A Letter to Mark

Dear Mark,

It is hard to believe that you are now thirteen. I remember the day you were born so well. Labor had started for me two days earlier, but the contractions were so far apart that I did not need to be hospitalized yet. For two days the process of birth was beginning in my womb. I had waited so long for you to arrive. I wanted to hold you, to touch you, feel you in my arms, kiss your sweet face--even before I saw it. When you were finally born you were so small. And so perfect. Oh, how I wish I could have frozen that moment. I was amazed at how alive I felt. My body had just went through an entire night of contractions, and I still had to work to get you here. Yet, the exhaustion of the job was forgotten the second they put you in my arms.

And in that moment I was hooked. You had my heart. From that very second on, I knew I would fight to the death for you and no one had even asked me to do such a thing yet. You were always a smiling baby, who turned into a smiling child, who is growing into a smiling young man. Laughter is your drug. While we struggle with the timing of some of your comedic antics sometimes, I really am grateful that you were such a pleasant child. You broke me in as a mother. Because of my relationship with you, I learned how to care for your younger brothers.

And I know that now you are at a point in your life where you sometimes feel smothered by your them, but I want you to remember that you are a good big brother. It was a role you were born to fill. Looking through old pictures, I have found so many where you are simply caring for your brother. Please know that your dad and I never expect you to take that position on, but we are overwhelmed to see the love the three of you share, even if sometimes you forget that.

I understand the last couple of years have been hard for you. Puberty is a time in life where you begin to find out who you are, and who others really are. As a parent, I want to shelter you from this period. As a mother I want to rush you through this period. But I can't. It breaks my heart to know some of the things you have learned and experienced about life. Because in not knowing there is an innocence, a purity. But I can't shelter you forever. I can not guide your mind, your heart, or your hands in making decisions. Life is rough. Christ told us it would be. Sometimes I am sure you think I just don't get it. But I understand the pain you are experiencing more than you know. And I promise it hurts me twice as much.

I know that you are a good person, I know you love the Lord. I know you have potential for greatness inside of you. I just wish you knew that--REALLY--knew that. Trust that God has a plan for you. Believe Him when He says "I love you so much." I know these years have been tough years, but you are not alone, and there is something else on the other side of this time. Even on the dark days when you just can't imagine anything else, I promise there is more. Life is more than what is right in front of you. The world consists of more than just your neighborhood. And even if you would have been the only person on earth God would have still created it all for you. You really are that special.

And I promise, with prayer and commitment to God, and one another, we will get through this time. And when we do, the next chapter will begin. But you've got to trust God to write it, because no one knows you better than He. And I can't wait to read the finished story.

I love you with all my being, baby boy. Happy Thirteenth.