It’s Ziggy’s birthday!!! I wrote this earlier today when Zig’s was at school, but I didn’t have pictures to post so I waited. I just put the little… sweetheart…. to bed, wayyyy too late on a birthday school night, and the mini-gremlin’s kicks and flails and begs for “daddy” had me second guessing everything nice I’m about to say.
And then I watched him sound asleep for five minutes, and now I feel honest again. 🙂
This kid turned four today, and he is seriously, THE BEST.
Five years ago, when I found out we were having a boy, I had all these visions in my head of what he would be. He would be wild, rambunctious, impulsive, thrill-seeking… an adrenaline junkie. He would be a tad thoughtless, oblivious, and in general he would have dirty fingernails (after-all, @campsmashbox ). Ziggy is none of these things. He is everything I didn’t dream up. I could not have, in my wildest imagination, envisioned a little human boy with a heart as pure, as thoughtful, as other-focused, and as aware of all that is good and beautiful, as this kid.
It is not uncommon for Ziggy to wake up as the sun is rising (while he has many strengths, sleep is not one), pause at the window, and say in his yet toddleresque and awestruck voice, “Mommmmmmaaa. Isn’t the world beaut-i-ful?” He says this about the stars when the moon’s not out, and the moon when the stars aren’t out. He says this when the sun is shining and when the snow is falling. He notices his sister’s new dress, my painted nails, and the new lights when they go up on the Woodbridge. . “Awe,” he’ll say to Ana often, without any prompting whatsoever, “you look soooo fancesome.” It’s a Ziggy word… fancy + handsome… and I will love it forever.
For his birthday, Ziggy asked for “the present Ana wants, because she’s been asking and asking for it.” I kid you not. He wanted nothing for his birthday, just “the present for Ana.” Ziggy. You. are. GOLD.
I have a horrific memory. I don’t remember bringing Ziggy home from the hospital. What I do remember, is Christmas Eve, one week later. At that time we lived in our other #tinyhouse – the one that also happened to be a church.
I didn’t go to Christmas Eve service that year because, one-week-old. I was home alone with Ziggy and I remember looking down at our sleeping baby boy, the only light in the room from the choir of Christmas trees just outside our frosty window. I remember soaking in the peacefulness of Ziggy’s soft breath.
As the Christmas Eve church service (which I could vaguely distinguish through our wall) neared an end, the amplified crescendo of hundreds of peace-filled voices poured into our blessed home. They sang together. Silent Night. It was an offering to the heavens. It was like Zig and I were all alone, and yet surrounded by a thousand angels.
I remember thinking of Mary… how she must have felt cradling her Prince of Peace in that stable so many years ago.
That Christmas Eve was one of the more profound experiences of my life. Miscarriage after miscarriage had left me feeling hopeless time and time again. And here I was, with the ultimate Christmas gift of a newborn son on a Silent and Holy Night. This memory will forever shape who and what Ziggy means to me.
Little Zig-man, happy birthday. You are a true and precious light. You have the soul of a poet. You are a treasure beyond treasures. Keep shining, little buddy. The world needs more hearts like yours.