Boys

The past few years have been a different kind of difficult than I could've expected. While I think I have made (relative) peace with my widowhood most days, I recognize that other areas of life have been very difficult. Solo parenting a tween, teen, and an adult simultaneously is a very different stage--and a difficult one. In some ways it has been amazing, and in other ways more challenging than I would prefer to deal. Every once in a while, the boys do something amazing in my eyes that reminds me how grateful I am for their goodness. This morning was one of those times. I was dropping Spencer off to school for early morning jazz band. The sky was beautiful as only a Nebraska sky can provide. Streaks of varigated pink exanded across the sky as the sunrise enveloped the morning. Spencer got out of our van and I creeped along through the parking lot, waiting to be sure he got into the school. Only, there was a male teacher coming into the school behind him. Despite his load of his much-too-stuffed backpack and his electric guitar case in hand, he did what I would hope that he would do--open the door for the teacher and wait until the teacher had entered the school. It's silly, really. It isn't something super monumental. But there are moments when I am grateful to be Spencer's mom. Despite the birth order and age-related sibling struggles that exist in our home, despite their knuckheaded behavior, I know that I have good boys. I am a blessed woman. I said a prayer of gratitude as I drove away. I thanked Heavenly Father that my boys are alive. My mind trailed, thinking of friends who have lost their children to various illnesses and accidents. I felt a little guilty that I can complain about the difficulty of these boys at times. I do not understand why things ended up the way they did in the crash and that they lived, but I am grateful that I have these boys to teach me everyday. I pray that I will always remember that they give me the opportunity to learn, if I but choose.