Happy first birthday, b-bear! I marvel at the mysterious way you entered the world on a Seattle afternoon one year ago. You arrived – slowly, methodically, painfully. But perfect. Unbelievable. Angelic. Since knowing you, many things have changed. You’ve grown. You’ve developed your own will. You’ve become a blond.

But one thing is the same today as it was one year ago – you are loved desperately much.

I knew I would love you passionately. All things close and near, receive this degree of affection, but I was unaware of the emotions of motherly love. The Niagara reserve of tears for all things sad, trying, wonderful and joyous. The adrenaline supply that outweighs any professional athlete. The complete surrender of self. The plethora of pride.

My love for you could never be quenched. I loved you immediately and immensely. And every day of this year, my love for you has grow exponentially. It’s unstoppable. At your second and third birthday, I  believe I’ll love you even more than I do right now. It’ll be more true, more whole. I’ll know more and more of you to love.

With each passing year we celebrate the passage of time. We celebrate your existence within the ancient, unyielding walls of the eternal clock that absorbs our lives. As you grow older, birthdays may seems typical, average. There will be a few hefty ones in the mix to keep it fresh. And eventually, you’ll probably forget your age more than you remember it because the number no longer matters.

But today’s birthday is substantial – we pause to celebrate you. Your growth. Your potential. Your love and life. We let you know you are loved desperately much – by me, by your dad and by your Creator.

This will never change.

(And by many more people, some of whom joined us to celebrate!)

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