished something without needing
me, my heart has swelled with such pride in you. Yet, at the very same time,
there is a feeling of loss that comes with each step you take toward
independence.
All too soon you will be on your own, and your priorities will
shift to your own family. As they should. And I will learn how to be the mother
you need for each new phase of your life. But you must allow me the pleasure of
looking back at those pictures of you and recalling the joys of these years.
When I sat in the hospital with your grandmother during her last days of life,
she kept reaching for the picture of her grandchildren. She would point to each
one of you and smile. Pictures matter. They are not stupid or meaningless.
Sometimes, they are everything. So, please, indulge your mother with a nice
shirt and a genuine smile on picture day.
Remember, I cook your dinner every
evening.
