Moms of boys are a chosen bunch. A mom can somehow just tell when her offspring is dangerously close to setting his long haired dachshund on fire, or when they've spilled paint thinner on the floor. These things are inherent in little boys but intuition is second nature to moms. Thank you, Lord for that.
I'm not sure where that instinct comes from... is it the physical connection formed from carrying him for nine months? No, adoptive moms also have it.
Maybe it's from the subtle shift in the Universe caused by his devious vibes? No. A universal shift is never subtle. Neither is a little boy.
Maybe it's the God given strength given to moms to pull their boys through this life to ensure their safety despite the things they try to constantly do to themselves. Yes, that is it. I'm sure of it.
See, my boy is away at camp this week. It's so quiet in this house that I can't breathe. I'm constantly on edge waiting for an explosion or inevitable thud, bang, pop, or boom to come from his room. Some moms revel in quiet moments like these; they drown themselves in the peace that comes with silence. Moms of boys typically know better. In my house, silence means you better check the white dog for blue sharpie streaks and bald spots. You better take the permanent black marker out of they boy's nose and live with the raccoon faced, dark nostril look til it wears off in a couple days. You better prepare to spend the afternoon scrubbing the contents of an entire bottle of pancake syrup off the couch and mini schnauzer. You better snake the plumbing for whatever has caused dookie to start backing up into your bathtub. You better not EVER leave your feminine products within reach. And whatever happens in that silence, NEVER, EVER fall asleep, for it is in those moments of slumber that your toddler will laugh at the spinning toilet roll as he puts one end of the tissue into the water and flushes repeatedly until the paper is gone and the bathroom becomes his own personal kiddie pool.
Somehow my boy has survived to teen years and though band-aids have reached into the thousands, the hospital visits have been minimal. Despite using a kitchen chair stacked on a rolling chair stacked on his bed to reach the ceiling. Despite the skateboarding and the four wheelers and the football and the back talk. Despite eating stuff that would kill a turkey buzzard. Yeah, my hair is graying and his guardian angel is probably constantly applying for a transfer. But my God is nodding His head with a smile and the great things in store for this young man. He is away growing in knowledge and love for the One who created Him to be the mischievous, funny, witty, good hearted person that he is.
Moms of boys, listen to that voice that makes you drop your mascara brush in mid application. Listen to it when it says, "Your son is using a match as a flashlight to see what is clunking around in the gas can..." or "Your son is carrying a machete and a loaf of bread out the door, you might wanna go check on that..."
I'm listening to the voice in the silence right now. Because very soon the silence will be deafening as he goes out into a lost world to make his own way. Those crazy messes and near misses will be memories that will have strengthened my prayer life. He will use every fiber of what makes him "Drew" by the blueprint of his Savior's design to navigate what lies ahead. He has been sealed. He has been saved. And until the end of my dying breath he will be prayed for. In this quietness I can't thank my God enough for the privilege of being Drew's mama.
Amanda Williams is a forty-year old wife and mother of two who can still swing her pony tail and display just a tad of sass. She is also a Jesus loving girl who realizes she is nothing without the One who saved her. Amanda has two degrees specializing in serving students with special needs and is currently working in the field of Leadership Development. She is a Christian author, speaker, blogger, and publisher who loves serving beside her husband at her local place of worship, First Baptist Church of Ocala.