My Grant

I'm over a month late.

 

My boy is six.

 

 

I glance at him and then stop and then stare.

 

Where did my little boy go?

 

His legs have sprouted. Those jeans testify to that.

 

And that face, that face lost that final "baby fat."

 

Glasses now graze the top of your nose. And forget about putting you in Cars themed clothes.(UNCOOL)

 

One year of school now under your belt.

As well as two trophies that now sit on your shelf.

 

 

 

Each year I learn more about you, my sweet son.

 

I know you are my most introverted one.

 

Quiet at times and alone, quite content

yet also there's always that stubborn temperament.

 

Though the tantrums and meltdowns have become very rare, I continue to discover the possibility is still there.

 

So we work together, only by God's grace, to work on your heart to eradicate

the sin that plagues you, as it does me,

as the Lord shapes you into the man He would have you be.

 

Oh my dear son, I overflow with joy, to know the Lord crafted you to be our boy.

 

Imperfect am I as a mother to you

and relying on God's grace to know what to do

to know what to say when I lose it again or when you come to me, struggling with sin.

 

Forget perfect grades, a stellar career, a comfortable life where struggle is not near

My deepest desire for you far exceeds

the empty promises of each one of these

 

Run to the Savior who frees you from sin

Who gives hope to the most hopeless of men.

Dazzle in His glory and rest in His grace

Seek your pleasure in His lovely face.

 

That is my prayer for you my sweet son.

It is most certainly my most persistent one.

 

So onward we go, in laughter and tears,

as we navigate together another gracious year.