I feel terribly guilty as I sit here. You have been a year now for more than a week. This post is, in my opinion, far past due. You are fortunate in so many ways to share your birthday with the excitement of Christmas, and, as displayed in the coming and going of your first birthday, unfortunate too, to share it with the chaos.
My son. I love you so much. To think that your little light had almost been blown out before it had a chance to take hold...I am so glad you are here, and we have had a year together.
As I write, I can hear you singing and chatting over the monitor. What a sweet little sound I wish I could keep in my pocket, and pull out when I can only hear sadness. What a sweet reminder you are of joy in simple things. I know you have to grow--that those big unashamed of who may be watching, just because I love my Mama wet kisses, or crying while clinging to my leg, wanting only me, throwing fits when someone else pays you mind, nursing and snuggling, clapping for yourself, laughing at Sadie as she runs by you, yelling "DA!" from the top of the stairs trying to get noticed, glad to see morning, days are like sand in my hand. I have enjoyed them oh so much. There are, of course, no guarantees in life, no promises to what tomorrow might hold. We are only promised as we promise and covenant with our God--remember, you are mine for eternity.
Your dad and I play a game, it goes like this:
I ask, "Do you love me?"
He responds, "yes" (or he better respond that way).
I say, "more than..." expecting him to fill in the blank to some fantastical amount, trying to quantify that which has no measure.
He will respond with, "I love you more than the number of stars in the sky" or the occasional, "more than Sports Center."
Joe Joe, my boy, if you could ask, I would say, "I love you more than you could ever begin to know, more than the number of grains of fleeting sand that are in my hand, and I thank God every day you are mine."
Happy birthday, son.
My son. I love you so much. To think that your little light had almost been blown out before it had a chance to take hold...I am so glad you are here, and we have had a year together.
As I write, I can hear you singing and chatting over the monitor. What a sweet little sound I wish I could keep in my pocket, and pull out when I can only hear sadness. What a sweet reminder you are of joy in simple things. I know you have to grow--that those big unashamed of who may be watching, just because I love my Mama wet kisses, or crying while clinging to my leg, wanting only me, throwing fits when someone else pays you mind, nursing and snuggling, clapping for yourself, laughing at Sadie as she runs by you, yelling "DA!" from the top of the stairs trying to get noticed, glad to see morning, days are like sand in my hand. I have enjoyed them oh so much. There are, of course, no guarantees in life, no promises to what tomorrow might hold. We are only promised as we promise and covenant with our God--remember, you are mine for eternity.
Your dad and I play a game, it goes like this:
I ask, "Do you love me?"
He responds, "yes" (or he better respond that way).
I say, "more than..." expecting him to fill in the blank to some fantastical amount, trying to quantify that which has no measure.
He will respond with, "I love you more than the number of stars in the sky" or the occasional, "more than Sports Center."
Joe Joe, my boy, if you could ask, I would say, "I love you more than you could ever begin to know, more than the number of grains of fleeting sand that are in my hand, and I thank God every day you are mine."
Happy birthday, son.
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