That's My Samuel

       Today as I was picking Samuel up from his Bible Study Fellowship class a little early I peeked into the door to see what he was doing. Evelyn was at home with daddy, because she insisted she "needed him" and begged to stay home. He has an unusual schedule, so some mornings he gets to be home and this was one of them. As I was enjoying BSF, I knew that I had a little window to get to the store for "emergency groceries". We were low on Cheerios and goldfish, so this was a code red! I went to go get Samuel from his class early to be able to run to the store before picking up his friend to come play. As I looked in the window, I saw that it was a rest time and he was cuddling his blue blankie he calls "purple" and obeying so well for it not being anywhere near his normal rest time at home. My heart turned to mush as i gushed in my mind about how sweet and cute he was in there and that he was obeying so well. His teachers always say he obeys well in their class and I'm proud of him for that. The teacher saw me and I knew I was Samuel's mom and brought him to the door to me. He had a huge smile on his face as we hugged after the hour and a half of being apart as though it had been all day. My heart swelled as I thought to myself "he's mine". I walked him out to the car, but as usual he desperately wanted me to "honey hold you". That means he wants me to hold him. He uses his grandmother's name as an adjective for almost everything he loves. Usually with Evelyn there I don't have the hands to hold him, but today I did and took advantage of that. I looked him in the eyes when we got to the car and said "I'm so glad you're the one I get to take home with me. I'm so glad you're mine!" Out of all those kids, he is the one the teacher knows goes with me. He is the one that's mine.:) 

       As we headed into Walmart I asked Samuel if he wanted to walk or ride in the cart and he chose to sit in the big part. As I pushed the cart I saw his uneven hair and remembered back to his haircut yesterday. His hair has been a drama his whole life with all of its calics and how straight it is. Apparently it is one of the hardest hair types to cut and we were stuck with a bowl cut until recently his hair matured to be able to do shorter without looking like Alfalfa times 10 or an umbrella. Along with this, in all of Samuel's MANY hair cuts, he has always panicked as the hair falls off of his head. This sweet boy in my cart at Walmart had turned into the Hulk at the hair salon just the day before. I was so embarrassed as usual and trying everything I could think of to make him stop. The usual every four week walk of shame to the car afterward happened as we both felt the weight of the horrible situation, both with different reasons. I looked back in the rear view mirror at the recent hair hulk who had once again turned into my sweet boy holding onto his blankie with red eyes sniffling over the occasion. His bangs were an obvious casualty of the freak out inside. I felt myself a growing familiar feeling inside of me, my heart started to once again gush. That big blue eyed, crooked banged, hair hulk afraid of buzzers... He's mine. His safe place was back in the car with his mom and blankie. With the buzzers getting further away with each mile, he was smiling and darling. It was so familiar. This sweet, precious, kind hearted boy... He's mine. 

       We kept walking through Walmart and I passed by the jewelry and browsed a minute. Samuel said "hey buddy! Look at that white necklace! It's so beautiful , get that one mommy!" How could I resist?! He's mine and he thinks it would be beautiful. Now he was getting thirsty and hungry and it was all so familiar. The cranky demand and my firm response:"Say please and be patient, I'll get it in a minute." happens all too often. Samuel pushes back, I have to hold my ground. The all too familiar hungry hulk was emerging from my little boy. As familiar as his sweet side is, I'm also extremely aquatinted with his "that's Samuel's!!!!" Side. The side that doesn't want to share even in his dreams when he is sleep talking. I'm well aquatinted with a strong willed, extremely particular three year old and this little boy with the serious eyebrows thinking he can find a way to run this place... He's mine. (And he won't run this place no matter how extreme his effort;) I feel the familiar feeling in my heart, the incredible realization that he was  given to ME to take care of and show how to live. He was given to me out of everyone on this planet, he's my son. I feel the gush again, this little compassionate, big blue eyed, darling little boy is MINE to take care of for a time. 

       He's mine. The boy named Samuel Pate "Balloon" who loves to listen to hymns for an hour and never lets me forget to pray at night is my little boy. The creepy feeling that I'm being watched from the top of the stairs as I watch "Shark Tank" after the kids should be asleep comes from no one, but him. The shadow in the doorway of a small child holding a blankie and dragging a pillow as quietly as possible to try to sneak into my bed is none other than my Samuel. The boy who always asks me if I'm ok, because he has a heart of compassion is my Samuel. The boy who never seems to be tired, that's him too. The one who fought potty training tooth and nail as others his age transitioned with ease, that's my Samuel. An incredible big brother, an incredible son, an incredible little boy... That's my Samuel. I am so thankful that he's mine.