I Am Your Shield

Dear Lewis,

It was warmer today than it’s been in weeks. Your mom and I bundled you in warm PJs, a coat and beanie, and then wrapped you in a blanket before going for a walk on this beautiful, yet still cold day.

As we turned the corner on our way home from our two hour walk I noticed something strange at the end of our block. Someone’s sprinklers were running, in late November. The sprinklers were set in the park strip near the curb, drenching the grass and sidewalk. The yard in front of the house was steep, rising several feet on the house side of the sidewalk.

In short: we were trapped. We couldn’t traverse the slope of the front yard with you in your stroller. And we couldn’t walk in the street to get around the sprinklers in the park strip. There was only one choice; follow the sidewalk, through the gauntlet of water and cold November wind.

We devised a plan. Your mom would push your stroller while I would run along side it, blocking the water with my body to prevent you from getting wet.

We assumed our positions. In the most melodramatic voice possible I counted down: “3…2…1…GO!”

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You’ve Been Adopted By Your Aunt & Uncle

Dear Lewis,

I hope you love your new house in St. Louis. I spent a grand total of 20 hours in it a few weeks ago, and I loved every second of it. I can’t wait to be with you next week. You have no idea how excited I am to see you and your mom again, to hold you both, to kiss your faces, and to put you to bed so I can kiss your mom a little more…

I know you’re probably worried that I have no one here to take care of me. Rest assured, your Aunt Niki and Uncle Dago have made sure I have everything I need. They even gave me my own tube of toothpaste.

I hope you know how much they love you and miss you. Your Aunt Niki and I stood in the kitchen last night looking at pictures and watching videos of you. You may not believe me, but they have pictures of you on their walls!

You may not be blood, but I promise you, you are part of their family.

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God Is Not Fair

Dear Lewis,

I love you more than you will ever know. I can’t imagine life without you. You and I have been apart for one day, and already I ache for you. It’s not fair.

Please don’t misunderstand me: what’s not fair is that in a few weeks I will return to you, hold you, kiss you and continue to share my life with you.

Not every parent gets to say that. And it’s not fair.

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God Stopped Speaking…Thankfully

Dear Lewis,

Last time I wrote I suggested that one possibility for why God sometimes seems absent is that He knows we’ll seek Him more fervently if we don’t feel like He’s near. It was you staying where you were as long as you could see me, moving forward to follow me only when I ducked around the corner that put this train of thought in motion.

I also mentioned that lately I haven’t felt invigorated when studying my Bible, that the words lay flat on the page instead of jumping out at me like one of your pop-up books, the way it’s supposed to. I’m happy to say that changed yesterday.

It should come as no surprise to me by now that after hanging out with you today I’m beginning to understand why.

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