On the night you were born
The moon smiled with such wonder
That the starts peaked in to see you
And the night wind whispered,
“Life will never be the same.”
Because there had never been anyone
Like you ever in the world.
So enchanted with you
Were the wind and the rain that they
Whispered the sound of your wonderful name.
Heaven blew every trumpet and played every horn.
On the wonderful, marvelous night you were born.
(On The Night You Were Born by Nancy Tillman, 1995)
6 years ago, at 10:12pm, my life changed completely when our 2-pound baby boy entered the world. And since that moment, I have had so much to
say about Jack and this journey. His
journey. My journey. Our journey.
I still have a lot to say, just not as much time to say it. Plus, he’s been talking for himself these
days. Non-stop talking. (Perhaps he’ll start writing, or at least
dictating, his own posts soon. He’s a
whiz with an iPad.) But, as Jack turns
SIX and gets ready for Kindergarten, I was trying to think about what I wanted
to say to his teacher. Do I tell her
everything, or just the basics. Or
nothing at all. Blank slate? Or book filled with pages?
And I decided that all I want her to know…all I want anyone
to know about Jack…and most importantly, what I hope Jack knows about
himself. That he is enough. That he is amazing. Simply
because he is Jack. He’s not amazing
because of all the awesome things he has accomplished in the past six years, of
which there are many. He won’t be
amazing for all the wonderful things he will do in the future. All of that may be outstanding. But
all of those things don’t make him amazing.
He is here. He is alive. He is Jack.
Or, in other words, amazing.
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