BUCKING THE SYSTEM: CONNECTION BETWEEN A MOTHER AND HER SON IS A SUBTLE ONE

* When I look at Jerry, I think things just might be okay.

I started thinking about my oldest son, Jerry, yesterday, and the tears started falling, right on cue. Today is his fourth birthday, and it's a little overwhelming to realize he has gone from baby to toddler to preschooler in the blink of an eye, and is only a year away from being school-aged.

Jerry keeps my emotions at a high point. When he was born, the tears were tears of joy, just as they were on the day he was baptized. There also were a couple of nights during his infancy that I cried just because he wouldn't go to sleep, even after being awake all night.

As he got older, I've cried from worry because I couldn't help him when I knew he was sick, and from fear after he safely navigated some near-tragedy. Now that I think about it, I've had to keep a tissue in my hand quite often when dealing with this little boy.

Patrick often teases me that Jerry loves him best. While there's no denying that Jerry enjoys every minute he's with his father, the simple truth is that Jerry is my special child.

It's not just because he looks like me and he walks like me, which he does. He's also hard on shoes, soft on bugs and an easy child to hug, just like I was. And it's not the fact that Jerry is the only person in our house besides me that can watch and enjoy "ER," "Designing Women" and "Little House on the Prairie," all on the same day.

What a kid. But our connection is much more subtle than any of those things.

I think we have a bond because of a little prayer that I said for him about a week before he was born. I asked God to give me a healthy child, but also one who could survive the world he would be born into. I also asked God to help me give my son the tools he needed, not just to survive, but to succeed.

It was a fervent prayer, and one that has been answered. I see the tools being developed in Jerry each and every day. For example:

* When he tattles on his brother for hitting him but then says it was an accident so PJ won't be punished, I know that Jerry has compassion.

* When I see him tell someone that he needs a hug and kiss, I know he values friendship and family.

* When he says "Yes, Ma'am" and "No, Sir," I know he has respect for his elders.

* When I see him refuse to go outside because he was told not to do so without permission, I know he recognizes authority.

* When he tells me we should go visit his friend who is sick, I know he has empathy.

* When he questions "why," I know that he has curiosity.

* When he asks for the 10th time to go outside and play, I know he has perseverance.

* When I watch him master a new skill, I know he has determination and a will to succeed.

* When I watch him playing with his truck and singing "He Arose" under his breath, I know that Jerry knows Jesus.

While sometimes he gets on my nerves, and sometimes those tools I'm developing can be burdensome, I am proud to see that he has them. There are so many statistics in this world that make you fear for your child and think he doesn't have a chance.

Although it's true that violence, apathy and disease are ever-present, when I look at Jerry, I think things just might be okay. I hope I can make a statement like that in the future (especially considering my track record during the late teens and early 20s).

As for right now, I couldn't be more proud.

Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.