A Mother and Her Sons

There is a stretch of beach here in Maui that holds pieces of my whole life.

My parents brought me here all of the time when I was a girl. And now, somehow, we are the parents bringing our children back to the very same place.

I talk often about my girls. But what I haven’t talked about as much is the quiet, powerful love between a mother and her sons.

After four girls came these identical twin boys. Our surprise. Our gift. Our perfect ending.

And now I watch them becoming. Stronger. Smarter. Kinder. More helpful. And extremely more competitive. The cornhole games alone have gotten intense in ways I did not see coming!!

They don’t reach for my hand as automatically as they once did. They pretend, sometimes, that they are too old for the hugs and kisses. But then there is the giving in. The leaning back. The hug that lingers just a second longer than they planned.

There is something so pure in a son’s love for his mother. It feels steady. Protective. Uncomplicated. A deep and abiding love that asks for nothing and gives everything.

With my daughters, there is a sacred sisterhood. A woman to woman understanding that grows richer with time but also has its tensions. With my sons, there is something different. Something quieter. Something holy.

Standing in this same place, looking at them now, nearly as tall as me, I feel time folding in on itself. The girl who once stood here with her parents could never have imagined this life.

My Heavenly Parents knew what they was doing when they sent us these boys. The cherry on top. The double home run in the final inning. The gift we didn’t know we needed to make this beautiful life feel complete.

Sacred places. Sacred seasons. 💙💙