My son is such a beautiful gift to our family. Of course he is getting bigger and don’t want to be called beautiful or baby anymore. It can be understood, he’s just turn 6.
I remember bringing home a tiny little baby, not supposed to exist in this world that day but he made it anyway. His wrinkle and jaundice body, just little bit bigger than a puppy, turn upside down my world in 24 hours. I am not a same person ever.
I also remember the love that seemingly never ended flowing out of my heart. A love that I can’t contained inside. A feeling that need to be given away, and no matter how much it given away it always come back again more.
That was the first time I learn about the un-selfish love, the time God trusted me to be a mother. Such love only heaven can produce. Yes, I couldn’t sleep overnights. My body was swollen out of shape. My routine broke down into pieces. My dream and hope were being reconstructed. But indeed, it was the very first time I felt that no matter how much you love you never lack of it.
I’m proud not only in my arms bestowed a little angel, darling from heaven, but also the responsibility on my shoulders to carry on this grace. The moment I felt complete. Onward I can see the world in different spectacles. And most of all, I can inhale the love of the Father in a new way of understanding. A better understanding.
The years I save as a mother is not quite large in number. He still has his baby voice and his eyes still sparkle innocently. I can see my dreams through those glasses. I used to communicate things beyond thousand of words I spoke. The language of love. Counting my days is never being the same again. It going faster every time, but I couldn’t be more hopeful.
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