My Scott,
On Tuesday, 20 September, you will be a
whole year old!
I like to write letters to mark events that
carry weight in my heart, and your first birthday is most definitely one of
those heavy, happy things.
I’ve just gone back a year in my journal
to see what I was writing about, and what I was reading, around the time of your
birth. A few days before you arrive I describe how excited, exhausted,
hope-filled and uncomfortable I am… Then there’s the account of the day of your
birth… Then I skip to Wednesday 22 September 2010 – you’re two days old. All I’ve
written is:
‘What a wonder.’
There are big gaps in my journal in that
period. Actually, there have been big gaps in my journal ever since. Early mornings
with God, a pen and my moleskin are rare treasures these days, but I’m not
complaining, because I know he is still with me in the very early mornings when you are wide awake and my moleskin lies
closed with pages un-inked.J
When I think of you, and this first year
of your life, one word keeps coming to mind:
Luminous.
From the moment you opened your eyes in
that delivery room, you were luminous, and the incandescence that shimmers on
your little self seems only to gleam more brightly as you grow. When Dad looks
at you, he’s luminous, too, and I’m so grateful for that. I’ve said it before
and I’ll probably say it often to you, but your gentle, cheerful, chortling
disposition has brought me healing that I actually can’t describe. If another
good thing never happens to me for as long as I live – well, I guess that would
actually suck – but really, I’d be ok with it, because you were the outpouring that
overflowed an already full-to-the-brim life.
You are a glowing gift to your big
brother, too, and he adores you. (Today,
Dad found you yelling in frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Cam had you
in his vice-like clutches, heroically preventing you from climbing the stairs –
which you love doing – because he knew you would be in danger of falling down. You
should probably thank him. J)
Your health hasn’t been great over the
past two months or so, and we have really been praying for you. But the ups and
downs of viruses and new teeth haven’t thwarted your resolve. If I take my eyes
off you for a second, you invariably unpack a bookshelf, lick Lola or eat
something dodgy. I think you desperately want to walk, and every now and then
you take a tentative, collapsing kind of step.
My baby who is nearly not a baby: thank
you for the radiance you have stirred into our lives, and for the deep things
you have stirred in our hearts.
Two verses Dad and I want to share with
you as you turn 1:
‘But
as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives…’ – Job
19:25
‘…be
strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord you God is
with you wherever you go.’ – Joshua 1:9
All my love,
Mom
xx
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