I swear, I wept for a day.
Moments that inflated my heart to near-rupture would be tucked away in his past, a building block perhaps, but buried by countless others and impossible for him to recall.
Silent snuggles, late-night feedings, living room dance sessions, back yard romps–the very things that filled my days would fade from his recollection as life inevitably moved forward.
An ache materialized that day, but it was nearly a year before I had an answer. It took me–A WRITER–the better part of 365 days to figure out how to capture what little I could so my boy could reflect on those moments later.
The week Justus turned one, I started a journal. And though I enjoy the journalling process, I didn’t do it for myself.
I did it for him.
I’m not very consistent, nor am I overly detailed, but I do my best to write down the highlights. I do my best to convey how a day feels, what an incident taught, how hard we laughed when he made donkey noises, how awful I felt when he knocked his tooth out (parent fail, by the way).
But mostly, I try to capture something beautiful that shows my son just how very loved he was on that day.
It wasn’t long ago that I realized just how similar the Bible is to this memory book of mine. Without the Bible I would never understand God’s love as revealed in creation, or His love as revealed in redemption. I’d never know all His works in Israel or Egypt. Without the Bible I’d never know of the mighty men and women of faith who lived in generations past. Without the words recorded in scripture I’d be left to piece things together on my own.
Without the Word of God, I’d be lost.
But, because our Heavenly Father knew just how frail and forgetful His children would be, He saw fit to leave us a memory book. He gave us the highlights. He gave us a record of His love and His character extending back to days we have no way of remembering.
And as a parent, I have some idea of how important that record is to Him. There are lessons to be learned, lives to be studied, and chapter upon chapter of God’s love written down for us by a hand that needed us to know.
When my daughter was born, I went out and bought a journal for her as well. The two journals are identical save the picture on the cover. My son’s book has a picture of him and I alone on it, while my daughter’s has a picture of just her and I. I wanted them to know how personal the book was–that it was from mother to child.
And, as tempting as it is to assume the Bible was written for somebody else, I pray that the words of this hastily written blog would have you consider this simple truth:
God’s Word is a record of His love…
And it was written for you.