My Boy Is 9

Today my boy turned 9 years old. Where did those years go?

He's turning into a little man--definitely the alpha male of my household, and I love it. I couldn't ask for a better guy.

Like all mothers, I clearly remember the day he was born. Unlike many mothers, I had the insane idea to do the "natural" childbirth thing. Boy, was that nuts! They say you forget the pain after awhile. They lie.

I vividly remember hallucinating about Austin Powers and other such nonsense between contractions. I was going out of my mind, and I thought my body was going to explode in every direction. Scared, exhausted, confused. . . I remember apologizing to everyone in the delivery room because I didn't know what I was doing.

That just isn't a very pleasant place for me to be--the realm of utter cluelessness. I don't like being totally out of control and unable to predict what's going to happen next. No lamaze class or video can fully prepare a woman for the reality of that miracle.

And what a miracle! Out of chaos comes perfection: a healthy, spotless child, screaming to the world . . . loudly proclaiming the beauty of God's sweet attention to detail and His boundless grace. The depths of His love are seen in the precision of every tiny finger, down to the unique pattern of the prints. I stand in awe now, as I did then, that He would place this tender life in my care. And I try now, as I did then, to maintain control.

Ironically, God has spent the last 9 years teaching me how totally out of control I am. Every day.

But fortunately, I'm also learning how totally in control He is. Every day.