I’m typically an early riser. And it isn’t because I’m cool and June Cleaver or whatever. It’s because I’m more of a loner. If I wake up early enough I get some time to myself to drink my coffee and reflect and read the Bible, and then Perez Hilton, and maybe write…alone. But, I haven’t woken early, not on any day, thus far, since we've been on vacation.
My spine and the coils in the bed don’t agree (on what I don’t know) and I keep coming out to the giant sectional in the living room at 12’ish and falling back to sleep at around 4. Only to be woken by my son, knocking on my forehead, saying, “Milky?” It is always this cute question at first and then ends up, as my brain starts to come to, being more of a tantrumy demand. “Milky! Milky! Milky!” Three bangs on my forehead.
But today, ahh today. I opened my eyes mega early. The sun was excited and knocking on my window. Get Up! My belly has a Christmas feeling. Why? Milky? Errr, what day is it again? Ahh. It is AJ’s birthday!! My little man is two.
On Meatball’s 6 month birthday; we fittingly, were having a meatball dinner celebration. That was when I got the call. I ‘got’ MS. It has been a year and half of sorting out life and values and what means what. Almost two years of comparing his little light to mine. His was brilliant. Mine seemed to be going dim. At first, yes, but that was brief. That feeling or observation of stark contrast was sobering and overwhelming at first. It was intense. And then, it didn’t matter. Because this little man, this little light of mine, was quite honestly, magic. So brilliant I couldn't look away. Especially NOT to look at me and my sickness.
Walking the world, his hand in mine, has been magical, despite the little uglies that have occurred along the way. Those little uglies are so peripheral compared to THIS. Him. Meatball. AJ.
I thank God for you every day. He has been so good to me, always. And I thank God for the men and the women that surround you and model what it is to be good people. That is, undoubtedly, the surest way to grow up ‘good people’.
I was reading a dedication page in a book about God the other day and the inscription was to the author’s father. It read, For my father, following you taught me to follow Jesus. If you don't believe in Jesus, replace 'Jesus' with the word 'GOOD' to help you to better understand what I mean.
I pray you learn by following me. I pray you learn how to follow the good and how to make small of the dark. And I pray you follow my friends and family in the same way…hands squeezed tight…always in the light. Happy birthday Meatball. Everything is magic in the world when I’m walking it with you…
