I love being a Mom! A role more satisfying, rewarding, and filled with opportunities to be one’s best self—while helping another be their best self—is hard to come by. My spiritual practice inspires and informs me. Motherhood, I’ve learned, is one of my most important classrooms. My commitment to excel is second to none.

Even before my son became a twinkle in my eye, I caught a glimpse of a good mother-son relationship. Scheduled to go out of town for business, my colleague and travel companion Harriet invited me to stay with her and her family for the night. The airport was nearby; staying with her made catching an early-morning flight convenient. Harriet, in addition to being a colleague, was a dear friend and I affectionately referred to her as my “older sister.” I was excited to meet her husband and two teenage children.

Major kitchen renovations prevented us from eating dinner at her home so we went out. On the walk to the restaurant I observed Harriet speaking to her thirteen-year-old son. They were huddled together laughing, holding hands, and clearly enjoying each other’s company. It was intimate and authentic. What I witnessed deeply touched my heart and etched itself in my mind.

“That’s what I want,” I silently said to myself. It was a defining moment and offered me a clear vision of what was possible. Until that point I only knew what I didn’t want.

Clear, and viscerally felt, this vision guided me since my son, Brent’s, birth. A vision is an ideal and offers a way to evaluate, respond to, and put into context day-to-day activity. What moves me closer to this ideal? What moves me further away? It helps me discern the important from the unimportant. My vision for our relationship is a function of focused intent, and weaves seemingly unrelated actions and interactions, situations and circumstances together towards a meaningful, highly valued result. It’s a necessary vantage point on this journey with my son.

“Only a mother could possibly love that man,” is a phrase I’ve heard with reference to hard-core criminals—and even people with a few annoying habits. My willingness to overlook errors, and see my son without judgment comes far more easily than it does for others. This drove my former husband nuts. How am I able to do this? What’s different about this relationship?

From the beginning, I held the thought that a relationship between mother and son was somehow different. I wanted a boy and was so sure I’d get one that I didn’t pick out any girl’s names. I also believed that having a child was a gift that came with tremendous responsibility. I wanted to hold myself accountable and be the kind of person I hoped my son would grow to be. It was a high-stakes game and I wanted to be all in. I knew it was important to actively, consciously demonstrate this through our interaction.

I chose not to raise my son as a Catholic because I wanted him to find his own way in life. I did, however, put a framed picture of Jesus in his room and shared His teachings with Brent. One morning I was really worked up about something and ran around the house like a lunatic before we walked to the school bus stop. Brent was about eight at the time. Seeing me emotionally unhinged, he looked up calmly and quietly asked, “Mommy, would Jesus act like that?” Bullseye. This simple, innocent observation pierced right to my soul and stopped me in my tracks. “No, no He wouldn’t, honey. Thanks for the reminder,” I responded. Out of the mouths of babes, I thought to myself. His response was a strong suggestion to hold myself responsible and accountable for my behavior; to evaluate how it mapped—or didn’t—to the standard I set for myself.

I wasn’t perfect (and I’m still not) by any means, but I was definitely more conscientious with my son than in any other relationship. I would occasionally ask him to “rate me” as a Mother on a scale of one to ten. I’ve no doubt my position as a customer satisfaction executive for IBM influenced this “Mommy satisfaction” survey. Brent would answer honestly and then I’d ask what I could do to get a higher rating. It was a way of communicating that was comfortable, honest, and fun for both of us. I valued and respected his input, because no matter his age, I valued and respected him. And it helped me evaluate whether I was on track to fully realize the vision I held so firmly in my mind and heart.

For thirty-four years my vision has informed my actions, tempered my reactions, and kept me vigilant, open, and humble. I’m pleased to say our relationship is solid. It’s characterized by mutual trust and respect, and by open, honest communication. We enjoy each other’s company. There’s plenty of laughter and love. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that observing Harriet’s interaction with her son so many years ago made all the difference. It gave me an example to aspire to. This “son light” was a great gift.

This relationship taught me I have the capacity and willingness to suspend judgment, correct my perceptual errors, and glimpse the truth of a person. I can be selfless. It’s opened the door for a grander vision. I needn’t have “bad” relationships. My “son light” can shine on anyone, anywhere, anytime. The motivation and rigor I apply to my relationship with Brent can be applied to every relationship—friend or foe. The possibility inspires and excites me. I welcome any and all opportunities to test my capacity to love!

No doubt I’ll trip and fall as I apply what I’ve learned. But it’s a grand experiment I’m excited to be on. Thank you Brent. Thank you Harriet. I couldn’t have gotten here without you.