Walks with Nate

The first time I held Nate - at Hobby Airport

As Mother's Day approaches I am reflecting on one of the best days of my life... September 16, 2000, when the cutest little chubby-cheeked Korean baby boy with Don King hair was placed in my arms at Hobby Airport by my dear friend, Sue Gold.  For those of you in my life that were there, you know how precious this moment was for Dave and I.  It was an out-of-body experience.  Everyone who was there at the gate faded into the background on that beautiful day. I didn't hear much of what anyone said... what I remember from that day is how Nate smelled, how soft his hair was, how squishy his arms and legs were.  We had a stroller at the gate, but why would I have ever used it?  I was going to hold that baby boy all the way to the car because I had waited and waited and waited for that moment... the moment I officially became a mother.

Motherhood didn't come easy for me.  I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say, my journey looked a lot different from others - and since we've been in the realm of adoption, we have found many people who have had a similar journey.  Mothers love their children fiercely, passionately and whether you carried that child in your womb, or in my case, in my heart, this is something that is the same across the board.  I think my journey, however, has given me pause on many a day - because I have noted things in a way I might not have if it had come easy.  With the celebration of both Nate's birthday (in March) and his "Gotcha Day" (in September), we are reminded more often of the gift that he is and the wonder that he has brought to our lives.

On a walk at our favorite park

On this particular Mother's Day I am grateful for my walks with Nate.  On weekdays, it will be just the two of us and Brooks (the Wonder-Dog), sauntering through our neighborhood.  During those walks I try and listen carefully.  Since I am the mother of a boy, I have recognized that I oft don't get a story from him right away.  It comes out in bits and pieces in different conversations and I will string together the entire story from those small reflections he gives me on different occassions.  So I try very hard to listen, to be ready to engage in both silly and deeper conversations.  In spite of knowing this, I think there is always at least 5 minutes in the one hour walk wherein I lapse into lecturing him.  He has now gotten to the age where he can tell me I am doing so and graciously tells me he has heard me.  I didn't say I was perfect!

We have talked about everything under the sun through the years, and even more as he has gotten older.  The other day it was his silly game of "what if" and then the revelation at the end of the walk that he had given one of his "25 point math coupons" to a girl in class who needed it because she had gotten a bad grade and he had four such coupons in his possession from doing so well in class. Her name was Ruth, but he couldn't recall her last name.  I was impressed (and please, if what he did was not legal in the grand scheme of things, let's keep it a secret.  I just loved his heart on this one).    Another memorable walk entailed trying to figure out which Middle School he would go to of the three choices he had. 

The walk where we decided on what Middle School to go to

I always take away a little more about what he's thinking and who he is, how his heart is forming and what his dreams are.  These walks will always be some of my most precious memories as a mother - and I know that one day they won't come as easily when he goes off to college or begins a family of his own.  I can imagine someday in the future when he's all grown up, that we will still find some time to walk together... or I see myself walking with his daughter or son and trying to listen well, to find out more about who they are and what is important to them.

And there's the other side to that coin... the fact that he hears my heart and my dreams and my hopes, that he knows what makes his mom tick and what she feels passionately about, how her faith moves her and her community inspires her.  I hope that during these walks he carries away with him some of those things and perhaps comes to find that a few of those things are worth taking with him and passing on to the next generation.  Because, someday too, he'll have walks with his own children.

We came back from our walk the other day and I asked him - "Do you like walking with me?"  Because he is almost a teenager, his reply was this:  "I don't like walking sometimes because it's exercise.  But I like talking to you, Mom."

Be. Still. My. Heart.