Eight years ago today, Boy 2 arrived in our lives, full of love for us and needing love from us.
We named him Jackson because it means “son of grace”, and grace was what we all needed that year. Grace is certainly the gift his life has added to our family.
My son of grace once looked like this
Then he looked like this:
And this:
And my heart is bursting at the thought that he mostly now looks like this:
I stare at the tender-hearted boy he has become and I am in awe. A Mama’s heart has a hard time processing what her mind knows to be true:
That the toddler who tricked me into thinking he didn’t know any of his colors or letters is now cracking jokes about gingerbread “dudes” with sunglasses.
That the itty bitty who screamed for chocolate milk sippies at 5:00 am can now be found at the stove flipping french toast.
That the quiet blond baby who didn’t want to be left without Mama wants to move to Denmark and be a Lego designer when he grows up.
That the baby I couldn’t get to stop screaming all night now comes to me when he knows I am taxed and burdened with my day and hugs me as tight as he can to make it all better.
This growing up pulls hard on the heart strings, and the music I hear is a beautiful mixture of melancholy joy.
We give birth to babies and they become people without our permission. But the people they become are so wonderful we don’t really know who to love more: the baby we held or the ever-changing child who loves us back.
Happy Birthday, sweet Jackson Elijah. My son of grace, child of my own heart, I love you. I’m so grateful for the grace of your love for me, too.
No matter what has to change over the years, the love will always remain. That is a grace we can all call amazing.
