My son is seven. It's an age where he's altogether so big yet so little. He has matured emotionally, grown, of course, physically, yet still relishes in being scooped up, cuddled, and covered with kisses. It is an age where he still dances to Elmo with his brother and sister but sometimes wants to be on his tablet alone. He still likes his nickname --Jaguar--but only at home, not in public. He can read and write well and knows more about marine life than most adults, but is still afraid of the dark. He exclaims that his sister is the cutest girl in the world and understands that his brother is a late bloomer, but still believes in Santa and asked for a shark costume on his wish list. (His wishlist also included costumes for the rest of the family, and we could tell this by the way he specified a "babys whale shark costume" for Abigail.) He delights in giving and is grateful in receiving. His heart amazes me and his love humbles me.
My son is seven. At an age where he's altogether too big and still so little, my heart feels strangely fragile. How much longer can I hold on like this? How much longer until we can no longer do that? How much baby do I still have left and when does the boy become a man?
So Lord, hold my mommy heart tonight. Show me where to hold on and where to let go. Teach me to teach him to be like You. Lead me and guide me where I am scared and in the dark. May my anxious heart rest, as he sleeps now, in the comfort of knowing that You are so big and never too small for me. Thank You for my beautiful seven year-old.
