A note slipped under our door this morning (much too early, I might add) confirmed that he not only received the gift, but that he loved it. Such a simple note, but I love what it captures about our Aidan: his spontaneous heart of gratitude, the joy he finds in simplicity, and a bit o' wit to boot.
Last night, as he fidgeted and squirmed in anticipation of the big day, he reminded us every few minutes that this was his last such-and-such as a nine-year-old. His last dinner. His last bite of dinner. His last good night. And his last bedtime blessing. Then, as I blessed my still nine-year-old, he, in his sweet, comical wisdom advised me, "Savor the moment, Mom!" And so I did:
The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.
The Lord lift up His countenance on you and give you peace.
This morning as I looked through the birthday pictures, Phil Wickham's Beautiful started to play in the background. Tears threatened. I thought of the beauty that it is to raise a child. The beauty that it is to be loved by a child. And the beauty in knowing that it's happening. Right now.
Once again, I find myself heeding my son's advice: Savor the moment, Mom.