Author: wwyattrobinson

Once again this day has come and quickly going… yet here we are… Celebrating your birthday. For the sixth year in a row now, I don’t get the excitement of buying a gift for you, a card, or some chocolates. Lord knows I’d much rather be standing in the card aisle of Publix looking through the funny cards, the serious ones, and the ones just for “moms.” But instead I just keep taking my deep breaths, putting one foot in front of the other all the while longing to hear your voice, see your face (instead of in a picture), touch you, smell you, and just simply talk to you.

I hope you know you’re with me every where I go. I carry you in the silver pockets of my heart, feeling you flutter a little extra on days like this.

I cant even begin to fathom what a birthday in heaven is like. It must be one of the biggest productions ever! After all, I’m sure yours is the largest, loudest and most beautiful one on those streets of gold. I bet Jesus even walks beside you holding your precious hands that are now absolutely perfect. Those legs that once caused you so much grief here on this earth are now running, strong, and steady. And I just know that precious face of yours has one of those cone birthday hats on it, with the string wrapped around that Granthum chin of yours. Every inch of you is completely restored. Its completely ridden of all the faults and frustrations of this world. So I may be a little biased, but I think you’re deserving of a celebration of that magnitude.

And really… I don’t think I could possibly miss you any more on your birthday than any other day. It’s just that some days… you’re highlighted, brought to the front line defense of my memory. I’m sure your birthday is just another day to most, but for me, its something tangible. I almost feel like I can reach out and touch it. Then it hits me… That’s why the good Lord gave me kids. You are in them. Your laugh, your eyes, your blood,and your spirit. They are the part I can always reach out and touch and have you here. Just like that.

So today I didn’t get to buy the card, or stop by and hug you tight. I didn’t get to watch your grand babies love on you or watch them help you put icing on your birthday cake.

But I did feel a flutter in my heart.

Happy Heavenly Birthday precious lady.

I’ll be thirty next month. I truly can’t believe it. Didn’t I just rent my tux for senior prom? This is madness. My first twenty years definitely just crept by. Waiting to be thirteen so I was officially a teenager, waiting to turn sixteen so I could drive, and anticipating turning eighteen so I could… you know… I guess just be eighteen. I like eighteen. Can’t we all just be eighteen.

But, I swear these last ten years have moved with gale-force speed, taking my heart by storm. I am blessed. Again, I AM BLESSED. Blessed beyond measure and blessed beyond what I deserve…

By the time I turned twenty, I had already celebrated two remarkable years of marriage. It was just us, doing whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. No parents, no rules, and no money. Back when the only bills we had were rent, water, and power and sleeping till noon was the norm.

Since then I’ve experienced the rapture of learning I was going to be a Daddy for the first time. I’ve witnessed the joy on the faces of my parents who learned their baby was having a baby.

I’ve felt precious life move inside my wife’s body. Kicking and rolling inside her perfect, warm, stretch marky tummy. Thinking what have I done to be entrusted with this monumental responsibility of raising tiny humans?

I watched God himself come down and grasp mine and Erica’s hands during the battle cries and wailing of labor as she pushed those four little lives out of her warrior built body. I’ve counted forty fingers and forty cheesy toes through tear soaked eyes. I remember her every push, every cry, and every cup of ice. I’ve held 6 pounds of fresh, warm innocence in my arms, four times. Instantly becoming consumed with their every move, every cry, and every stained onesie.  From the intoxicating smell of fresh baby to the midnight wake up calls from bad dreams and throw up. I am obsessed with them. I am them.

I’ve experienced loss, grief, and the “whys” of death. My heart has been shattered and the silver lining ripped out only to scab over with grief, memories, and reality. The first woman I ever loved, kissed and called Momma was taken too soon from me. Losing her was the end of my beginning and the beginning of her end. Despite her physical absence I still try to take her everywhere. Whether it’s having her eyes, her grandchildren, or running my mouth too much… nine times out of ten she always shows up. Without fail she always represents. These are the only ways I can have her now. Most days it feels I’m still hanging by a thread. But on those hard days when the strand of grief is scorching my hands and I’m losing grip… I just let go knowing she’ll be there. And nine times out of ten… well… you know the rest.

Being a Dad has been my biggest, most demanding, most rewarding, most tiring role I’ve ever laid claim to. In the last ten years I’ve called poison control, done the Heimlich, slept sitting up, slept standing up, searched for pacifiers, swept up entire waffles, changed 4.3 billion diapers, and watched a kid poop on my kitchen floor. I’ve boiled enough noodles to feed the universe, and eaten enough leftovers to sink a boat. I’ve washed clothes I wasn’t sure were dirty or clean and taken showers with Hello Kitty and monster trucks under my feet. I’ve kissed boo boos and watched peroxide bubble under Barbie band aids.

In the past ten years I’ve realized that I am human. I’ve lost my temper and said hurtful things. I’ve held grudges and cursed my circumstances. I’ve made bad decisions that had repercussions and I’ve been ungrateful for great things. I’m human… and I mess up.

I’m only thirty years in, but this I know for sure… I’ve loved another with all my heart. We gave up sleeping in on Saturdays for breaking fevers under superman pajamas. We traded real dinnerware for Styrofoam, sippy cups, and Barbie spoons. We’ve adored, screamed, ate, threw up, spread germs, wished, hoped, grieved, and loved one another more than humanly possible.

I sure hope God’s got thirty more planned for me.

My calendar’s filling up fast.