I am so late with this, but since Man-Child isn’t really allowed on the Internet, no one has to know. (Except that I just admitted it…But we will simply move on.)
My Dear Firstborn. I wonder how you are eight. Truly, I have no idea. It isn’t simply that the years have passed much too quickly, but that you seem even older than a mere eight years old.
I remember those early days so fondly. It was with you, that I became a mother. Embracing the new title, responsibility, and selflessness that come along with it. When they first handed you to me, I had no idea what to do. I remember asking the nurse how to swaddle, and what that even meant.
But you, Man-Child, you were born knowing. And together we continued to learn. Each one of us grew and embraced our new roles.
I enjoy looking back over these last eight years. There are moments I wish I could undo and ones I would love to live again. Seeing your eyes light up at the glimpse of a train; enjoying our trips to the zoo, library, or arboretum.
You are an advanced child. Always enjoying things far beyond your years. You eagerly sought knowledge about trains. All the knowledge about trains. Every trip to the library you dug through books and movies to find and learn more. And you took me along for the ride. Never have I known so much about trains. And likely, never will again.
Your thirst for knowledge hasn’t faltered yet. You desire to know and to fully understand. You desire truth, wisdom, and depth. I love that our conversations go beyond the surface-level of life. I cherish the times you ask deep questions, seeking truth. Seeking real answers, even when they are hard.
And I love the ways you challenge me to continue growing. Perhaps not intentionally. But you, dear Man-Child, and I are very similar. We share many strong characteristics. And, oftentimes, it is through you, that the Holy Spirit has grown me. It is through you that I more clearly see and understand the love of God.
Though you are a strong person, you are soft and caring as well. I am thankful for the hugs you give willingly. The fondness you show to those you are close to. The ways you are remembering that others are more important than ourselves.
I pray for you daily. That you will never stop seeking wisdom. That you will remember that we serve a gracious, faithful, and loving God. One that will grant you wisdom, if you but ask and seek Him. You see, I have always known you would be used mightly, dear child. I pray you never turn aside from the works He is doing in you. I pray you respond to Him with a yes; even if it isn’t comfortable, even if it isn’t ideal, even if the path is lonely. Keep pressing into Him, my dear son. For He loves you even more than I.
Today, as I celebrate and remember these last eight years, I cannot help but be overcome with gratitude. Deep, deep gratitude to be your mom. Happy, happy birthday my darling son.