Tuesday, January 19, 2016
A Letter to My Son
I'm sorry, little buddy. Big sister got a debut on the blog at only a week old, and you're now four months old. It's the life of the second born, but you've got good company in your Mama. We'll commiserate together, and I promise, I will buy your baby book soon.
There are perks to being the second child, though. This time around, the new mama angst is blessedly absent. The constant stream of worry that trickled through my heart with your sister is all dried up. I've done this before. I know we'll get to the other side. I also know how fast the other side comes, so I've sat and held you when the house is subpar at best, minefield at worst. I've kissed your chubby round cheeks again and again. You're such a happy baby, and you reward all those kisses with big smiles and tiny chuckles.
You'll get questions later about your middle name. I know because Daddy and I have already gotten plenty. Before you and before Anna, Daddy and I spent three summers in a tiny mountain town named Lake City. We'll take you there, of course; we'll take you before you can remember it, and we'll take you when you're old enough to love it on your own. It's hard to tell you what it meant to us and to our marriage, but the first time you stand at the edge of Windy Point and look down into the valley, I think you'll understand. We gave you the name Lake for the freedom that we found there, that you would run freely in the grace of Christ that breaks your shackles of sin and overshadows the opinions of men. The wide blue sky and far-flung northern hills where we learned to dream again - we pray that spirit over you, that you would never stop dreaming big for the Kingdom and for Christ.
Judah Lake, you are such a gift to us. We delight in you each and every day, and that delight will never wane. Whatever you do, whoever you become, you are ours. We wanted you even before the first day we knew you existed, and we will never stop loving you.
Read Anna's letter here.