eight

 

Another party come to an end.

Another year behind us.

Wasn't it just yesterday you came into my world, eight pounds of pure smoosh, red-skinned, and-- ohmy!-- with the whitest eyebrows that gave away your red hair even before you had hair to speak of?

Now you are growing into a grown-up boy. Your boyish grin has replaced baby teeth and there are lanky limbs where once there were dimples and rolls.

You are an amazing boy, Jackson Edward. You are quiet, but sharp-- never missing a thing and filing piece of information after piece of information away. You are rarely the center of attention because it isn't in you to demand the center of attention, and yet everyone who knows you loves you and even boys twice your age think you're a "pretty cool kid." You don't need a lot and you aren't phased by much, but you are thoughtful when it comes to others' needs and feelings. Your readiness to show affection has been a constant trait these past eight years, and I hope it always is.

Today we celebrated you.

It was simple and for a minute last night as I suddenly realized how little I had pulled together for you, I panicked.

I needn't have, because you are appreciative of the simplest of efforts.

(Which is exactly what makes me so wishing I had done more.)

I made a haphazard looking cake that I named The Abominable Snow Cake, rummaged in the cupboard for some paper napkins and snowflake confetti that might add a little something extra to the table, Daddy took the day off and drove you to pick up a friend, and Papa and Uncle Merrick came over.

And you smiled your Jackson Edward smile and quietly enjoyed the meal and slowly opened your gifts and I couldn't have loved you more for it all.

There is great treasure in you, Jack. Year after year we discover more of it, and I pray with my whole heart that, more than anything you could ever do with your life and all your talents and your great intelligence and your winsome ways, you will pour that treasure out on Jesus.