Doors

Dr. Chandler warned me... there will be doors

CLOSED doors

There would come a time (and we are here) that you would push away.  I wouldn't be needed, or wanted, or looked at other than the eye roll or the occasional *sigh*

We're there.  You are just down the hall - but you are SO far.

Yet, I feel moments.  Moments that I'm not completely annoying and you aren't completely in another world. But you are far.  I ask and you give very minimal details. I laugh and you tell me I'm making a big deal or nothing OR that wasn't supposed to be funny. Every move I make is "wrong" but you are talking to me. And I am grateful.

The door is there.  It's closed. But it's somehow closer. But I miss you.

Sometimes I sit and wait for you to ask for something.  For help. Tonight you wanted popcorn and ice cream vs. "I'll make my own snack".  There is something SO amazing about your child fending for themselves, forging their own way.  But it's REALLY amazing when you CAN make your own way, but you ask me instead.

Door closed. Door closer.

I know it's not forever.  But the last year has been LONG. I miss your giggle. Playing cheetah, please tuck me in, "Mommy I hold you" and AYE-YOOOOU mama (I love you Mama). I miss it.
But I have no regrets. I didn't miss it.  I didn't miss a thing. I cheered at the games. I prayed, I cried, I hugged and laughed and stomped in he puddles. I was THERE.  So... for now... I wait.And every once in a while, the door cracks open.  You invite me in... to the little things and the big things.  And I'm careful not to say too much. Or ask too much. Or be too loud. Or stare.  Because inch by inch you are finding balance.  It will be tricky.  The norm is to push me away and the norm for me is to hold too tightly. Lord Jesus, help me have self control enough to let him spread his wings and fly.

Help me to walk into the cracked open doors in a healthy and happy way. May I give advice when asked, and listen when needed and to NOT confuse the two.  Tristan has to forge his own path... and I get a front row seat. Help me to smile and support and just be.

And when I'm allowed to engage, may I engage fully and soak up every single blessed minute of being your mom.  It's a small window that you are "mine".  Lord forgive me where I have made mistakes. Watch over Tristan and draw him to You. He has to have his own faith and his own relationship with You May my life (warts and all) be an example.

Thank you for the gift of being Tristan Barber's mom.  It's the greatest accomplishment of my life.

Love and protect him where I cannot and help me stay out of Your way.

Amen.