For Michael Thomas

In going through my files on my computer, I came upon this poem that I wrote for our youngest son Michael when he was three. It was just a few months before we moved to Decatur for seminary...

Your Passion
For Michael Thomas, with love from Mom
April 18. 2002

You're the hardest part of my day, yet the joy of my life.
The delicate balance between ecstasy and utter frustration.
From the first stirrings of you in my body...even your conception.
I've felt it from the start, your eagerness, need, to live with passion.

They said that you couldn't be...it was too soon.
But I knew better, as all mothers do. You were there, sure & strong.
Even at eight weeks, your beating heart was screaming for life.
A Soul that you had already claimed, passionately staked for your own.

It was as if you'd picked up the remaining pieces of the one before you,
The one who had not been, whose body was no longer there.
Perhaps there were bits of soul still present, begging for a life.
And like a good brother, you gathered them in, sharing yourself.

You were the hardest to carry, for both body & mind were weary.
And I had little time to rest, as there were other young demands.
Needs to be met, incessant and necessary.
But you were there always, reminding me of your presence.

So eager you were to join our lives that you couldn't wait 'til your time.
Your brothers were late, but you...you were three days ahead of yourself.
Always ahead of yourself, or so you thought. So you think.
You're only three, a mere speck in the hourglass of life.

I wrestle with you, with who you are and the roller coaster you ride.
Up one minute, then plummeting down the next, with no warning, none.
I hurt for you, for the emotions you feel so strongly yet cannot name.
But we're both trying...it's just that there are so many, and it's so hard!

You're only three, too little for reasoning, for big words, or big feelings.
But your feelings ARE big, and they resonate loud & long.
Even when you are back up and the world is good again,
Your frustration, your hurtful actions, linger in my mind, heart, and memory.

Time will help, I tell myself. You'll grow out of it.
But do I want you to? That passion you have, good or bad
Is passion nonetheless. It's a depth of feeling that not everyone has.
But I know you have it because I see myself in your depths.

We'll get through this, you & me, and be better for it.
Your feelings WILL always resonate loud & long for me.
As mine will for you, one of these days. And I will remind you.
Of the days, not so very long ago, when you were my hardest part.