And this is what You had in mind that night I sat trembling and watched the second pink line appear–this dimpled, rosy challenge to my spontaneity, who prefers sleeping on the floor to his bed and would be content all day if he could just have a running water hose. This is what You planned when I balked at carrying a life–these tiny hands that pull mine to his room when he needs a diaper change, and this gleeful voice that calls out every morning for “rah-seen” (raisins) and “mah” (milk). How could I have known that my biggest fear would become my greatest joy? How could I have pictured how You would change me? And yet this is where I find You, steady and laughing along in the sticky, messy, muddy chaos of creativity. You croon along to every lullaby, wrap love I still don’t understand into every kiss, make sure that the dreams are sweet when I turn off the lights and that the dog doesn’t play too roughly. You keep him from breaking his neck when I don’t get there fast enough to keep him from flipping off the couch. You’re the calm that whispers what to do when he starts vomiting during a road trip. You’re the barrier that keeps predators away when he escapes through locked doors into the front yard. Through tantrums and kisses, flooded bathrooms, diaper explosions, dinner meltdowns, giggles, snuggles, sneezes, when I’m stressed out, climbed on, pulled in a hundred directions and desperately in need of five minutes to breathe, You’re the sweet solace that whispers “keep going.” On the nights that I sidle into his room feeling like I’ve failed all parenthood requirements, You’re the one who puts a hug in his arms, forgiveness in his heart, and trust in his eyes. What You have done is wonderful. I know this very well. Thank You.