Ten years ago today, I became a mother. It sounds like a cause for celebration - I mean: it is, but it also isn’t. Not today, anyway. After all, how do you really celebrate something without the guest of honour actually being present?
When Zac was born, I wasn’t a young mom - I was 29 that year, and probably thought I knew a bit. I didn’t. I had no clue about all that life had in store for us. And perhaps that wasn’t the worst thing, because I’m not sure I would have volunteered to undertake this particular journey had I known all the ways in which it would stretch, scare, and surprise me. For sure, I never pictured a life where my son, by his 10th birthday, had already left the nest.
Like many others have mentioned to me lately, I often need reminding that Zac is only 10. Sure, he has grown and matured significantly since the start of the year, but then there have also been signs right from the start. He’s always been a little more independent, a little wiser than his years, holding us a little further away, with a slightly looser grip. And it’s always been a double-edged sword for us: such admiration for the young man developing before us, and such reluctance to have to let him go so soon.
It has been an incredible first decade, and while I don’t know what to expect of the next, here’s what I do know: Zac James, you are my boy. No matter where in the world you ever are, you are always with me: pumping through my veins, occupying my thoughts, whispered in my prayers, swelling up my heart. I thank God for your life, and His calling on it, and pray that He will continue to guide, equip and protect you as His plans for you unfold. Continue to trust Him; He won’t let you go.
Happy birthday Cooks. I am so proud of you, and I can’t wait for you to come home so that I can hold you close and take you all in. I love you!
