Our little man turns four today.
We’re already so proud of the little boy he is, and are so curious to meet the bigger boy he’s growing into…yet I’m still sitting here looking at baby pictures crying. (sigh).
These first birthdays, the early ones, are precious. These birthday that are still close enough to remember what it felt like when this talking, running, rhyming, creating boy child was still a part of my own body. These birthdays that celebrate the beautiful gift we were given 4 years ago; a gift we held to us tightly with a sense of disbelief. With the nagging feeling that we have to give him back. A gift so surreal, Bjørn wore his hospital bracelet for 2 weeks. Because it said ”Father” on it.
We don’t have to give him back, of course. Nor his brother. But they will leave us eventually. This, this, this is my weakness. This is the area where I cannot keep myself from being selfish, from shutting out everything else. I have to know them.
A lasting effect from clinic work in Malawi, maybe? The heightened perception that life — especially a child’s life — is not to be taken for granted. Not to be counted on. Do not worry about tomorrow, Jesus tells us. So we make sure to pour out our love today.
So, baby boy, if you read this years from now, I hope our actions in raising you matched our hearts. Don’t be deceived — I’m doing my best to raise you to always come home, to come back to us. I am not above tattooing ”CALL YOUR MOTHER” on your head one night while you sleep before you leave for college. And if you ARE reading this, I hope you have realized by now that not all my threats are empty. So sleep with one eye open.
Thankfully for us all, we have a few more birthdays to get through before we come to that point.