The other night around midnight I walked into my son’s room. I was having a challenging time unwinding to fall asleep. This is new for me as I am normally the exact opposite. I am typically an early riser—crazy early—and an early crasher. I am usually in bed prepared for coma-level sleep by 9 o’clock.
When I walked into my son’s room in the midnight hour, with his room lit only by the glow of a nightlight near the foot of his bed, I kneeled down next to him. I leaned over his body, took his hands in mine, and I kissed his little fingers. I brushed his hair off of his forehead. I kissed his forehead. I kissed his cheek. Then, I kissed his little fingers again.
Precious motherhood moments in the midnight hour.
It’s hard to believe that his body is growing as fast as it is. He now takes up majority of his twin bed. Memories of watching him sleep in his crib as an infant seem so close yet that was five years ago, and five years seem like they went by in a snap.
As I held his hand that glowing nightlight lit night, I whispered to him, “I love you so much.”
When I heard my own voice, tears immediately welled up in my eyes and began to stream down my face. The tears were not of sadness at that moment. They were tears of joy. I smiled envisioning how goofy Landon has become and how carefree he is as he dances around our family room during our impromptu dance sessions. I smiled as I recalled our nightly bedtime routine when we laugh hysterically as he pleads for me to tickle him and then pleads for me to stop tickling him, and then says, “Do it again, Mommy. Do it again, Mommy.”
Joy for me is knowing and experiencing my son’s joy.
Joy for me is knowing and experiencing my son thriving and shining.
Landon has a whole tribe of people in his world who love and care for him, and he knows and feels that he is loved.
Then, the tears of joy shifted as I recalled what I had experienced in the last five years. I allowed my mind to shuffle through the memories of my personal journey and I let all of the feelings flow through.
I felt the pain of my sacrifices and my discontent.
I felt the fear of my struggles and my uncertainty.
I felt the hope of my courage and my healing.
Tears of joy shifted to tears of hope. Yes, hope is what lingered. Hope that I would be okay. Hope that we would be okay. Hope that my leap of faith into the unknown was right for us.
Memories of nights three years ago when I laid awake at night wrestling with the choices I could make for my life. Wrestling with the mounting fear of shifting into unknown. Wrestling with the responsibility of knowing that every choice I made for my life was also a choice I was making for his life.
As I continued to kneel next to my slumbering son, my heart felt wide open for my crimson-haired little boy. I felt overflowing love and gratitude for him. My young son is the reason for so much change, growth, and clarity in my life. He’s taught me and inspired me beyond measure.
While I am empowered with the Divine gift of helping to guide my son through life and helping him learn important life lessons, I realize that he is helping to guide me. He is helping me learn important life lessons. In many ways my son is my greatest teacher.
It is my son who has helped me love with a whole and transparent heart.
It is my son who has inspired me to stand up for myself with grace and honor.
It is my son who has showed me that unconditional love is all inclusive.
It is my son who has helped me to feel childlike again.
It is my son who has helped me experience the butterflies.
It is my son who has taught me that children are wise and intuitive beings of pure light.
Yes, my son is my greatest teacher. Landon is my crimson-haired shaman of sage wisdom.
He is my five year old teacher.
There are times lately as I am absorbed in the daily work of running a company and living my purpose, that the tasks of the day require my energy to splinter into different directions. While I know my passion for what I am doing is the driving force behind the momentum and manifestation of fulfilling my greatest heart’s desires and my soul’s purpose, it is often in those still quiet moments of the late night or early morning when I gaze at my son that I reaffirm that I can keep going.
I will keep going.
I will persevere. I will do what I’m being led to do. Why? Because at the heart of everything I do is my son—my joyful, shining son.
He inspires me to be more joyful.
He inspires me to shine.
Together, we shine.