Has it been 8 years?

Today, son, you become eight years old. That means that somehow it has been eight years since the night your mother and I sat in the hospital room, waiting for your arrival, and you chose to reveal yourself just before 4AM.

I can remember holding back the tears the moment I saw you. I can remember holding you in both arms like a football on the 2 yard-line taking you from the delivery room to the hospital nursery. I can remember standing in the nursery watching you get cleaned up, weighed, and measured and yet with all of those memories I’m still so in awe that God gave you to me and your mother.

You’re my flesh and blood. You have your mother’s empathy and my sheer resolve. You have endless amounts of energy, and an enormous heart for those hurting. You have a razor sharp mind, and a memory like a steel trap.

Today, you turn 8 years old. And once more, I’ll stand to the side, holding back tears, brimming with pride and excitement. Because that’s what your daddy does. And I only hope and pray that God gives me the grace to be the daddy that you deserve.

Here’s to you, son. Happy birthday.

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