Happy birthday my love. Two years is quite an accomplishment. Especially when you consider all the hurdles you’ve had to overcome. Like walking and talking and using a fork. And all the while I’ve been standing over you trying to do it all for you, pretending I’m going to be able to willingly give you independence at any point in your young life. Yet, you always seem to find a way to keep me at just about an arms length away so that I am able to see how smart and funny and beautiful you are, and how little I’ve had to do with any of it.
Today I thought a lot about how different your childhood experience will be from mine. I remember playing outside from breakfast until dinner. I remember walking the railroad tracks every single day across town. I remember getting into insane amounts of mischief without ever having to answer to the parental convenience of cell phones or GPS or nanny cams. Since then, however, I have become very accustomed to control. Like for instance, I can send instant communication to whoever I want in a second, including the President of the United States. I can tell you the circumference of the earth without cracking a book. I can have food effortlessly delivered to my kitchen table in 15 minutes or less. I can get cancer tomorrow, and probably beat it. That’s how much control my generation has garnered. So yeah, it makes us cocky. It shocks us when we can’t fix or avoid life’s big problems. I truly believe it is the core of our mass anxiety problems. We’ve been programed to believe that control is within our reach, always. And maybe we have been blessed with conveniences that trick us into believing that. But in reality, we are left feeling emotionally stranded when that control ends up being but a vapor.
I dream of a simpler life for us. One where I don’t have to work. Where we could avoid the hurdle of you being sucked into societal norms of narcissism or materialism. Where you could experience an adventure and I could learn to let go of my need to create structure where there need not be any. It’s a work in progress. But just dreaming of it appears to be helping.
This week you and I went to the park by our little house. It was a really nice cool day but it had started to rain a little. The park was almost completely abandoned except for you and I… just two weirdos who can’t be scared by a little falling water. Towards the end you were starting to poop out on me. You got down on the ground and took off my sandals. We walked around a little, but every few minutes we’d stop to inspect a new leaf or ant pile or really rad long extra cool stick. Those are the moments I life for. They are the moments you force me to be down near the dirt again. Everything down there is so small. My legs have become so long, and my gate so wide, that I miss it all now. I am able to avoid all of those little inconveniences because I have bigger things to attend to. But your little things, like roly polys, that’s how life gets simple again. You take my sandals off and make me see how beautiful things are in your line of sight.
Judah, I hope you always see the little things. I mean, lets be real, if you are still trying to eat roly polys as an adult, we got problems. But if you can still love the simplicity of being small in a big world, your heart will thank you for it. Try so hard to avoid the anxiety of seeking control. There is no such thing. Prepare your heart for life, because life is best lived in adventure. And adventure isn’t truly adventure without a little danger.
I’ve dreamt my whole life about adventure. The places I could go, the people I could swoon, the money I could find. I had that scenario all wrong. I haven’t really seen anything or met anyone or earned anything so great as you. God had me dreaming of capers for 26 years, but nothing so great as the experience I have had being your momma. The millions of kisses and nightly talks in your rocking chair, they’ve surpassed it all. My hope wasn’t big enough to expect something like you.
Your aunt Kelli told me yesterday that God loves you more than I do. This morning while we drove to “yerk”, as you call it, we said our morning prayers and we thanked Him for that.
He still does Judah. You can be an adult reading this, and that truth will not have changed. His love is so great, so still and so real, it is ridiculous for me to attempt to control it. You are His. I pray every day that you know that. And if you don’t, maybe spend some time moving slower with a lower line of sight. See if the smaller things in this world don’t draw your heart to His.
I love you more every single day. And two years is a lot of days.
Your Sassy Momma