I don't even know where to start. How was it that a year ago I didn't even know you? It's hard to imagine a day when I couldn't conjure up your smile at will, when I hadn't yet heard your giggle or your cry, when I didn't know what it felt like to have you bury your face into my shoulder or crawl headfirst into my leg so I would pick you up. Did days really exist when I wasn't greeted by your goofy grin, or when I was able to walk from room to room without your cherubic little fingers grasping at my hemline? It's hard to remember, and I don't really feel the need to. It seems you have been in my heart and on my hip for a lifetime, and I like feeling as if you and I have been intertwined since the very beginning.
You are still a surprise to me every day. I wasn't supposed to have a son, you know. I was pleasantly planning for our four daughters and was already adjusting my life accordingly when all of a sudden the doctor said, "It's a boy!" and all my aforementioned plans and (apparently quite faulty) mothers intuition went right out the window.
And then you were just there. All beautiful and perfect and ready to love me with the incomparable, all-consuming, enormous love of a little boy. Just like with your sisters, there was already a place reserved specifically for you in my heart, just waiting for you to claim it. You fit and filled it perfectly. You effortlessly made it, and me, your own.
I still can't believe that you are mine for the long haul. I watch you go about your day, pulling things from cupboards, throwing things off the couch, learning already how to push your sisters' buttons, and it always leads me to wonder, how does one even begin to raise a little boy? If I am in need of wisdom in how to raise your sisters, I feel as if I need complete and total enlightenment in how to raise you. I have no idea. Snips and snails and puppy dog tails are all foreign to me, not to mention danger and speed and all the ramminess that little boys can be capable of. I find myself already praying angels over you for the days to come, and praying peace (and possibly some blinders) for me and for my poor heart as you begin to explore and test your boundaries.
But Jones, it is in this place of facing the great unknown of your childhood and adolescence that I want to make you a promise. Dear boy, today I promise you that I will do my very best to help you become the man God intends for you to be. As I write this, I do not know what that will entail, or ultimately what will be asked of me. I don't know what sacrifices I will be called to make. I don't know how much of you I am going to have to be willing to surrender, and at this point I don't know how it will ever be possible for me to do so. I can't promise I will be good at stepping aside and letting go, but I promise you I will try (unless God's calling for your life means staying here with me forever and ever because I'd be really good at that, but for some reason I don't think that's the direction this is going to go). Already now I can see hours and hours of your name being passed from my lips to God's ears.
And I guess there are a few more promises that go hand in hand with my first one, so here's some more for you to hold me accountable to and remind me of when I go ahead and try to assert my mama-bear control over your life.
I promise to pray for strength and self-confidence for you, so you will grow up to be a man with the desire and the ability to head up a home that loves and serves the Lord.
I will pray for experiences and circumstances and role models in your life that allow you to see women in a positive and precious light. I will pray that you learn to treat women with honor and respect, and that you hold dear the opportunity to love and treasure your future wife in the same way that Christ loves and treasures her.
I will pray for your purity. I will pray that as you grow up you fully understand and appreciate the immeasurable value of your innocence in a world that has little regard for it. I will pray that you see the importance and the benefits of keeping your mind and eyes centered on holy things, and I will pray that God gives you a glimpse of the good things waiting for you if you choose to follow His leading in this area of your life.
I will pray for a loving and lasting relationship with you, even after you are no longer mine. As your mother, I know there will come a day when another woman will sweep you off your feet and desire to make her home with you. This is as it should be. (Excuse me, I must have something in my eye. Is it dusty in here? Pass me a tissue, I'll be fine.) It is my job to prepare you for this time in your life, and I will do my best to accomplish this. (Read: laundry, cooking, bed-making, foot-rubbing, etc. You're welcome, future Mrs. Jones Alberda.) Make no mistake about it though, I'm sure it will not be easy to watch you leave this nest. I have a feeling I will always see the little boy in you that belonged to me first, I will always want the best for you, and that is as it should be as well. But my promise to you is that I will love your wife and support her in her supporting of you. And more importantly, I promise to pray for her, and for protection and blessing over your marriage and life together. And then I'll pray that you all live close to me, like right next door, because I'm selfish like that.
And last but not least, I promise to pray most fervently that your father and I can raise you to love Jesus, and instill in you the passion to be a man after His own heart. There is nothing more important in this life, nothing more difficult, and nothing more rewarding than deciding to follow Jesus. I will continue to pray from this day forward that you will know Him. I will pray that you will experience firsthand his love, and his grace, and his friendship, and his power. And I will pray that you truly, truly understand and comprehend the unfathomable truth that the very God who made the cosmos wants nothing more than to make his home with you.
I'm sure as the years go on these prayers and promises I make to you today will grow and change, but one thing will remain the same. Jones Peter Alberda, I love you. And even though right now I look at you and feel as if I have no idea how to raise a little boy, you sure have shown me how to fall head over heels, madly in love with one.
Happy birthday, my Jonesy-Boy. It has been a crazy, wonderful, head-butting, dirt-eating, rough and tumble, snuggle-fest of a first year. I'll go get out the helmets and knee pads for the next one.
Forever and ever,
Your momma
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