When I look back on that emergency, January surgery, those 4.5 months of bed rest, your speedy delivery on a Friday evening at 9:07’ish (no one really seems to know), your first months with us, your first recorded milestones, your first friends, your first team experiences, and all of the things in between and after, I am honestly overwhelmed with gratitude and a heap of precious memories.
I know this probably sounds a tad bit dramatic and probably a whole lot sentimental (you won’t be surprised as you read these words later in life) but son, it’s fair to say, “You’ve already lived 1/3 of your years in our home.”
And as I type those words and acknowledge this truth, I am overwhelmed with bittersweet joy. Because unlike some, I don’t want the hands of time to move more quickly, nor the grains of sand to drop faster. I like you “little;” I like you “big;” but I really, really, really like you living in our home (right now).
These little years have flown; these short days have zoomed; and these seasons and birthdays have been tearing past my heart and eyes in record-breaking speeds. And ya know what I want to do sometimes? Sometimes I just want to gather up all the minutes and all the moments and stick them in a very-large and very-safe “time-trapped bottle.”
And yet I don’t.
Because not only is that an absolute impossibility (not even Batman possess those skills), but I don’t really want to do that.
Because if I trap the moments, I stifle the growth. If I capture the minutes, I impede the change. And if there’s one thing I don’t want to do, it’s THAT.
Because in six years, you’ve taught and grown me so much, sweet boy. SO MUCH.
You’ve taught me the beauty of “letting go;”
you’ve taught me the joy of loving introverted souls;
you’ve taught me the hopeful belief that change is always possible;
you’ve taught me the healthiness of boundaries (again);
you’ve taught me the excitement of “child-like faith;”
you’ve taught me the importance of gentle words;
you’ve taught me the value of “slowing down;”
you’ve taught me the fierceness of loyalty;
you’ve taught me the helpfulness of “doing you,”
you’ve taught me the sweetness of sibling love;
you’ve taught me the necessity of adjusting expectations and changing directions;
you’ve taught me the power of prayer;
you’ve taught me the significance of consistency and follow-through;
and you’ve taught me the immensity and imminence of the Gospel.
And as I marvel on this 6th birthday at the beautiful and humbling ways you’ve changed and grown, I can’t help but “thank you” for all the big and gracious ways your life has changed and grown mine.
You are a treasure, my son–a blessing unable to be measured and a joy which cannot be compared–and I thank you for all of the many, many ways your life has been used by God to change me from the inside-out, the outside-in.
Your Mommy (always)