Dear Will,

You are four years old. (Well, four years and one month now...mommy's been a little busy and hasn't gotten around to writing your letter until now!) I can't even believe it's been four years since you were kicking away in my belly, four years since we first saw that adorable little nose of yours, four years since you completely changed our lives forever. But it has...and boy, what a wonderful four years it's been.

You've grown up so much in the last year. You left toddler-hood and moved full on into little-boy. There's a little part of me that's sad. Not because you're growing up, but just because it seems to pass by too quickly to soak it all in. But mostly, I'm excited. You are so fun to be around every day. You are full of questions (sometimes so many I think my head might pop!) and are so curious about everything around you. You want to know exactly how everything works and if I don't know, you're just sure your Daddy will! You have one of the gentlest, sweetest spirits. I adore that about you...you love to give hugs (and will sometimes hug us 50 times in a row just because you can't get enough of it). You love to pet the dogs gently and play with them roughly.

And sometimes when I'm just enjoying your sweetness, you get a spark of wild mischief in you, which I adore almost as much as the sweetness. You love to jump and tickle and run (and run and run). You love to fight (evil...most of the time) and don your super hero gear to save the world. And I might love that the very most...that you truly think you can save the world. You truly think that you can be Batman and that putting on your cape will make the bad guys shake in fear. I never want the world to take that power from you, because you can save the world. Maybe not quite in as dramatic of a fashion as Batman, but you, my sweet child of God, are going to do great things for His kingdom. I can feel it and it gives me goosebumps.

You love to talk about God. You ask lots of questions - hard questions that sometimes I don't want to answer for fear that I'll be feeding you too much too soon. But it's hard to resist your precious little voice. You want to know everything about Jesus; how he died, why he died, why the 'bad guys' were so mean to someone we love so much. I think that last question is the hardest to answer. I wish you never had to know hate like that. We talk about what Heaven is going to be like and those conversations and your wondrous, non-wavering faith in a God that is bigger than anything I can imagine take my breath away. I pray that God will show your Daddy and I how to raise you in a home so that that type of faith doesn't fade. I pray that when you're 20, you'll still be dreaming about Heaven and playing soccer with Jesus someday.

A few nights ago, you wanted me to come snuggle with you in bed after Daddy had read you your stories. I came in and you snuggled up tight next to me under the covers and we talked and prayed and were still together. I felt your little brother kicking away in my stomach and felt your hot breath on my chest and I could have stayed in that moment forever. I tried to soak up every single ounce of that moment; the blue stars illuminated on your ceiling, the smell of Burt's Bees Baby Wash in your hair, the softness of your skin, the smallness of your hands, the coziness of that moment. Someday when you're big and grown and my hands are the ones that seem small inside of yours, I'm going to remember this moment vividly. And I'm going to thank God for giving me such a precious gift.

Happy birthday my sweet, sweet boy. I never dreamed four years ago my heart could swell to love you this much. I thought I knew what love was then...oh boy, was I wrong. That love then couldn't even hold a candle to the love I feel for you now.

Love,
Mommy