writing

Dear Gus, Today You Are Six

Dear Gus,

Today you are six.

I’m not sure how this happened. I thought we talked about not getting bigger and you told me to talk to Jesus and I DID and you still became six.

And Lord willing, someday you’ll be sixteen and thirty-six and sixty.

But you’ll always be my baby I didn’t even know I wanted and definitely didn’t think I needed.

But, oh, how we needed you.

With your wide, infectious smile. With your chocolate donut smeared cheeks and squinted up eyes and hair that’s my very favorite on humid mornings when you’ve just tumbled out of bed. With your gusty throaty voice singing A Million Dreams along with Hugh Jackman and your soft pats on the head of our friend’s baby boy and your admonitions to me that Jesus lives in your heart and you need to be baptized but you are not going to talk to that pastor. Nope.

I love you so much, baby boy. I don’t think I can ever say it enough to make up for when I walked that dark path of fear and fury that my plans were not going my way and you were caught in the crossfire. How thankful I am for grace. For glory. For God’s perfect, indeterminable will that I can’t always know but I can trust.

Today you are six.

Let’s stay this way for just a little while. I’m not ready–I’ll never be ready–for what comes next.

Love, Mommy

 

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