Twenty-five years ago, I started a new school from which I am never expected to graduate: Chandler Brice Brewer was born.
My professor was younger than me. In fact, he was only minutes old when the lessons began.
He came bearing the gift of questions and answers, metaphors and similes.
He was wrapped in the invitation to explore imagination.
Why was his resistance to sleep so strong, and what special magic did car rides possess to override this wide-eyed disposition?
When was the last of each milestone and was I paying close enough attention?
Where did the time go?
Who knew how much a heart could expand?
Until I was enrolled, I only understood a parent's love as concept.
Loving my own child was different than teaching, tutoring, and even 'big-sistering' countless children before.
Not only did I gain new insight into what it means to love a child, I also began to understand what it means to be loved as a child, in the earthly realm of Momma and Daddy, as well as that higher, capital letter realm of Child and Father.
It is something I hope my own children come to understand deeply about themselves - and stand on when life feels like quicksand.
Chandler is an adult now with a family of his own. I do my best to be "on standby,” not standing in the way.
And yet- I'm always internally poised to dive in if I am needed. Always will be.
Happy Birthday, Chandler
Thank you for all you've taught -and are teaching- me.
I love love love you, much, much, muchly.
And I always will be.
Love,
Momma
