How is a mom supposed to write this post. It’s six months in the writing, 8 years in the thinking, infinite spiritual years in the making.
You outsmart me. We played Bohnanza tonight and I was shocked time and again at how you strategized and multi-tasked thoughts. I underestimate your capability and preparation for more.
Mommy wants to keep you little. To have you never grow up and leave me. Of course that is not the plan. And it shouldn’t be.
You are so good.
You are my boy. Such a hard worker. So orderly and on top of things. You are quick to do your responsibilities. You don’t complain. You are a self-initiator.
You set goals and are thorough in completion.
You are such a good brother to your sisters, and wait patiently as we take care of their needs so much more than yours since they are younger and outnumber you.
You are so good and want so much to please us.
You get disappointed in yourself easily as you want to be your best and expect a lot from yourself.
I am proud of how you decided to not take entertainment to church anymore so you could listen better.
I am proud of how you decided to fast on your own when you turned eight.
I am proud of how you didn’t eat the candy you took from your piano teacher after we let it be your decision so that you could tell him you weren’t completely honest in earning it.
You are so good at scouts and passionate about it.
You are funny, and fun, and animated.
You are just so good and the things I see in you are endless.
You are a special son of God and will be an outstanding missionary to Him and bear the Andrus name.
You love the Lord. You love what He did for you and all of us, even though you cannot comprehend it. You want to please Him. You know God is your Father and ours.
I remember Dad giving me a priesthood blessing a few hours before you were born. We got in the car to go to the hospital after that blessing and Dad stopped and looked down and said quietly as he pondered the blessing just given, “He is cool,” and nodded, “He is a really cool.”
Daddy knew you. He felt you. He knew your spirit and strength and how much we needed you in our family as our oldest, our son, a warrior, and an older, protective brother to your sisters.
Thank you for being patient with me when I make the same mistakes over and over.
Mom can’t write this message to you. It is too dear and too deep and past earthly language.
You are so good, Trent Reed. You are so good and strong and much bigger and older than Dad and I. We need you. We need you to keep us good.
You are our boy.
Mom and Dad