Friday, July 16, 2010
My Ethan turned 7 yesterday.
I'll let alot of you who know me...who know what has happened for 7/8 years...to stop and take that one in.
So I remember Ethan being born. I remember going through the tension of the birth and the tension of everything and remember holding him and thinking: I don't even know where I'm going to live in a month.
It feels like not much has changed in 7 years. Still trying to figure out where my address will be in September and living on the razor's edge.
Then again, so much has changed...so much it hurts. A lot of joy and pain. A lot of living.
Ethan is the gentlest of spirits with profound gifts. He's got big eyes that get bigger as he tells a story. He sings - oh my, he can sing - and every day, he goes and noodles on the piano, finding thirds and playing with a strange moving left hand against notes with his right.
But Ethan's greatest gift was given to him. He has a heart for Christ that is really different from any of his brothers or sisters, different from any kid I've met. He talks about Jesus all the time.
We're throwing the baseball and I keep telling him to stop flinching at the ball. And stop waiting for it. Step towards it and catch it. "Like Jesus, right dad?," Ethan offers from his "Little Visits With God" head, "we have to reach out to him and not be afraid?"
Yes Ethan. We have to.