The other day I thought Gage was awake from his nap,
so I peeked into his room to find him curled into a tiny ball,
chest heaving slowly.

I can't remember the last time I watched him sleep.
Suddenly I was overcome with gratefulness, and love and sadness all at once.

Thinking of how not so long ago, we brought him home from the hospital and there was not much
else to do other than watch the sleeping wonder in my arms.

He doesn't sleep in my arms anymore, and though this saves my back from ache, my heart aches in its place.

I feel so guilty some days, I only have three or four months before we welcome our twins, and yes, I am excited to meet them, and to see their sweet faces and to hold them in my arms for hours.

But I feel sad because I know that each day with new feedings and burpings and time spent tending to these helpless infants will mean a day for Gage spent learning how to let go of Mama, to do things on his own.

He's only 1 year old and I feel guilty for turning my baby into a big boy so soon.  I wonder if my arms will be big enough, and strong enough to nurture all three.
Sometimes I want to hold on so tight to him, and never let go.  This little boy who has changed my life and my heart, and taught me more than anyone. I don't want him to change.

I'm afraid and overwhelmed by my job of raising three boys into Godly men.  It's the most important job I will ever have.

How can you teach someone to love God with all their hearts, to serve him and others, to resist the desires of a sinful flesh, and to resist the enticing temptations of this sick world?

How do you teach honesty and loyalty, and hard work and chivalry?

By being, and modeling and crucifying yourself in Christ so that he lives through you.

So much of me wants to turn back time and wrap my sleeping baby up tight and hold him, safe.

But I know I can't hold him forever.  I have to let go. I have to teach and be teachable.

I have to hold on to Christ.  I have to allow Jesus to hold my boys while I begin the painful process of letting go even now.

Pray for me, sweet friends.  Sometimes I feel so very small in light of all that I am called to do.
But then I remember that to be small is better than being too big, too strong and too independent on my own.

There's a soft place in the palm of the Lord that I will always fit into.  I hope I can hold onto that truth forever.