A letter on your birthday

My dear little Ev,

Today we woke you with balloons and you insisted that you indeed are turning ten, not two.

And somehow I feel that we all might always be questioning your age as you continue to amaze us with your knowledge and questions.

I see in you the same quiet leader that I see in your daddy and I know you’re destined to have an eternal impact, by God’s grace!

Your birth was far from an easy one, but your life has truly ushered in a brilliant spark of joy and we’ve hardly stopped smiling your way since those newborn days.

I pray often that the magnetic joy that you seem to hold would one day cause people to wonder about its source and lead them to Christ.

I remember the days when you were still inside of me.
Your daddy and I were praying about a decision that I knew would affect you deeply.

I wondered about it, how we could make a decision that would inevitably make yours and your future siblings life harder.

As parents we think it’s our job to protect from the hard —to steer you away from hurt.
But there in our car, we made the decision and I knew then that your life would be different because of it.

I watched you be adored by two big brothers from the very day you were born.
I watched them entertain you.
I laughed along with their silly dances that could keep you from crying.

I watched them play with you in the back yard.
I saw them read to you your favorite books.
I saw them hug you before bed every night.

I watched them be your brothers.
I watched you adore them.

And then without more than a month’s warning I watched you walk through confusion as you woke up to rooms without their presence.

I heard you ask for them often and wondered what to say —often saying nothing because, what is there to say?

You point to an empty bedroom. You mention them at bedtime.

My mamas heart hurts deep.

I think back to that time when I knew the risk we were taking for you.

I wonder if we did it right —did we bring too much hurt for such a little heart?

But then I think about what I pray over you every night—that you would be filled with compassion for others, that you would bring hope to the afflicted and understand the depths of His great love.

My sweet boy, to walk in this way requires a reforming in your heart, a breaking first— and then a softening.

And right now, as I watch your little now, two-year-old self try to walk through a heart-break, I am reminded that God takes ashes and turns them into beauty.

When your daddy and I walk in obedience it will sometimes feel like the very same act that Abraham faced —to have to cause you and your siblings deep pain.

But we know that no act of obedience to God will lead to your ruin, but rather it will be the best path towards your greater opportunity for growth.

Our yes to His bidding can be the making and equipping of you for every future battle you face.

Your heartbreak in these days can help you to someday see the brokenness of others with eyes of greater compassion.

I don’t regret our choice that day, even with a heavy heart today. I know that the One who keeps you is more than qualified to keep you through it all.

Our family will learn together, to count it all as loss in comparison to knowing Christ.

With so much love,
Your mama