By Crystal Fulmer 
My eldest is turning sixteen in a little over three weeks. I still remember his hand in mine—up to the age of seven or eight. I remember his cuddles, his kisses, his head pressed against my chest. And believe it or not, out of six kids, he has always been my least affectionate.
Now that he’s older, sweet touches have made way for grunts and a muffled “I love you too” under his breath when I’m headed to bed and he’s gaming with his friends.
I am proud to say I’m the only family member he’ll still let hug him and kiss the top of his head (when he’s sitting, of course) every now and again. But there are so many other ways he loves his momma.
He compliments me in subtle ways. He says things like, “I could never be as patient as you,” or “I wish I had your handwriting.” It’s taken practice to hear these things, not as simple conversation, but as a young man noticing and appreciating the sacrifices, gifts, and talents of his mom.
He defends me. He has little siblings. Some of them are particularly strong-willed. Sometimes, he’ll overhear their attempts to wear me down, and he’ll notice how hard I’m trying to stand my ground. All of a sudden, this fathering spirit rises out of his depths, and he’ll say something like, “Didn’t you hear what mom said? You need to listen to what she asks you to do instead of arguing all the time.” And most of the time, they’ll listen much better to big brother because of how much they look up to him.
It’s good to know that through the years, in all the hard and easy seasons, he still respects me enough to have my back. He doesn’t fight my battles, but he’s become a helper, and that is an encouraging truth for my heart.
He takes care of me in the funniest ways. I tend to use my phone to look at a recipe while I’m cooking. The other night after dinner, I asked him if he could download the remote app onto my phone. It was pretty crusty from dinner. He gave me a face, downloaded the app, then disappeared into his room. He came out with a wet wipe for eyeglasses and said, “Mom, you really need to clean your phone.” While some may see this as rude or odd, it’s endearing to my heart. He wants to take care of me. And he does so in the best way he knows how.
He does what is asked of him with minimal complaint. There are a few things he’s asked to do. Take out the trash. Clean up after dinner. Mow the grass. Carry heavy things for me when his dad isn’t home. He does them willingly. Not always exactly the moment he’s asked, but without complaining—and that is absolutely an act of love for a teenage son.
Sometimes, it’s hard to notice the ways our big kids turning adults love us, but they are there. The only thing we need to do to see these new ways more often is to respond, engage, and put a little effort into reading between those vague lines.
by Mikala Albertson 
by Debra Wilson 
by Debra Caffrey 
