How precious the gift that grows and unfolds before your eyes year upon year.
Fond memories of birth stay buried forever in a Mother's heart. The carrying becomes the caring. The pain becomes the joy and excitement. The deliverance becomes hope.
Hope that life will forever be sweet, kind, and gentle. That what graces his steps and his path will only lead to the One who made them.
Little footsteps soon to become fast, determined, busy, tired steps. May the love of the Father hold his hand close. To carry him, to watch over him, to shield him from what comes.
Now, to soak it in.
Never to forget the look in his young eyes, the smiles, the sound of his joyful, lite laughter, the ways his hands look so little, so small.
His quirks. The way he runs, the willingness to try without fear, the curiosity, the way his cheeks are swollen and so kissable after a nap or a mornings sleep, holding all of these close to remember him so young.
To love him. To pray for him. The future is unknown, uncertain, invisible to the human eye. Desperate to see. No matter how I wish I could see it, its not there for me to know. If only I could see what lay ahead for him I could train him, prepare him, help him even more, spare him pain but that's not the way it works.
The one thing that I can do for certain, that I know has endless promises, is to Pray. For there is One who sees all things, knows all things, endures all things, hears all things. And only He has the love and the power to set him under his wings, to protect him from all harm and evil.
Guide my littlest one. Burrow your way into his heart and soul. May he be a stronghold, a mountain, that cannot be shaken for your names sake.
Guide me that I may be a loving mother who so desires to uphold you. To teach, to show the love and the will of the Father to him, to guide.
Thank you for the happy birth of days. For the days are the true gifts of your will and your hand.