Blonde hair, big blue eyes, and all arms and legs. Timid, shy, nervous and afraid, that is how you came to me. Little boy battered by the world not your making. Quiet, studious and rarely smiling.
Then, you grew. I loved you and nurtured you. Laughed with you, cried with you, showed you in every way that I can that you dad is an amazing man and worthy to be the leader of this house.
I have watched you come into your own. Your heart is pure your mind is quick and your soul belongs to Jesus. It put a permanent lump in my throat that as we bowed our head to pray, you thanked God for your "mom". I am not your mother by birth, but I am your mother by heart. Your place is secure there. I will never forget the joy the first time you said, "I love you, Mom."
Your sense of humor rivals my own, and I see so much of your father in you. Your wit, your mechanical ability, your heart of compassion and generosity. I have taught you to respect your elders and you do. Your daddy taught to respect your mom and women and you do. Your daddy taught you to be responsible and lead in a relationship and you do.
Tomorrow, I will take you to the recruiter and my heart while full of pride till it's bursting, is breaking because I have to give you up to soon. You are ready, and I am not. You are confident, and I am not. I am your mom. I want to protect you, but it's time to let you fly.
Be safe, son of my heart, be strong, be bold, be wise, and be who God intends you to be.