My firstborn turns ten this week.
I might be a little sentimental about the whole thing.
Okay, fine, I even wrote Ten Things I Wish I’d Known Before Becoming a Mom as a result of all this recent retrospection.
Since we’re celebrating ten years of life this weekend, I thought I’d invite y’all to the party with this week’s Five Minute Friday prompt:
[Tweet “This week’s Five Minute Friday prompt is: TEN .. Come write with us!”]
Ten years ago this week, I pushed with all my might when the doctor gave the command, and still you refused to budge. Never even dropped. Stubborn as they come.
So they cut you out of me, and then I sat for three days, reclining in the hospital bed with my knees raised, memorizing your tiny form as you rested on the pillow in my lap.
I birthed you in a land foreign to me, but through you, it became my own. You gave me a sense of belonging. Of purpose. I became more than just the American missionary, or the girl who married a South African man.
With the help of God, I brought forth life on African soil. And it became our home.
[Tweet “I brought you home, and you did the same for me. “]
Your stubborn beginning remained. Now you work it in your favor. Persuasive you are, and you know your power. You employ every imaginable argument to win your case, and make sure to flash that dimple on your right cheek for good measure.
Persuasive and stubborn, but oh, so smart and compassionate.
[Tweet “You use your gifts to His glory. You bless.”]
I tried to push you out in that labor ward, but instead you’ve pushed me out of my comfort zone time and time again.
You taught me how to crochet. How to braid. How to ask (and answer) questions.
You even have me training for our first 5k next week. <gasp!>
You’re motivated and driven, always cooking up new ideas and plans of action.
I call you my kitchen manager, for obvious reasons.
You started walking at ten months, talking at eleven, and haven’t stopped — unless your nose is buried in a book. Which is often.
You’re double digits now — but you still squeeze me tight and ask me to sing for you every night when I tuck you in.
And I’ll keep on singing until heaven runs out of songs.
Go ahead and link up your own five minutes of free writing on the prompt, TEN!
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