A Letter to My Son

I was feeling a bit emotional as my son is growing up, so I decided to put some thoughts down on paper.

My beloved son,

You turned seven today. Seven. After God blessed your mother and I with you, I blinked and seven years went by. The day we brought you home from the hospital was unseasonably warm, and you were dressed in a fluffy yellow bodysuit. I was worried that maybe you were dressed too hot for the conditions. I was concerned that we wouldn't know if you were uncomfortable, but you slept the entire ride home.

Since that day, watching you grow has been the best blessing I could ever ask for. From falling asleep on my chest as an infant, to telling me all about your most recent funny dream at the breakfast table each morning before school, I have enjoyed and tried my best to memorize all of these little things so that I will have them in my heart and mind forever.

Sometimes, I catch myself standing off to the side, quietly watching you while you read a book or work on an art project or build a tent fortress in the living room, just so I can take a mental photograph of exactly what you look like at that moment in time. You don't realize I'm doing this, but I don't want to miss anything. Often, I wish I could slow time down - or freeze it altogether.

I would be lying if I said that I don't get a little bit emotional at this time each year. Not only because it's your birthday, but also because, along with the Springtime, approaches the close of another school year. Each year contains its own amazing milestones, and I have loved being a part of every one of them. But if I search somewhere deep inside of me, I have to admit that I am saddened that there will never be another first day of kindergarten, or another graduation ceremony at the end of that year. Not another first tooth lost, or another picture day in the 1^st grade. I cherish all of these things, and the ones yet to come.

Please bear with me during the times that I may come down a bit harsh when there is a mess in the house. Sometimes I get frustrated in the moment, but just know how much I love you. After the initial chaos passes and I'm lying in bed at night, it dawns on me that some day our house will be renovated and no longer contain the erratically peeled wallpaper that your little hands couldn't resist, or the chalk and crayon marks on the walls, or remnants of spills on the carpet. While these things can be frustrating in the moment, I don't want to wish them away too soon. It's only another blink away.

In our bedroom hangs a placard that says, “You will never have this day with your children again. Tomorrow they'll be a little older than they were today. This day is a gift. Enjoy today, it will be over before you know it.” I bought that for your mom one Mother's Day so that we could be reminded to cherish every moment. I see it when I get dressed in the mornings, and just nod.

You may have noticed that, even though you are now bigger and heavier, I still pick you up and carry you - or let you ride on my shoulders - or swing you around. I will continue doing these things as long as I have the physical strength for them because I don't want to live out the words of that old poem. The one about picking up your child for the last time and not knowing it was the last time. It just sort of happens that one day you put them down and never pick them up again. As long as I'm able (and you are willing) , there will always be a next time for all of those things.

With all that being said, and as much as I relish the moments and milestones that have passed, please know how much I look forward to your growth and maturity, and everything you have to offer this world. I long to see you grow in the Lord and become the faithful young man that I know you will be. Your mother and I knave known for a long while now that God has big plans for you. And I anticipate what those may be with excitement! Please stay close to the Lord. Read His Word and pray often. This is the most important advice I can give you.

The other night after I tucked you into bed, I leaned over and whispered, “Slow down, Bubby,” into your ear. You might not have heard me, or you just didn't know what I was talking about. Maybe you were already asleep, I don't know. Just know that what I really mean is that, while I would love to keep you small forever, I also very much look forward to your future. I just hope and pray that I can raise you and teach you in a Godly way. I haven't been perfect. Lord, forgive me for my failures as a parent. I am still learning and correcting course as I go. I thank God every day for entrusting us with taking care of and raising such an extraordinary human being. And I just want to do right by God's standard.

As a seven year old, I don't expect you to be able to relate to any of what I've said here very much. But one day, when God blesses you with children of your own, if you happen to come across this letter, I have a feeling you may understand exactly where I'm coming from. I'm writing this letter as a way of putting my emotions on paper, but I know that your mother shares all of these sentiments as well.

When you were born, the most common piece of advice that we received, by far, was to cherish every moment because it goes by so fast. I tried to prepare myself mentally for this, but I still wasn't ready. Watching you grow has been such a joy, and I want to relish every moment of it. And I want to relish everything in your future as well.

Your mother and I love you so very much. You are truly the best blessing that has ever happened to us. And no matter how much you grow up, you will always be our son.

-Dad