To go back in time and re-live the day your first child was born year after year, going through each step, tearing up at the marked time on the clock that they entered your life, is so sweet it is painful.  My little boy, for that is just what he is now, no longer a baby boy, but a little boy, is three.  Oh, how he has taught me.

There is no change in my life that that I can envision doing more good for my soul than his presence in it.  He has given me the grace of mindful living, the slowness and beauty of discovery, the letting go of expectations needed for ultimate patience, and the compassion and power of love.

Three years and three very different lives we have lived in his life span.  Each year somehow brought us a new home, in a new state, with what felt like a new child.  His growth and spirit seemed to morph each day as I am sure it will continue to do so.  From the high desert in Arizona where he was just a babe aweing us with first words and first steps, to the blustery lands of northwest Pennsylvania where he made snow angels and friends, to the southland where he has become so incredibly aware and fascinated with the world around him.

Each year on his birthday, we have had a small celebration with the friends we have made in the short time we have lived in that particular location.  

And each year I feel the strength of the universe in those friends.  We have had the pleasure of meeting so many people, good people, through our boy.  Having children doesn’t stop your social life, I promise you.  It changes it, but in no way does it stop it.  The bond that you make with a mother, as a mother, is something I could not have predicted would be so utterly important and undeniable.

And oh, to see them play.

Three is certainly bittersweet.  I love him growing, but does it have to be so fast?  

  Happy Birthday my boy.  I love you more than roses love the sun.