Despite a Catholic upbringing, I've never considered myself a very religious person. It's not that I don't want to be. In fact, I've always been envious of truly devout people- people that feel certain that something better awaits them after this life. I baptised my boys, not just for the sake of tradition, but in the hopes that they might be comforted by a faith of their own some day. Catholic or not- it just seemed like a good way to start them on that path.
Although I still struggle with my beliefs, there was an instance in my life that keeps a certain window open in my mind to the possibility of God. It could have been just chance that we got pregnant without trying just three months after our wedding(considering my age and my child-bearing hips), but at a time in my life that would have otherwise been plagued with sadness and illness and loss, God sent me a beautiful angel.
He came home from the hospital 3 years and 363 days ago today, on the very same day that my dad came home from a stay of over 30 days in the hospital. We laid him on his adjustable, hospital-issued bed, just under the nook of my father's arm and they would nap that way for hours, both slowly adjusting to the world around them.
My dad grew stronger for a good while; they both learned to walk (my dad for the 2nd time) and he held his first grandchild, swam with him and read with him about trucks and more trucks, and let him claw the hairs from his infamously well-groomed beard with his surprisingly strong little clenchers, while my dad just laughed his big old laugh.
Max, you may never understand what a miracle you are to me. You brightened what may have been our darkest days and you continue to fill my heart with so much love that it hurts sometimes. I may not be a terribly religious person, but I thank God for you every single day.
Happy 4th Birthday my sweet little man.