To Jim on His 8th Birthday

Jim,

It's been a bit of a day. I won't bore you with everything that has happened; it involves a lot of errand running and sitting in Nashville traffic. But there are two things that leave me exhausted as I attempt to write this annual letter to you. And I'll share about them because I feel like they are coloring how I see this day.

First, right before your mom and I headed to your school to eat lunch with you, we learned that there was another school shooting. This time in a Texas high school. This time 10 kids died. And I got hit with waves of sadness and anger and fear. Sadness for the lives needlessly lost. Anger because this keep happening again and again. And fear because you are in a school. Your brother will be joining you next year. Fear because my heart is so intertwined to your wellbeing. I want you to be safe and sound. But the older you get, the less control I have over your safety. It scares me. It doesn't keep me up every night, but every few months this happens and there's that hit in the gut.

Of course, we didn't tell you about this when we came to school. And in those 30 minutes with you in the cafeteria, I forgot about the fear. Because here's the thing, when you are happily full of life, it chases away many of the shadows that exist in my world. You beamed; quietly, but brightly in the lunch room. It was pretty great to be there with you (except that one of your friends who was sitting beside me thought that I was there for him and kept telling me strange jokes that weren't really jokes).

The other thing that happened today was right before bedtime. You melted down. I won't go into specifics but you went into a vortex of irrationality out from which you can't easily be pulled. Your mom was having car trouble, so it was just me. Guiding you through these moments is pretty hard for me. I'm not exactly sure that I'm good at it. Because I have to be loving, but I have to push you and pushing people is not my forte. It's easier to let you have what you want or to walk away, but I know those are not the actions of a good parent. So I persisted. It was rough, but we eventually came out on the other side.

I was completely spent when you finally went to sleep. You went to sleep in good spirits. The picture above is from right before bed, but I felt like a shell of myself. I don't tell you this to make you feel bad. I tell you this because even if I had to do this every single day, I would do it. I am not perfect. I am going to screw up this parenting thing from time to time. But I'm going to try my best even when it's difficult. Not because I am awesome but because you are so totally worth it. You are ridiculously loved and I hope you know that.

Of course, not every day with you leaves me drained. More often than not, you bring life. You have this wildly creative mind. You like to tell stories and draw them. You play them out with your Legos. I am looking forward to the day when you branch out a little more from Ninjago being the basis of those stories, but it is still fun to watch. You like to sing and because of the eclectic nature of your school and church music classes, you might randomly start singing a song welcoming Jesus to Jerusalem, "I Will Survive," "The Star-Spangled Banner," or a Miley Cyrus hit. It's never boring. It's also never boring because either you and your brother are laughing and squealing at the top of your lungs or you don't want anything to do with him. Such is sibling hood. But I hope as the years go on, that you will lean on each other more and more.

Your emotions are big and I hope that is not something you lose. Yeah, I'd like you to have a tighter rein on your anger; not to stuff it down but to channel it better. But I hope you never completely forget how to have a heart that feels everything in a big way.

My prayers for you are fairly simple: That you will know that you are loved by God, your mom, myself, and so many other people. That you will love those around you. And that you won't measure your worth by whether you are popular or athletic or whatever else people use to compare themselves to others. 8 year old you is not the biggest kid, the fastest kid, or the most adept at soccer. But you are amazing. Your heart and your mind are beautiful. Keep working hard. Keep trying your best. Keep being who God made you to be.

So it's been a bit of a day today. But it has also been your birthday and there are few things that make more happy than a day to celebrate you. I love you with all of my heart, Jim. Your mom does with hers too. We are so grateful for you and for these first 8 years. We are so excited to see what happens next.

Love,
Your Dad