Dear Jacob,
This last week I’ve been thinking about dedications. Like, in books. Like, for the novel I haven’t yet written. Silly Mom, right?
I’ve sometimes wondered how authors decide to whom to dedicate their books, if the dedicatees aren’t somehow instrumental in producing said books. Especially when an author is prolific, is there a list of folks he or she feels must be mentioned at some point, more out of a sense of duty than sincerity?
Because I have this new, barely germinated idea for a story, I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’ve been thinking a lot about you. If the story I am imagining were to someday sprout and blossom into a published novel, I would without a doubt dedicate it to you, in gratitude for the gift of courage you’ve given me.
When I started writing this blog almost a year ago, I was confused by how a new stage in my life—one that would demand of my time and energy in a whole new way—could inspire me to add still something else to my plate. But these strange turns of events are the ones that must be trusted as God’s hand pushing us in one direction or another.
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Now I find myself writing here a few times a week and thinking about another story I’d like to share. Every day I do what makes me happy, and it’s something that’s good for our family, good for our future, too (that being caring for you :)).
Jacob, you make my life better in so many intangible, barely describable ways. You make me want to be a better person, in part to encourage you, and in perhaps larger part because you encourage me, with your gummy smiles and your sleepy snuggles. You bring me joy; you bring me peace; you bring me to new people and places, and already my life is exponentially richer for having you in it.
I know it’s random to write this letter to you now, without any real event to prompt it. But love will do that kind of thing to you.
I love you, little man, for the joy you bring to others, for the joy you bring to me, and simply for being you.
All my heart,
Mom
