Six years ago at this very moment, you were still trapped inside your mama's belly, and you were in no hurry to come out. This has become your normal frame of mind: not in a hurry. Unless, of course, you want something, and then a seconds delay becomes too long. To me, this is especially humorous because you owe me six days' worth of waiting because that's how many days past your due date you decided to hang out in my womb. I'm still waiting on you to wait, and I expect to be waiting on you to wait for the duration of your life. You do not stand still for anyone.
Well, let me correct my last statement ~ you will stand still for Mrs. R, your kindergarten teacher. In fact, you would do anything for her. You would knit a sweater from a cotton ball for her if she requested you to do so, and I dare say you wouldn't utter a word while doing it out of the fear you might have a blemish on your conduct folder. Can I say how proud I am of you for being so good in school? I must admit, I was nervous and even warned Mrs. R, who happened to be your brother's teacher, that we weren't dealing with the same kid as before. My heart swells with delight each time I open up your folder and see all those smiley faces lined in in groups of five. I am finding more of a connection between me and you these days, seeing little bits of myself inside you where I never dreamed they would be. And I am praying and hoping you get the best of me, refined and reworked by God to be greater and better than they've been inside my body. That's my prayer for you... that you get the best, and that it's somehow better because it's within you.
You've learned to read. And like the miracle of watching you stand upright and move forward on your own chunky feet for the first time, watching your eyes scan little black letters on the page and form them into sounds is nothing short of bewildering. I am amazed by you, by your excitement to learn, by the pride you have in yourself, by the way you hold up your little finger and say, "No, no... don't tell me..." because you want to do it on your own. You are one independent soul, and you stick to your guns. Though it creates tension between us, I love your independence. I can look forward and see how it will benefit you as you mature, and I don't wish to do anything to put out the little fire inside your soul. So we'll fight now, and I'll stand up for the things that count, and you'll give in to my demands when you know you have no other choice, and in the years to come, we'll learn to be the best of friends because you will understand how to live with limits and still be true to yourself. I hope that's what you'll learn, anyway. But me and you being friends in the future ~ that's a definite. You are someone I would have loved to be friends with if I were your peer. You are amazing.
The past few months, I am learning so much about God through you. I look at you with wide eyes, waiting on what will come next, smiling and laughing and taking great delight in you. And I am realizing that is how God looks at me (and you, your brother, and your father, too)... that no matter where I've been or what I've done or how many tantrums I've thrown throughout the years, He still looks at me in amazement and sees the beauty in His creation, the hope in my life, my future. I want more than anything to reciprocate that amazing love for you here on earth as best I can, and I am working so hard to understand the true meaning of love and how I can show it to everyone in our household. I will master it one day. I promise that to you.
Six years. My how the time has flown. With each year comes greater blessings. The challenges grow in proportion to your age, but thankfully the blessings do the same. Enjoy six, my dear. You'll never get it back. Ride your bike. Jump high on the trampoline. Swing. Laugh. Play. Grow. Learn. Love. Be loved. Know that you are loved beyond measure.
Your Crazy Mama