"There is an endearing tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other affections of the heart." ~Washington Irving

"They will teach you more than you will ever even hope to teach them."  Those are words my father shared with me in reference to children the first time I told him I was pregnant.  I have thought about that often over the past 24 years.  He was so right.

Each one of our children has brought a unique personality to our family, and all three of them have taught me so much in their own individual ways.  They continue to do so.  But today, I am thinking mostly about our son.  Our only boy.  Our "baby."  He turns 22 today, and he continues to teach his mama.

As our kids were growing up, I kept journals where I wrote letters to them.  And this week I took time to read back through Caleb's journal.  On May 10, 1994, when Caleb was about 15 months old, I noted, "You have started folding your hands and bowing your head when we pray – that is so sweet, and I know it must make God smile!"  At that early age, Caleb made Jesus' words in Matthew 19:14 come alive to me - "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”  Caleb's simplicity of faith, innocence, and humility - like all children - set an example of what I should be, both then and now.

On August 7, 1995, when Caleb was two, I wrote, "You are no trouble at all, except when you aggravate Rebecca.  You really know how to push her  buttons, and I get weary of the battles between you two!"  This continued to be a recurring theme throughout the next several years.  It was always those two fighting, with Sarah being the little peacemaker.  I remember worrying about how they would interact when they were grown - would they hate each other?  If you know them, you know nothing could be further from the truth.  Our kids - yes, even Becca and Caleb - love each other deeply, and enjoy spending time together.  Those early battles, and the ability they had to work through them, taught me powerful lessons in love and forgiveness.  People and relationships are important, and we need to be forgiving as we grow past harboring childish grudges.

Caleb has always had a vivid imagination.  I wrote last year about his imaginary grandfather, uncles, and brothers, and his imaginary grandma who was eaten by a camel.  But there was also this, which I recorded on September 8, 1997 - "I found out that you cried at preschool today.  I asked you why, and you gave me a long, elaborate story about how a little boy hit you, knocked you down and had to go to the principal’s office.  I told you that you don’t have a principal’s office, and you laughed and said you were just kidding.  You said the real reason you cried was because you lined up to get on the school bus and . . . I interrupted – you don’t have a school bus, I said.  When I asked again what REALLY happened, you said you couldn't remember."  While this may seem humorous, it also shows a heart that was willing and able to look on the bright side, and let go of the bad stuff - a good lesson for all of us.

Then, there are these excerpts:  April 13, 1998 - "Today you told your preschool teacher, 'You look beautiful - where did you get that dress?'";  March 17, 1999 - "You endear yourself to young and old alike." and May 15, 2000, in reference to his first grade teacher - "Mrs. Kennedy’s husband died a few weeks ago.  You were very upset by that and would cry as you prayed for her."  Caleb's attention to people, his passion to brighten the lives of others, and his ability to truly feel others' pain have given me a heightened sense to pay more attention to those qualities in my own life.

Likewise, Caleb has taught me how to have a right heart.  On several occasions throughout his young life, we had the unpleasant task of confronting him with wrong choices he made.  Every single time we did that with Caleb, we were met with a tender heart - one who didn't make excuses or try to justify, readily admitted his error, and sought to make the necessary changes to overcome those things.  During his teenage years, I wrote, "You always take 'no' very graciously and respectfully, you never argue."  This is the kind of heart we all must have to be pleasing to God.

And then there is Caleb's passion for life.  As early as October 4, 1994, when Caleb was a mere 20 months old, I wrote, "You enjoy life so much!"  That was a continuing theme throughout all of my letters to him, with entries such as:  "Last week you took your first airplane ride, and loved it – you live life to the fullest and fully enjoy everything you do!" ; "You have such a unique passion and enthusiasm for life," ; "You got a puppy for your birthday – she makes you laugh – you are so good at enjoying every moment of life, living it to the fullest, and appreciating all of the little things."  Other entries noted things like, "You enjoy leading the band in the roller coaster";  "At Saturday's UIL event, you somehow got the master key to the school and took some classmates on the roof..."  I can't tell you how many times Caleb has said, "This was the BEST DAY EVER!"  And he always means it.  Caleb has taught me to live more in the moment, and to find real, deep, belly-laughter kind joy in everything.

 It has been a year of growth for our boy.  From spending his summer in Costa Rica, to enduring emergency surgery last fall, he has handled each challenge in a true "Caleb" way - finding the best in every situation, loving the people in his life, serving His God to the best of his ability, always ready to make necessary correction when he gets off course, and thoroughly enjoying every moment.  (When he had his surgery, his recovery nurse who called me to tell me they were taking him to his room couldn't stop laughing.  She said, "He sure is entertaining!"  That's our boy.)

So, Happy Birthday, Bud, and thanks for all you continue to teach me.  How overwhelmingly blessed I am to be called "Mom" by you - I will never fully be able to express exactly what that means to me.  I am a better person because of you.  And I definitely take things a little less seriously, and laugh a whole lot more.  The very first letter I wrote to you on February 8, 1993 included these words: "My prayer and greatest desire for you is that you will grow up to be a godly, sensitive, caring and honest man like your father."  You have, and you are.  I thank God for you!