Oh, my heart
There are some days that my heart just aches in a way I’m not even sure how to stuff into the smallness of letters and words.
Life has been full and emotional and moving along so fast these last few months as we’ve been in my homeland and my heartland and I’ve been working late nights and long hours, perhaps a little more than I should.
I’ve almost not had time to think about my baby turning one.
But the moments sneak up on me:
I’m sitting on the bed folding laundry and he comes toddling over to hand me a ball.
(My boy is walking.)
I’m brushing past him in the kitchen and he says, “ah done” from his highchair.
(My boy is talking.)
I’m saying “I love you” and he leans forward to kiss me, mouth wide open and eyes alight.
(My boy is loving.)
And I realize he’s changed; he’s almost one.
Sometimes I wonder about all the question marks surrounding his life during my pregnancy. (Would he have special needs? How would we cope? What might life look like?)
I think of the hundreds that were praying, invested in his life, waiting to hear an outcome.
Strong and fragile, we trembled in the wait.
And then he was born – that moment – that long-awaited, glorious, painfully perfect moment. (The most triumphant moment of my life.)
And he was… himself. Ours. Exactly as he should be.
The questions were wiped away, new ones soon to stand in their place:
What was that all about?
Did God heal him?
Was he “fine” all along?
What about all those tests, those conversations, that research, that prayer?
What about all those tears and the words poured out and the hearts stretched wide-open and the souls laid bare?
What about those nights spent awake, waiting for morning to come? (Grace.)
What is it about his life that God wanted to call attention to, having so many pray and believe and rally?
Judah Matthew. Our boy.
“Judah” – give praise, make confession, offer thanks.
“Matthew” – God’s gift.
He was and he is.
A gift, immeasurable.
How do you describe that kind of gift – the gift of a son? The gift of a child? The joy and the amazement, the growth and the challenge, the hope and the wonder and the ache of it all?
How do you describe a gift that makes you born again all over again?
I don’t know how but my heart groans with love-joy-gratitude-something-so-holy-I can-only-say… thank you.
I give praise, make confession, offer thanks.
Oh my heart.
My boy – our boy – turns one this weekend. We will celebrate his life… and how’s he’s changed ours.
Dear friends, thank you for loving our boy along with us.
p.s. If you’re a sap for a birth story, you can read ours here: Hello, Judah.
[Joining SheLoves Magazine’s synchroblog: Awake.]