Nathaniel is going to be 17 next month. I’m having a hard time swallowing that. Regrets? Yeah. Trying to remember every single moment I had with him. It is impossible. I hope I remember the ones that count. I hope he does too. I hope he knows I did the very best I could, but sometimes even that isn’t enough. I hope he knows how fiercely I tried to protect his heart against the uglies of this world, including his father. I hope he will always know that no matter what, I have and will always love him with every fiber of my being. I yell, I scream, I get angry. I stress, I worry. But it has all been done with love. More love than you could possibly imagine. I spent 17 years desperately praying and seeking out what God wanted from me, in order to raise this young man. I wanted him to be everything I was not and more. He has the kindest heart and a gentle soul. He loves music and food. Sometimes he’s likes to draw; he loves soccer, even at its hardest moments. He loves to be encourag