Trees

When Laney was in Kindergarten, we learned Joyce Kilmer's "Trees." I have been driving her crazy reciting what I remember of it. She refuses to play and won't even say it with me.

It really stinks that I forgot that poem. It was a good one. 

The first line will stay with me forever:

I think that I shall never see 

A poem as lovely as a tree...


I was cleaning the kitchen when I heard a distant, "Mom! Come look!"

I walked out in the back yard to find my middle kid in the tree in the back yard for the first time ever. My first thought was, "Cool!" There were always trees to climb at my grandmother's house and I stayed in them. I almost climbed up there with him.

Then all I could see was him tumbling out of the tree to the hard ground. I saw emergency rooms, casts and doctor bills.

And I hate that.

Thanks to our insurance, the emergency rooms visits we've had took years to pay off. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the insurance we have, but there is no dread like seeing a never ending stream of envelopes coming in the mail with hospitals' names on the upper left corner with your name on the front.

And then I got mad at myself for letting money affect my son's joy in climbing a tree.

Or maybe it wasn't really anxiety about the money. Was I worried that he'd get hurt and I feared seeing that pain? Was I inconvenienced by his being in the tree because I felt the need to stand under him to make sure he didn't fall out?

Why is this so hard for me?

As I shoved the little kid up the tree so he could be with his brother, I did laugh out loud at my insanity. I try so hard to be a good boy mom. I intentionally try to let them get dirty, be messy, be loud and let them rough and tumble. I see their love for rocks and sticks and motors and balls and running and gross stuff. And tackling. I didn't grow up around boys and never knew much about them, but I am desperate to be a good boy mom.

And I want them to be Godly men, fathers and husbands one day. I'm absolutely desperate for that.

So how does my not freaking out about my son climbing a tree lead him to be a Godly man? I don't know, but way deep inside me I feel a connection somehow.

I want him to know that I trust him to be careful and make wise decisions. I want to trust him to know how high to go or whether a branch is too weak to stand on. I want him to decide with full confidence if he's making good decisions or not. In that tree or out of it.

And I'm simply horrible at this. I stood there yelling up in that tree, "That's far enough. Not that branch. Are you ready to come down?"

The mom I want to be said, "I love that you are in that tree. I wish I could climb it too! How's the view up there?"

I think I said those things. Later. Maybe. I hope I did.

I have to trust my kids. I have to trust the Holy Spirit in them. I have to let them fall. Both out of trees and in life. Everything in me screams against that. But He's teaching me, and I'm so thankful.

I want, long and desire passionately to be a Godly wife and a fantastic boy mom. {And girl mom, but that seems so much easier. At least in this situation. She climbed in the tree for five minutes and decided she'd rather swing or read}

These boys challenge me. And I'm so glad.