Letters to my Son: I saw in you his humanity

Dear son,

This morning I rocked with you, as you began to get sleepy, in those early morning hours after sleep but before your first nap, your mind still fighting sleep, even as your body gradually began to sink into mine, your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and your little twitches and fiddlings slowly down.  Those moments, those snuggles, are precious to me, because already you are a man on the go.  Already you want to move.  To be off exploring every dangerous element of our house, one backwards crawl-scoot at a time.  You're sitting, scooting, rolling, moving constantly.  And when you're not, you're babbling in full-baby dialogue, telling us about every move that you have made or want to make.   You're growing up oh so quickly...

You're sleeping now, bottom in the air, one leg pulled up next to you in crawl-ready position, with your little arms - with those precious little baby rolls upon rolls - one holding your pacifier, stroking your lips with it, the other holding Mr. Moose and patting him as though he were an old friend.

Yesterday morning, on my way to work, mommy passed another boy who was sleeping in exactly the same way that you are now.  One hand by his lips, the other cradling and patting his snuggle buddy.  Bottom in the air, one leg pulled up into the ready-to-crawl position.  For just a second, when I saw him, he reminded me so much of you, sleeping peacefully in your crib.

Except that this boy was in his late 40s, and instead of a soft crib, he was sleeping on a cement bench in a bus terminal.  Instead of a blanket, he was wrapped in a dirty jacket.  Instead of a onesie, he was wearing clothes that smelled of days without washing or relief from the heat.  And instead of a snuggly Mr. Moose for a buddy, he was cradling his backpack, assumedly containing most of his possessions.

And yet, for just a instant, in the midst of my own very stressful day, my own busyness, concerns, and worries, I saw him.

In him, I saw you.  Saw someone's son, not one abandoned, but one that at some point in time, maybe even presently, was deeply loved.  Cuddled, held, rocked.  Treasured.  A son whose mother felt his kicks and wiggles and heartbeat before he was born, and bore him into this world in the same ways that I delivered you.  A baby growing up into a little boy, whose mother couldn't believe how quickly he was growing.  A son who slept ready to crawl because he was so ready to take on the world on crawl-scoot at a time.

We never interacted - he was sound asleep, I was late to work.  And more rapidly than I'd care to admit, my mind moved back to my own pressing issues for the day.  But for just an instant,  he wasn't dirty, homeless, and aging to me - he was someone's son and I felt my mother's heart beat within me.

I don't know his story - I don't know what brought him to that point, finding rest snuggled up on that bench, during my morning commute.  I don't know what his family was like - and I don't know what parts of his circumstances were of his own choosing or as a result of his past.  But I do know that he was someone's son.  That someone loved him enough to give him life.  That he grew up, from baby to little boy to man.  And that you, and I, and he, we're made from the same material, no matter where our paths or choices take us differently.

And so son, as you sleep peacefully in your safe, comfortable crib, I want to entreat you, as you grow from a baby to a boy, to a bigger boy, to a man - to recognize with me, and to remind me to remember, this common humanity of every person that we encounter.  Everyone, no matter how smelly, dirty, crude, rude, mean, or frustrating, is someone's son or daughter.  We might not like everyone, or agree with everyone, and that's okay, but at very minimum, we must recognize their humanity, and treat each person with the same respect and dignity that I would want them to treat my sons and daughters, or you would want them to treat your brothers and sisters.

And son, Lord forbid, but if, by some horrible turn of events or choices made, you ever find yourself sleeping on a bench, out in the cold, or caught up in a cycle that you cannot break - I want you to know - and really know - that you are loved, and wanted and will be welcomed.  Whether I agree with you, or all of your decisions, whether there is hurt or anger or brokenness in our relationship between now and then, and no matter how messy your life may be, you are loved, wanted, and welcomed, as you are.  Please come home, or call me, and I'll come where you are.  Please don't every let shame, or messiness, or dirt, or stuck-ness, or difference of opinion keep us apart, or keep you away.  And I will promise, here publicly, that I will do endeavor to let strong love always win, to keep my arms and my heart open and welcoming, come what may.

I love you, sweet boy.  Your Daddy and I are so proud of all of the ways you are growing and learning.  And we pray daily for the man that you are becoming.

Love,

Mommy