Proud

I'm proud of all my kids.  Each one has made me proud at some point in their lives.  Repeatedly.  I'm proud of how they've dealt with change and death and being ignored by people who shouldn't ignore them.  I'm proud of their accomplishments.  I'm proud of what makes them each a unique human. 

But in the last few weeks, I've been especially proud of Jack.  This kid has experienced so much adversity in his short life. Death, abandonment, disappointment, destruction--he's had his fair share of crap. More than I ever had at his age, that's for certain.  Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect.  That's also for certain.  He says a particular word that rhymes with "duck" all too often.  He hangs up on me with regularity.  Sometimes the things he talks about make me cringe.   And I don't think he brushes his teeth often enough (after all that money for braces...).

But I'm a little in awe of his ability to know and recognize what he wants out of life.  And he does this with a teachable attitude.  This means that he knows what he wants but he's also willing to listen and heed another's advice or suggestions or ask for help.  I would say he's also humble and doesn't like being in the spotlight.  All and all, he's a pretty simple guy who doesn't require much to keep him happy. After losing everything in the fire, I think he now only owns a couple changes of clothes, 2 bath towels, and a toothbrush (that I bought him).   He seems to know when to fight for something and when to walk away from the fight.  He can fix just about anything.  And he works hard.  Very hard.  (But he also sleeps.  A lot.  His nickname is "Nappy Joe.")

Jake and I went up on the hill with Jack the other evening.  Back story:  Jake's family owns some beautiful property in the mountains/woods that was destroyed by the recent fire.  Jack (and his friend) will be cutting and logging some of the burnt trees in order to keep the property safe for family to enjoy and to create a new place to rebuild.  As I was sitting on the tailgate of Jack's pickup, watching him cut trees, I actually started to cry.  Here was my kid, the little blonde one who I remember so vividly packing around his toy power saw, doing what he always wanted to do.  Now he was packing a big saw, complete with all the accoutrements, felling timber like a pro.  Ah, but now he actually is a pro.  

I don't have to tie "tightening loops" for him anymore or string rope across his room to create a makeshift yarder.  I don't have to feed him or do his laundry or fuss at him for leaving his bacon pan on the counter anymore.  I can't read him a story on my lap, in my rocking chair before bed.  I really can't even tell him what to do.

But I do have the privilege of watching him actualize his dreams.  

And that makes this Mama very proud.