I labored for my Big boy a good many hours.  At times, I think the physical labor we pass through for our children is easy compared to the daily emotional labor of fighting for them and hoping one day we birth functional, beautiful adults.  I have pure admission that I birthed my first born son as a scared, young, freshly married military wife.  Far from home.  from friends. from family.  But it's everyday since, this marvelous Big Boy is birthing me forward into, by grace alone, a woman.  A mother.  A daughter who is believing more and more I am well loved.

He is seven.  Big boy.  Seven years old.  Your firstborn birthday is different.  It doesn't just mark their age. It marks motherhood. Surely, I thought, by the time Big Boy reaches seven I might have a few things figured out. Under control.

I got nothing.

I'm more convinced than ever of my fragile state, desperate heart, and moment by moment need of grace, guidance and wisdom.

Motherhood scared me to death.  And it still does on some days.

I have no words to fully depict the beauty and strength of the young man I envision one day for Big Boy.  It's important, that vision.  He has a pair of warriors watching his every move.

I asked Big Boy to describe himself.  He said, 'silly, fun, fast kid'.

He has a heart that feels and gives, perhaps in some ways the world says is not for the male species.  to have heart.  strong feelings of love and grace.  and hurt sometimes.

but we're not interested in the world.  after all, their opinion will surely change in a few years and was drastically different in years past.  I fight.  I move forward with my Big boy and am madly in love with watching his every move, thought and word to learn more of just what is stored up in the core of his being. He is charming.  He is insightful.  He is a learner.  A thinker.  A researcher.  He remembers details.  He assembles all things with no manual.  He loves.  He is brave.

He is the son of a  military pilot.  God chose that.  Somedays, I hate it.  When i lay with him at night as he trembles with fear and sadness while Daddy travels.  I whisper how brave I think he is to be the son of a  military pilot. And when I leave his room.  I cry.  And trust my Father to comfort me that all is being worked for good.

Big boy is on his third home, third address, third church, third group of friends.

So we give him the One God that doesn't change.

Oh, my Big Boy.  You are marvelous.  I can't wait to see where your life continues......inventions, car models, soccer, knowledge, love for outdoors......your journey is well on its way.  Seven is going to be great.  I sense even you know you're getting older.

And we will keep loving you.  Praying for you.  Hugging you.  Cheering for you.  Crying with you.  And we know great things are planned for you!  Not just because of what we see in you, but because of the Truth that promises abundance over your life.  It's going to be great.  Seven.


  1. You are so blessed. And so is he. You wrote a beautiful tribute to him here. Thank you for sharing it with the rest of us.

  2. I love Big Boy's description of himself. I just love Big Boy more than there are words to describe! Thanks for this post Julz, it is (I agree) Beautiful!


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