Today is my son, Sam’s second birthday. As you can see, I’ve taught him how to smile. At the moment, he’s at Mainly Music with Ness – no doubt enjoying being the centre of attention and hearing his fair share of ‘Hasn’t time flown by’-type comments.
This year hasn’t been a great one, but today is a great day. Sam is an unmitigated blessing – still full of wonder and delight. Admittedly he seems to be developing his stroppy/tantrum side at present, but most of the time he is a warm, cheerful little fellow.
I’m grateful for the gift that Sam is.
At his best he is a shining light in my universe (a ‘twinkle star’ as he might say).
At his worst, he is a mirror showing me my own frailty and weakness, asking me to forgive it in both of us.
He calls me constantly away from my fretting about the future, back from my rehearsing of the painful past and into this moment, where all that matters is chasing him, finding him, carrying him, pushing him on the swing, or throwing his ball as high as I can into the sky.
His world is cleaner and simpler than mine, and he invites me in every day.
Its a world where it is still amazing to see an aeroplane.
Where it is worth dropping everything to watch the neighbour’s cat.
Where every walk is punctuated with rememberings from what we saw here yesterday. Where the end of the day is marked by recalling the names of those who love us, and never reaching the end of the list before sleep catches us.
And purest of all joys, he loves me. Not a day passes without his hand clutching mine as he hauls me into his next adventure. He delights in me and I in him. I am his and he is mine.
I give him food and shelter, a clean bum and midnight hugs.
He gives me a bigger world, and the courage I need to charge into it, or follow him into it.
I will forever be in his debt.
Sweet Jesus, what love is this,
that gives so much?
Through the love of this little one
You are making me whole.