He is ours

The following is a reflection about Taylor I wrote last night as I have been thinking about some tough conversations we've had over the last few weeks. 

This helped me to do what God calls us to do often- to remember and give thanks.  

So here's to the roses and thorns that are a part of life with this attempt to embrace them in all their messy glory. 

He is ours.

He was ours when he came into the world with his Muppet smile and when he would reach for my hair and suck his thumb to find his safe place.   

He was ours when he dressed up like Spiderman climbing on everything he could find and when he would sleep tucked in bed with a skateboard or a sword for safekeeping.  He was ours when he loved chocolate dirt cake served in trucks for his birthday and liked nothing better than listening to Jason crafting a story at bedtime just for him.  

He was ours when he spent hours and hours at the library for story time and listened to me read all the Narnia books one summer which sparked a conversation in which he asked God to come into his little heart. 

He was ours when we made a poster for him with ideas of how to cool off when he got upset and when we tried to help him not get mad at Jake when Jake scored a point on the soccer team even though they were on the same preschool soccer team.  

He was ours when he built fantastic Lego creations and when he discovered that I was the tooth fairy because I mistakenly took his quarter off the counter and put it under Anna’s pillow and was caught red-handed.  (There went the Easter bunny and Santa too all in one fell swoop.)

He was ours when he asked Jason the question before he was going to bed when he was six, “Do you know the best places to hide when you don’t want to go to school?” and when he dug in his heels and I practically had to carry him down the trail in the Smoky Mountains because he was done with hiking.  

He was ours when he won the Pinewood Derby in Knoxville and when he lost his temper in a lacrosse game in Seattle.   He was ours with his many phases of attire: wearing only superhero costumes at one point and only pajamas at another followed by only wearing long sleeved shirts and long pants in the heat of summer in Nashville or refusing to wear anything but shorts in the 40 degree winters here in Seattle.

He was ours when he shared from the Bible in Kenya in village churches with confidence and poise and had profound things to say in our large group IV meetings and he was ours when he was sick of Kenyan food and just wanted to have a burger again and the comforts of home.  He was ours when he was scared of the scorpion he saw in Lodwar one night, and he was ours when he was thrown into the Indian Ocean by the college students who loved him to pieces on the trip.

He was ours when he jumped into middle school with bleach blonde hair trying to find identity and belonging in a new place.  He was ours when he made it to the Green team for Celtic and felt like a million bucks, and he was ours when tears streamed down his face when he lost a game. He was ours when he made great new friends at Eckstein, and he was ours when he hurt an old friend’s feelings and seemed to clash with him each time they got together over one thing or another.

He was ours at times when he was the one at the table to ask me about my day and when he was the one who wrote me a note to encourage me in my race, and he was ours at times when his anger pushed us away and it seemed hard to know how to hug our little porcupine. 

The very moments when I most want to push away from him are the signs that I need to draw the very closest to him. I am learning slowly but surely. He is teaching me about love and grace in the wonder and wildness of it all, and God is parenting me and bringing me to maturity (slowly but surely) as I am parenting and growing up through it all. 

He is ours, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.