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Image by Arria Belli via Flickr

I will never be able to ade­quately explain that feel­ing of over­whelm­ing love, heart-stopping pride, yet cau­tious con­cern that a mother has for her child. The idea that this “feel­ing” is just a touch of what our Heav­enly Father feels for us dri­ves me crazy. I suck as a child of God. When Grem­lin wraps his arms around my neck and cries mourn­fully because it’s “so hard to have a good heart”, I get it.  I’ve cried that same cry to my “Father”.

The odd thing is Grem­lin has THE biggest heart. I watch him with other boys and if they need encour­age­ment he gives it freely. If there’s a boy that’s get­ting out of line, he’ll casu­ally say, “Hey, let’s not do/say that. C’mon, let’s play!”

He’s such a fear­less boy; obvi­ous by the count­less scars on his head. So I was suprised last sum­mer when he refused to ride his bike with­out train­ing wheels. I wasn’t going to push the issue, but was admit­tedly frus­trated and dis­ap­pointed when he refused this sum­mer as well. I just knew he was going to enjoy his sum­mer so much more on two wheels vs. four.  But I also knew that he would do it when he was ready.

I should’ve known watch­ing his younger neigh­bor friend take off on two wheels would spark that ‘readi­ness’. Some­times you just need to see a peer do some­thing to get your fire going. We needed to leave for school in 5 min­utes so he jumped on that bike and taught him­self in 2. That lit­tle.….Grem­lin.

I’m so happy for him but it doesn’t seem to scratch the sur­face of how much he’s pleased with him­self.  Last night he leaned over to kiss me good­night from the “big boy” top bunk of his bed and whis­pered, “You were right all along, Mom. Sorry it took so long for me to lis­ten.”  I gave that lit­tle grem­lin a big ol’ hug right back under­stand­ing where he’s at. After all, I say that to my Heav­enly Father at least ever other week.