For the Remembrance of Tomorrow

Ezekiel,

I write to you now that I might remember in my tomorrows the sweetness that my Lord Jesus granted to me today. He has graciously given me many things. Today one of His blessings came through you; your personality. Your laughter. Your words. Your smile.

You bounded onto our bed this morning; dressed for church and looking as wonderful as the sunshine that poured into our bedroom. You and Charis squabbled for space between daddy and I. You made me smile.

You combed your hair before church. Daddy helped you a bit. You looked a handsome combination of your Papa's hair style, your Grandpa's blue eyes, and your daddy's infectious smile.

You rode your bike fast and hard by the water front. You waved to the train conductor and chased me in the park. You asked for a picnic. You made me smile.

You explained to Charis at dinner that no one is really "good," Only God is good. Then you paused and said, "And Jesus. But God came first . . . I think. But Jesus is God." You concluded with, "How this works? This is kind of weird." Daddy explained briefly about the trinity and that our minds really can't understand it. Your pondering made me smile. The subject of your pondering reminded me of the source of all that is good and the deepest desire of my heart: That you may learn to love Jesus.

I sat on the counter this evening, telling you stories of when I was a little girl. Your eyes always brighten when the story is mingled with mommy's naughtiness or a little adventure.

You explained your pajama situation to me this evening. You had put on warm fleece for your shirt and light weight bottoms. "My shirt is hot" you explained, "and my pants are cold. I did this because hot and cold makes warm. So I should be just right tonight." You made me laugh.

I climbed to your top bunk to kiss you before bed. Wrapping your arms around me, you hugged me tight and said, "Oh, I love you Mommy." You make it easy for mommy to delight in you. :-)

Your life is a gift and a lesson to me, graciously given by the Giver of life. I love you so well, Zeke, that sometimes I cringe to think of the responsibility that I have in being your mother. I have wished that I could just pass the job onto someone better. Someone who loves Jesus more wholly. Someone who doesn't get frustrated as often as I do. Someone with more energy. Someone more organized. Someone with more life experiences. Someone just plain better qualified for the calling. But then Jesus so sweetly reminds me that He is able to do what I cannot. He can be all that I desire for you. May you find your all in Him.