A Mother's Speech To Her Son For His Bar Mitzvah

L'dor Vador

Hebrew, "From generation to generation"

These days of celebration go by so fast. I want you to pause for a moment and really take this in. All these people are here — for you. To celebrate your hard work, your growth, your journey. Every single one of them loves you, supports you, and wants the very best for you. So take a breath, look around, and really be present to today, right now, because this now is really special.

When I think about who you have become, I don't think in paragraphs — I think in snapshots of all the little boys I've loved along the way.

• The little boy who sobbed as I put his pajamas on, mostly asleep–but absolutely certain he needed to wear his Batman pajamas. He didn't have Batman pajamas.

• The little boy who loved the Winnie the Pooh ride so much, we went on 18 times in a row.

• The little boy who, when we drove around hoping he'd fall asleep, pointed at house after house saying 'that's not our house' until we gave up and went home.

• The little boy who would throw himself into my arms bawling after I gave him a consequence for crossing the line.

• The little boy who ran into Luis Vuitton at top speed while I was looking at a purse, puked all over the floor, then pointed at me and stated, "that's my mommy!"

• The little boy who wasn't interested in reading until he discovered Pokemon cards—and then became a fluent reader in 3 months just so he could play.

• The little boy who screamed 'that's nature!' and pulled his friends away when they weren't being kind to a bug.

• The little boy who sang me a lullaby from his car seat when I was sad about Athen's death.

• The little boy who was so excited to see another Jedi at the Renaissance Fair one year that he couldn't even go up and talk to him. And when I introduced them, he looked that much bigger man up and down, and said only, "You are wearing Obi-Wan Kenobi's robes but that is Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber."

• The little boy who when I tried to take a picture of his time-out chair for a Facebook post, insisted on being in the photo too.

• The little boy who whispered to Casey at the very end, “You were the best dog and I will always love you.”

• The boy, who tested into 8th grade math as a 7th grader - a choice he made entirely on his own, without asking permission or even telling me first.

• The boy who, no matter what mistake he makes, will always apologize and make it right.

All of those moments–and so many more– define you. You learned to read in three months when it mattered to you. You whispered goodbye to your dog with such tenderness. You confronted a Jedi about his lightsaber without hesitation. But the main thing about you? Your heart. You love so many people so completely—and that is just one of the many things that makes you extraordinary. 

From the moment you were born, I've had so many wishes for you. Today, I want to share just a few.

I wish for you a mind that stays curious, always asks questions, and seeks to understand different perspectives — knowing that many truths can exist at once.

I wish for you the courage to discover who you truly are, and when you find your true purpose, to embrace it fully.

I wish for you a heart that continues to love as openly, as generously, and as fiercely as you do now.

I wish for you the deep knowing that you are never alone. You are part of a family that loves you, a community that supports you, and a people whose stories you now carry forward.

I see you. I am proud of who you are– and who you're becoming. And I love you — so much more than you will ever know.

Mazel tov, Sweet Pea.