Raising Sons...
Raising Sons…
During the Republican National Convention, I was
touched by several “mother and son” stories presented during the convention.
Vice Presidential nominee Paul Ryan’s tribute to his mother, who, after her
husband’s death when Paul was only sixteen, discovered a way to make a good life
for her family. Each morning she rode the bus to Madison to obtain an education in small
business. At age 50, she launched her own business and has been an inspiring
success story. Her son, Paul Ryan, Congressman from Wisconsin, gave a loving tribute to her courage
and strength as she faced the future days. Bright tears shone in Mom’s eyes as
Paul smiled fondly from the speaker’s platform.
Raising sons…what
an awesome task! This mother/son relationship forms a deep and abiding attachment
that only the two can understand. A true mother will teach her son to be strong
and courageous, to lead, to be self sufficient and responsible, to be fair and honorable
with all people, and to know that love and tenderness do not make a man weak,
but rather, raise him to the image that God has intended. To raise a son is to raise a
potential leader, perhaps a president or a humble pastor, but always a man
worthy of his mother’s teaching.
When our own
son still lived at home before moving to another state, I found this bit of
prose and claimed it for him. It is the prayer of my heart—of every mother who
raises a son, and then hands him back to God.
Lord, nothing I can say will be enough
to keep him at my side,
And when the way grows long and steep
and rough,
Be thou his guide.
My love would hold him close,
But distance calls;
The far horizon's rim beckons from
Beyond the shelter of these wall -- Remember him.
Your mother knew the anguish, sudden,
brief,
That makes these eyes go blind with
woman’s tears;
and You understood the grief of all
mankind.
Remember him.
You were a young man once…in Nazareth,
Now I must forego his secret thoughts,
His dreams of life and death,
But You
will know.
This is the end: the work of heart and
hand—
The mother’s task—all done,
But surely with the one who understands,
I leave my son.
Helen
Frazee-Bower
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