A Spring of Joy

Last night as I tucked him in bed, he hugged me long and hard. “Mom, having you here is what makes my birthday the best day ever.” I whispered my love for him thickly–this boy, this beautiful boy with a heart of gold.

He has walked through fire these past years, and I look at him and see how much he has grown. He is taller and stronger, lanky and lean. His huge brown eyes have lashes that will one day make girls turn heads. (Let me pause to scream, “I’m not ready for that!”) But even more beautiful than those eyes, is what lies behind them–a boy who loves life and loves God and loves to learn and loves to laugh and play and lives with an intensity that drains me in a beautiful way.

These small hours. I often find myself watching him when he doesn’t know I’m doing it. This boy, my oldest, who made me a mother 9 years ago. And I am in awe. Awe that I have been given this gift. Awe that God would actually entrust me–ME?–with his life and training and loving and living. Awe that he still loves me so much when I have failed him so often. Awe that he is so full, so very full of love and life and passion. Awe that time can pass so quickly.

I blinked.

And he is halfway to manhood.

These small hours.

I hold them in my heart.

And I am living with my eyes open, because if I blink he might be eighteen tomorrow.

Happy birthday, dear Ash. You bring more joy to my life that I could ever have imagined possible.