I've Got to Keep Your Faith, Baby

When I was little, I loved the short (very short) story found in the back of Highlights magazine. It would substitute words in a sentence with pictures, so you would learn to identify objects that were important to that story.

For example:

I am in love with a boy named . I think that is one of the most remarkable people I have ever met, and yet when it comes to 's life, we are still struggling to see the complete picture.

One of the lessons life teaches you as parents is how to be afraid. It also teaches you how to be incessantly joyful, to count your blessings, and instill within you a great desire to start family traditions and happily stay home on Friday nights. But it also forces you to be afraid in many new ways. When Sam was born, we got a crash course in that lesson.

Our son has these big blue eyes that just reach into my chest and turn my heart into putty. They are usually full of life, but they are also often intensely observant of the world around him. And sometimes, though fortunately not very often, they just seem vacant.

It's this split of 45% happy toddler, 50% intense observation and 5% vacancy that cause Frank and I to tag team driving the worry train. What will Sam grow up to be? Will he be special needs because of his prematurity? Will he catch up with his little contemporaries we meet at the playground and learn to walk and talk soon?

Does any of it even really matter?

As parents we get so caught up in milestones, education, and the importance of being "acceptable", that sometimes it can be easy to lose track of the beauty found within those blue eyes and just thank God for all Sam is.

He is extremely well behaved for an almost 16 month old. People beg to babysit him, and sometimes we don't like to share.



He is exploring the world at his own pace. Some may find it slow - I choose to view it as savoring every moment. I respect my baby for having the ability to suck the marrow out of life and take his sweet time. He has his entire life ahead of him - who needs to have conversations right now?



His father is his hero, and makes an excellent transportation system. Why walk when you have your own rocket ship?



He's full of friendliness and compassion. Even though he is still so young, you can see how kind he is going to be.



With the exception of today, where he chose to spend all of his time in the whine zone, he is usually so happy and content. He is just a really good, sweet kid that doesn't give us any trouble. He can also drench our bathroom with one good splash.



He is tiny, but mighty.



Today I choose not to worry about learning disabilities, developmental delays, or the potential for future surgeries. I will dwell instead on thoughts of playground jaunts, Elmo songs and sharing an early morning cuddle.

Because no matter how Sam turns out, he has taught me about true love. Just as our Heavenly Father loves us perfectly with our imperfections, Sam will be loved by our shaky, imperfect love.

And he will be blessed.