May was a hard month. Not only was I closing down my first year as an Interim Principal, but we were also preparing our youngest for high school graduation. Glorious, yes, but with glory comes a truckload of transition. It took me weeks to put words to all the things bubbling up in my heart. The result is this letter to my baby who completed our family in ways we all struggle to articulate. What a joy to be a mom and watch my children grow into their callings. I am not ready to step into my empty nest era, but it’s coming for me. Send your prayers as we endeavor to steward the season well.
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Andrew,

You’re the baby, so you might not know it, but everything shifted when you were born, and it’s hard to believe it’s about to shift again. You were always along for the ride–even when you preferred to stay home, and let’s be honest, you always wanted to stay home. Nonetheless, you became my work buddy, shopping companion, and singing partner. 

We would run the other kids to school and then head back home to start our day. Before anything else, you required food. It has been a love language for you since the very beginning. If your world was upside down, I could simply add a healthy snack and all would be right. I’d get you settled in your highchair, turn on the music, and get to tasks in the kitchen. Music was always part of the equation, and as I belted out the words of whatever song came on the radio, you watched intently with your big brown eyes. Though you were invested in your meal, you were locked in on the rhythm and cadence of the song.

You were particular, too. You had a clear vision for exactly how you wanted things–toys, food, and clothes. You’re still like that. Well, maybe not so much when I glance in your room because I think you have adjusted some expectations, but overall, you still have a clear idea of what and how you want things to unfold, and it is always on your schedule, according to your timeframe.

You would often accompany me to work, bible study, and social gatherings. You became a mascot without any effort. You were likable, yet you did not give away your approval easily. People were drawn to you, but you made people work for a response. That will still guides you today. You are not easily taken by the schemes of strangers or those with ill motives. That discernment was sometimes hard to negotiate when you were small, but it makes a world of sense now that you are launching into your adult years.

Maybe it wasn’t fun to be my sidekick, but it taught you olympic-level awareness. You’re the first to notice a haircut, new outfit, or broken heart. Your tenderness is a gift to me; it anchored me in seasons of doubt you had not even perceived, but it is also a gift you offer the world. From saving roly-polies to befriending the neighborhood cat, you always saw the underdog. Your heart is big and brave, and I see that persisting even amidst heartbreaking experiences that could have hardened it. 

Son, the world is a better place because you’re in it. As you graduate high school and set your sights on life beyond our four walls, please carry this truth close at heart. Your life has influence. Your smile lights up a room. Your kindness is a salve the hurting world needs. You have a magnetic personality that impacts your community. Leverage your gifts and talents for the common good–the greater good. Keep your eyes forward, but never forget the memories under your feet.

Be quick to remember how loved you are by us and God. Be sure to stay connected with your siblings. Be generous with your old friends as you make new ones. Be diligent in your pursuit of faith. Be consistent in your phone calls and visits home. Son, you are an essential part of what makes our home a home.

Thank you for your big smile, strong hugs, and unmatched humor. You are a bright light. You are deeply loved. Dad and I will always be your biggest fans; we are ridiculously proud of you.

Go, make a difference. Be where your feet are. Chase your dreams. Soar. We’ll be cheering. Always.

I love you,
Mom