Thanksgiving

My life has been a series of events, some joyful and easy and others difficult and painful.  I am sure that is true of every person on the planet.  One thing I can say, that is not true for everyone, is that every one of those events have blessed me.  I didn't always know it and I could not see how that was always possible at the time, but I can honestly say that is an absolute truth in my life.  At times I did not know how I was blessed by something until years after it happened.  Some events felt like they cursed me before I could be thankful for them.  Some things I knew were good for me, even though I didn't want them to happen.  They all have left a kind of imprint on me, they have shaped me and made me who I am today.

I hear people say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  The flip side of that is sometimes you have to be broken in order to be fixed.  When your heart breaks, it feels like it will never be fixed.  Even the fix may leave an ache, sort of like when you break a bone you are left with some arthritis.  It doesn't mean that it isn't as strong or stronger than before, it just means that you have an ache to remind you of that trauma.  I am thankful for my aches, they mean I have lived life and I have risked things and I can be more loving and empathetic to others because of it.

My heart is heavy right now.  My son had his heart broken today.  I hurt for him and I hurt because I loved the girl I thought would be my daughter-in-law.  I didn't realize that it had been 3 months since I wrote about my son, R.  Time has gotten away from me, it seems that the days are speeding by at a breakneck pace.  Some days I scramble to get everything done, most days it just doesn't happen.  Okay, that is my excuse (whine) for not writing. 

I am thankful for my son R.  I am thankful for both of my sons, but he is special to me.  He is my baby (though he hates it when I refer to him that way).  He is my unplanned child, he came at an extremely difficult time in my life, I thought of aborting him, our relationship was tumultuous from the start.  Early in my pregnancy, when I was debating what to do, I almost miscarried.  In a split second, I went from wondering if I should terminate the pregnancy to knowing I wanted him.  Despite being my second child, the pregnancy was high risk and difficult and the birth was long, drawn out and hard.  From the time he was a toddler on, he was fiercely independent, I felt he didn't really need me.  I have outlined the trials and hardships of his teenage years here in earlier posts.  Maybe because we fought so hard, both for each other and against each other, we are very close and protective of each other.  We are understanding and tolerate each other.  He is a blessing and a joy to me every day.  To say I am proud of him doesn't even scratch the surface of what I feel.  He is amazing.  I marvel at his mind, his wit, his love of life and his tender heart.  He is a loving son, a loyal friend, a hard working employee.  He gives second chances, because he has been given second chances.  He forgives, because he has been forgiven.  He tolerates and overlooks faults and flaws, because he acknowledges his.  I hurt for him and with him, but I know he will be okay.  He has been hurt before and he will probably be hurt again and I am sure he will keep an open heart. 

As his mother, I want to fix things.  I want to mend the hurt and make it okay.  That is much easier when your children are 3, than 23.  So instead, I love him and I am here for him and I tell him I understand (because I do).  I hope that he sees the blessing in all of these things and that one day he will be able to be thankful for them.