A Son, a Mother's Lesson

Raising a son as a single mom has been a journey of trust—trusting myself, trusting God, and trusting the process of his becoming. At 14, my son is showing me that manhood doesn’t arrive in one big moment, but through a collection of small choices, gestures, and quiet strength.

There are days I stand back and realize he is no longer that little boy running to me for everything. He is learning how to stand on his own, and that both humbles and amazes me. Every detail—his scent, his style, the way he holds his head high—whispers of a future where he will walk confidently into manhood, carrying pieces of what I’ve given him, and parts I never could.

And here is the truth that gives me peace: I don’t have to be everything. Where I fall short, grace fills the gaps. Where my hands couldn’t guide, faith placed people, moments, and lessons in his path.

The man I see rising within him is not only a reflection of me, but of God’s promise—reminding me daily that prayers planted in love will always bloom in time.

This is part two of my story, but it’s only the beginning of his.