I am sitting here at the desk, utterly in shock. Behind me, Ken is designing in Photoshop our son's one-year birthday invitations. I am in shock because.....well, (and I am not being cliche when I say this) I cannot believe a year has almost passed since he entered our lives.
The morning of September 21, 2004 was one of the happiest of our lives. Gardner entered the world and stole our hearts. We've seen him grow, change, and turn from a helpless infant into a curious and fun-loving baby....all in the time it takes to blink our eyes.
Today I was able to play the sub-role of a mother called "comforter." Gardner had his first real spill today; he fell onto a laundry basket and busted his little lip open. As I rocked him and kissed his tear-streaked face, his little fists grasped my shirt in bunches and he drew quick breaths and whimpered. I let him have his very first popsicle, the cold easing the pain and ceasing the bleeding. As he finished the last of it, he looked up at me with puffy eyes and spontaneously grinned, letting out a simultaneous, one-syllable giggle. "Thanks, Mom," he seemed to say through his sparkling eyes. "I'm better now."
Ken and I both teared up today when we realized that there will soon come a day when we cannot fit Gardner into the crooks of our cradled arms. There will come a day when he will not need us to help him dress, prepare his lunches, or even kiss his scrapes. By the time these days arrive, we will have hopefully instilled in him the foundational principles which will allow him to become a man after God's own heart. Yet in the meantime, we will take every opportunity to hold him close, kiss his tiny nose, and hug his "cute little form" (as my dad always says).
These days are so precious, and these days won't last. Lord, help us not to squander them.
Happy almost-birthday, little son. I love you.
The morning of September 21, 2004 was one of the happiest of our lives. Gardner entered the world and stole our hearts. We've seen him grow, change, and turn from a helpless infant into a curious and fun-loving baby....all in the time it takes to blink our eyes.
Today I was able to play the sub-role of a mother called "comforter." Gardner had his first real spill today; he fell onto a laundry basket and busted his little lip open. As I rocked him and kissed his tear-streaked face, his little fists grasped my shirt in bunches and he drew quick breaths and whimpered. I let him have his very first popsicle, the cold easing the pain and ceasing the bleeding. As he finished the last of it, he looked up at me with puffy eyes and spontaneously grinned, letting out a simultaneous, one-syllable giggle. "Thanks, Mom," he seemed to say through his sparkling eyes. "I'm better now."
Ken and I both teared up today when we realized that there will soon come a day when we cannot fit Gardner into the crooks of our cradled arms. There will come a day when he will not need us to help him dress, prepare his lunches, or even kiss his scrapes. By the time these days arrive, we will have hopefully instilled in him the foundational principles which will allow him to become a man after God's own heart. Yet in the meantime, we will take every opportunity to hold him close, kiss his tiny nose, and hug his "cute little form" (as my dad always says).
These days are so precious, and these days won't last. Lord, help us not to squander them.
Happy almost-birthday, little son. I love you.
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