T H R E E
My sweet first born is three today. He is full of love and empathy which I hope will only grow. His hair is crazy, and he can be too. He has taught me so much. I didn’t know how hard and deep I could love. I also didn’t know how impatient and imperfect I was until I was his mom. I learned some of that after I married his dad, but I learned it more fully the day he came into this world. I worked so hard for him to arrive. Pushing for so long. It was the hardest work I have ever done. After he arrived he didn’t scream or cry for several seconds. He had aspirated. It was terrifying. And then I heard him. It makes me weep thinking about it. It was the best sound I have ever heard. Then he was handed to me, and he settled immediately. His breathing calmed and his head rested on my chest. I thought I would never love so deeply. In that moment I held him my world changed. I knew more about my Father in heaven and about his fierce love for me. He loves me the way I fiercely love this little boy. But he loves me and my children and your children more because he gave up his perfect and righteous Son to save us. His Son was murdered for me. What love. What sacrifice. It hurts my heart and my mind and soul and makes me whole. It wounds me in a way that is life changing. To know that my God gave up his son so that I may live… it is life changing. In the day to day hum drum of changing diapers and stopping my boys from killing each other and cooking and cleaning and washing… (washing poop off walls, washing clothes, washing dishes, washing e v e r t h i n g) I can forget what my life is about. I get lost in the everyday. I want to live a life that is worth of my God’s sacrifice. I want to show my boys and the world my God. My God that gave me an abundant life and grace and freedom.
Back to my son.
My son. My first baby is three. His hands are starting to loose their pudge. You still can’t see his knuckles. They are still dimples but he is starting to loose the layer of fat on the top of his hand. Goodness I love those little hands and how expressive they can be. I’m sure I will be in disbelief every year he gets older. Watching a child grow and seeing how they soak up their world is just so fun. I love how he doesn’t see race or disabilities. He just sees kids and grownups. I love how he loves his little friends. (I know I’m saying love a lot. get over it) I love to see what he remembers after a fun day. Or how excited he is to see me when I pick him up from preschool. I love to listen to his thoughts and i absolutely love how he LOVES music. I hope I can foster that love even though neither I or his dad can play an instrument. Oh my dear son, you are a light in this world. A bright spot. Your laughter and smiles bring me so much joy. I truly love being your mother. I am so thankful for your sweet life and that you were given to me.
As much as I love this boy, I can get so frustrated with him too. His emotions are big. So that can be big love or big anger or big frustration. Motherhood is hard. It is good but it can be oh so hard. We are imperfect people trying to teach these crazies the ways of the world and sometimes we give them a broken cracker and all hell can break loose. I do feel the weight of the responsibility of raising children. I can get stressed and start to believe that is all on me if my children will be strong respectable men who love the Lord. I am so thankful that it is not. My God tells me to love Him. I have control of nothing besides what I pick out to wear and I’m not even in complete control of that. I can pray for them and I will do that all the days of my life. I want to show my sons how to live for something greater than themselves. To live a life with their hands open free and not gripping for control. Happy Birthday my dear son. You have taught me so much in these first three years. I love you. I love you. I love you.