March 17, 1988, was a super important day in my life. I became a mom to my first son, Brandon Kent. There hasn’t been a dull moment since.
Almost immediately, he challenged my ideas. He was incredibly smart, very active, and a genuinely very happy kiddo. Becoming a mom during my senior year of high school while also being married and working, obviously, wasn’t easy. But he made the mom part quite a bit easier.
Academics and athletics were next on our timeline. He excelled in school and every sport he played. Generally speaking, he was the smallest everywhere he went. But size didn’t always matter when you were smart or fast or in some other way were able to stand out. He loved music and found his voice at a very young age (especially channeling his inner Garth Brooks). Watching him find joy in everything from singing to writing assignments to every sport he played and every camp he attended was what any mom would hope for.
When he turned eight years old, he became a big brother. He instantly adapted to that role and loved every minute. Protective and watchful, he took the responsibility very seriously.
Life at home wasn’t the greatest; not for me and certainly not for the boys. But when you’re in the middle of the turmoil, it’s nearly impossible to envision or consider a way out. At the time, I also had no idea how negatively they were being impacted by the actions around them. To some, that seems like a ridiculous statement. Parents are supposed to know these things. But here I am, saying I really didn’t comprehend.
Around the age of sixteen, Brandon decided that life at my house was too restrictive. Too many rules. He left. And nothing has been the same since. There have been many times of happiness and hope for greater things. Giving me granddaughters who call me Mimi has been the BEST! But the tears have also been profound.
A blog isn’t the place right now for me to air the dirty details of the past twenty-two years. That doesn’t help anyone. I’ve claimed ownership of my failures and where I made wrong choices that impacted others. Many others have not. Maybe they never will. God’s showing me how to navigate that. I’ll just keep praying about it and trust that His timing is always better than mine.
Regardless of good, bad, worse, and everything in between, I’m still mom to Brandon. I would still lay my life down for him. He’s still made in the image of His Creator, God. And he still has value and worth. I didn’t get to see him or talk to him yesterday on his thirty-eighth birthday. Truth be told, I don’t even know where he is. But he’s still one of my greatest joys. And I love him. Happy birthday, Brandon.
Psalm 127:3 ~ Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth.