D. and I want so much for our sons' birthdays to be days when they are celebrated and they can know that they are deeply loved. We decided to start the tradition of telling them their birth stories on their birthdays. Tomorrow, my Isaiah will be four years old. Four! Somehow my beautiful baby has become a boy. He is funny, smart, musical, athletic, and imaginative. He is such a gift.
Tonight before he went to sleep I told him how four years ago at this very time his dad and I were getting ready to go to the hospital. I had been feeling pains throughout the day but they were getting stronger and closer together into the evening. The pains I felt didn't make me sad--they made me happy because I knew my baby boy was coming. But this boy didn't have a name yet. We didn't know him. We'd never seen his face and we just didn't feel ready to name him until we'd met him. I told him how we called my doctor and told him about the pains I'd been feeling and we wondered if we should go to the hospital. The doctor said we should wait one more hour and if the pains were still consistent, we should go in. We arrived at the hospital at around 8 pm, and a few hours later our baby boy was born. He was born not long after midnight on January 5, 2007. This beautiful baby boy weighed 9 pounds and 8 ounces. I told my boy that I looked at his dad and said "Isn't he beautiful?" And he was. He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I told D. that I wanted to name him Isaiah. The prophet Isaiah spoke to his people about God's promises. He wanted them to know that they were deeply loved by God and that God wanted to keep the promises he had made to them. This boy was one way that God kept his promises to me. He was a gift to his dad and I. I told him tonight what I tell him almost every night--I am so glad you were born, and I am so thankful that God gave you to me so I could be your mom.
After I told him his story he said "Tell it to me again, mom!"
Yesterday I was walking and listening to a song by
Andrew Peterson on my ipod. The song is called "World Traveler," and it tells the story of a man who dreamed "about the great beyond" and about traveling the world. But the song ends with these lines: "Well tonight I saw the children in their rooms / Little flowers all in bloom / Burning suns and silver moon / And somehow in that starry sky / The image of the Maker lies / Right here beneath my roof tonight / So hold on tight I'm a / world traveler."
Isaiah, my oldest child, gave me a gift: he made me a mom. Being his mom is both harder than I ever imagined and the most beautiful gift I have ever received. His need for routine reminds me to slow down and to give him space, but it reminds me that I need space as well. His tender heart helps me to see the world in a whole new way. His active imagination helps me enter in to God's story--the "true tall tale" as Andrew Peterson calls it. His obsession with trains, tractors, trucks and anything with wheels helps me to stop at look at the everyday with wonder.
Before I became a mom, I had the chance to travel to 11 different countries over several years--I saw Hamlet at the Globe Theatre, I climbed the Great Wall of China, I walked the streets of Calcutta, and I explored Budapest. But this little boy has helped me to see the value of sitting still. This is a lesson I am still learning--I hope I can be receptive to the other lessons this boy has in store for me.
