Love that Trusts
Love That Trusts
I didn't pick up Mother & Son by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs because I thought I was doing something wrong. I picked it up because I wanted to understand. I was a new mom, holding a boy I loved with everything I had — and I wanted to understand him, not just love him. That first read changed me quietly. No single chapter shook me. It was more like water finding its way into all the places I didn't know were dry. I wasn't reading to be corrected. I was reading to be opened.
"A boy needs his mother's respect. Not only her love but also her respect."
Dr. Emerson Eggerichs · Mother & SonThose words stopped me and they opened something in me that I hadn't expected.
I had to sit with them. Respect. I knew respect — I had given it to my father, and to my earthly father too. But respecting my son? That felt different. Tender, even. It wasn't the respect that flows upward, shaped by honor and authority. This was something softer and more deliberate, a choice to see him, to make room for who he was becoming, to not crowd him with my love. I knew how to love my son. Love came easily, instinctively, overwhelmingly. But this kind of respect? That felt like a different language, one I hadn't realized I needed to learn.
Mothers can love so fiercely that we accidentally crowd our boys. We fix things. We worry. We talk. We reach in when they need us to hold back, not because we're wrong, but because we love. The book helped me see that a boy who feels respected by his mother is a boy who feels safe being himself. He doesn't have to build walls around the tender parts. He doesn't have to prove anything. He can just grow. I wasn't reading to teach my son anything. I was reading to learn something about him and, quietly, about myself.
The book talks about grace and reading it opened my eyes. But what I know as a mom, from living it, is this: we need to be gracious to ourselves. We will not always get it right. We will jump in when we should hold back, speak when we should stay quiet, and miss the moment we were trying so hard to create. And that is okay. Grace isn't just something we extend to our boys, it belongs to us too. Every day is a new opportunity to do better. And that is enough to keep going.
And as I extend that grace to myself, I find it changes how I show up for them, not as the mom who has to get everything right, but as the mom who keeps choosing to try. That has looked different in every season.
In the early years, we were attached at the hip. They were mine and I was theirs and the world was small and close. But now I have one stepping into those preteen years, maturing and yet still tender, still opening his heart to me, and one still in the sweet elementary years, full of wonder and reaching for my hand. Two different seasons, two different needs, and me in the middle of both, learning what each one requires of me. I wrestle daily with every instinct I have to protect them, to fight for them, to make sure they never suffer. I have to lay that down and allow God to speak over my wiring. To trust that the One who made them is also walking with them.
So I do something intentional: I establish one-on-one dates, each boy, just him and me. Not together, but separately, so that each one has his own time, his own space, his own moment to feel truly heard and special. We go out and do the things he loves. And in those moments, hearing his heart, watching him grow, I am undone with gratitude. Because I don't always get it right. Even on those dates I always ask: "What is something you want mommy to do better?" The truth stings sometimes. But for them to always tell me the truth and to end it with "Mommy, I love you" that is priceless. I get frustrated. I apologize a lot. But I am learning, learning to choose when to speak and when to listen, when to step in and when to let them figure it out on their own.
Because they don't always want mommy to fix it. They want my presence. My hugs and kisses. Someone to hold their hand and say I'm here the way God is always there. To show up and listen — big ears, like Mickey Mouse — and to remind them who they are in Christ and the authority they carry in Him. That is what they need most. And that is something I can always give.
That grace found its way into our home, into how we speak to each other, how we repair when we get it wrong, how we try again. In our home, we have a rule. It didn't come down from a book, but reading this one helped me understand why it matters so deeply to me:
When you have boys in your house, respect isn't just a word on a chalkboard. It's how they know they are safe to share what's in their hearts. It's the understanding that even in disagreement, even in the heat of a fight, how we treat each other still matters. Recently that was tested in a real and ordinary way. My older son called his brother a hurtful name in the middle of a disagreement. The younger one came straight to me, clearly hurt. I was upset too, because name-calling isn't what we do in this family. But instead of scolding, I asked him first: "Do you need a hug?" He nodded. So I sat with him, listened to everything he was feeling, and let him process it. Then I went to the older brother and listened to his side too. And together we talked about what it means to be a brother: "We don't say things that hurt others because it matters what we say. You were upset, and I understand, but words can hurt." They both understood. They apologized. They hugged.
"Respect is what allows love to grow. Without respect, love can't fully flourish."
Dr. Emerson Eggerichs · Mother & SonBecause I have seen it firsthand, what our words can do. I have seen a heart shatter when I spoke without respect. And I have seen what happens when I choose differently, when I look at my boys and truly respect them. Their faces change. Something lifts in their chest. They stand a little taller, a little more certain of who they are. Being a boy mom has really widened my heart and reminded me that my heart can display love and hold respect hand in hand. That is not a small thing. That is everything.
It is humbling to know that we, as mothers, carry that kind of authority, the authority to build or to break. And to be their mom, to get to be the one who humbly lifts them and allows them to flourish, is beyond priceless. I don't take it lightly. I don't always get it right. But I am grateful. Grateful for my blessings, and grateful that God walks with me every step of the way.
I know I will pick this book up again, probably at a different season, probably with different eyes. That's the thing about books rooted in something true: they don't get old. You change, and so does what you find inside them. The first time it taught me about respect. The second time it deepened it. The next time, I wonder what I'll find, what new season of motherhood will make those same words land differently. Because maybe that's what a book like this really is: not a manual, but a mirror. One you return to as you grow, and each time it shows you something a little more true.
Mothering boys is a journey of learning, grace, and heart-expansion. It challenges me to see beyond behavior to the boy beneath, to listen more than I fix, and to walk alongside them with love that respects — because that combination is what helps them flourish into the men they are meant to become.
"The relationship between a mother and her son is a sacred place where love, respect, and trust grow together."
Dr. Emerson Eggerichs · Mother & SonMothering boys has taught me that motherhood isn't about having all the answers or always knowing the right thing to say. It's about showing up, listening, and choosing grace, even on the hard days. And in doing so, I hope to model for my sons not just love, but a love that sees them, honors them, and respects the men they are becoming.
Maybe that's what respect really is: love that trusts. Love that steps back just enough to say, I believe in who you are becoming.
Written with love, from a boy mom who is still learning ♡
If this has inspired you, I encourage you to pick up a copy of Mother & Son by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. It just may open something in you too.
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