To My Almost Seven Year Old

Oh buddy. You'll be 7 years old tomorrow, which seems so big to me. But not to you, because tonight you seemed sad and I finally pulled it out of you that what you really want is to be 8 years old tomorrow, not 7. But I told you that I didn't want you skipping one day or season or year to get to the next one. I love seeing who you are becoming every day.

At times you are silly. You have a quiet but quick wit that is easily missed except by those who know you best. You have a strange aversion to the "th" sound and have been known to intentionally omit those letters from your spelling words. You catch me off guard with your funny expressions. The other day I heard a huge crash followed by the words, "At least my face is okay." You make me laugh every day.

You may be silly but you are also serious, and you've been that way since you were born. You have always been a thinker. You ask deep questions, like last night when you were trying to process what it means to be homeless. You want to know what to expect and get nervous in new situations. You are a numbers guy - from dates to temperatures to baseball stats, you love to know details and love to share interesting facts with me. 

You can be incredibly focused. You hiked 30 miles in the Grand Tetons this summer. You work out like a beast, as long as Toby Mac is playing in the background. You will play baseball with your dad for hours, and when you get focused you will not stop, even to the point of frustration. You have a tender heart and you worry when other people are upset.

You love music. You are learning to play the piano, and you listen to your radio every night. I am always hearing, "Mom, can you turn it up? I love this song," from the backseat. You are slow to get up in the morning and prefer to stay at home rather than rush out the door to get somewhere. You eat like a horse already, so I'm not sure what I'm going to do about that. 

You loved watching the Braves make it all the way to the World Series this year. Even in my sleep I hear the sound of a tennis ball bouncing against the glass door in the kitchen, and you are always asking me to choose the teams for your ongoing "kitchen series" baseball games. I'll miss that tennis ball knocking things off the counters one day.

Owen, I love that you want to learn. I love your laugh and your constant chatter. I love your tender heart. I've told you from before you were born that God has a good plan for your life. I've whispered over you for seven years now, "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified or discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

You are growing in wisdom and grace, buddy. I can't wait to see what this year holds for you. Happy birthday, my almost-seven-year-old!