Sweet boy with the emerging curls. With the one-tooth grin. Who always greets me with a smile. Who pulls my hair and pinches my arms. With the big eyes, taking it all in. Sweet, sweet boy.
In His wisdom, God delayed your arrival. You are the last of this womb. Somehow that delay is so fitting. You belong at the tail end of this train, making things complete.
Our meeting was delayed. I saw you for what seemed a mili-second before they whisked you off to the part of the hospital where God truly works miracles. It was hours before I saw a glimpse of your helpless little body, shrouded in tubes and wires and monitors. Days before we could really touch, skin to skin. But, each time our eyes locked His presence overwhelmed me.
Intimacy was delayed. It was weeks and weeks before I could recognize patterns and cues that make you unique. I’m still learning and trying to understand…
Emotions were delayed, bottled up to be poured out later, when they could be fully grasped.
And now, more delays in your development. Understandable, considering your rocky start to life, but I see how it frustrates you day after day. We learn together and rejoice together when you reach a hard-fought goal.
So, we wait together, you and I, in this wonderful suspension. Watching the world pass by at lightning speed. And I think God planned this delay, this slower pace so I could slow down for you and and to notice the real miracles He is performing every day. And so you wouldn’t have to hurry and scurry out of the newness of life.
I love you, sweet boy.