To My Teenage Son on Valentine's Day

To My Teenage Son on Valentine's Day

From Mom (on paper because words don't say it right)

It's hard to watch a struggle.  It's hard to watch a butterfly wrestle out of its cocoon.  But the struggle means new life is being born.  Without the struggle, there would be stillness and sameness and death.

Right now I see you, Butterfly. 

I see you struggling and wrestling your way out of boyhood into manhood.  You will likely not believe me now and maybe not for years, but I love you through this.  I hate it, but I love you. 

I love you through the grimace on your face, through the tension and strain of your muscles, through your clenched fists, through the smolder in your eyes, and through the fight against the arms that want to hold you:  mine and God's. 

I love you even though you do not understand yet that my arms don't want to hold you back.  They just want to hold you. 

I love you even though you may never read this, and if you do read it, you may not understand it at all.   

I love you for the little blond, blue-eyed ray of sunshine that you were.  And I love you because when you finally break free of this cocoon, you will be a strong, bold, golden lion of a young man.  I see you, and I believe this. 

I love you because I believe you have the Holy Spirit deep down in you, and I believe the words of Romans 8:  "And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit," for it is only God who transforms the caterpillar into the butterfly. 

I see you, Butterfly. 

I see you struggle, and it scares me.  I see you struggle, and it makes me angry.  I see you struggle, and it hurts me. 

I see you struggle, but I believe Life will win, because God has a purpose for you, my dear Butterfly.   

Only God has eyes who can see the little caterpillar, oceans and worlds away, small and precious and lost, yet brave and cheerful and ready for anything.   

Only God can pluck up that little caterpillar, shelter him in His hands, and settle him down in a new tree across the ocean where he will learn, grow, prepare, and wrap himself in the dark cocoon that will begin his transformation into a new creation of joy and purpose. 

Only God knows the colors of your wings, Butterfly.  I do not.  You do not.  Only God.   

Entrust yourself to Him until this struggle is over.  He will not grow weary, though you and I both already have. 

Resist the darkness.  Fight!  Fight against the darkness, and focus on the light outside that cocoon, for that is truly what you are struggling toward.   

Refuse the darkness.  It will flee from you, and you will be born free. 

Butterfly, you will be a new man:  whole and strong and brilliant. 

I see you, Butterfly. 

I love you because there is no one else like you. 

I see that you, more than any other kid I know, are gifted with the perfect combination of excitement, curiosity, physical beauty, friendliness, humor, and spirit.  

Your smile is amazing, Butterfly.  When it lights up your face, it could slay the entire army of darkness all at once. 

These are some of the colors of your wings.  No one else is like you.   

Fight the darkness for this, to God's glory.  Fight through the cocoon.  The fight is making your wings stronger. 

I am here.  I love you.  I am proud of you, Butterfly.  I am cheering for you in your struggle.  I am waiting for you, Butterfly. 

I am sorry for the times I have failed you, and I am sorry I cannot seem to say these words out loud to you.  I am sorry that often the words I do say do more harm than good.

I, myself, am more of a moth than a butterfly.  Though even moths have their purpose, I will never be what you will be.  You, Butterfly, are bright and brilliant and strong. 

I see you.   

Even if you read all of this and cannot believe me, hang on to it. 

I still love you.

 

Mom 

 

ErinRMS

2/14/2013