Our son, David, turns 12 today. Twelve. It doesn’t matter how I spell it, it seems hardly possible. He’s nearly as tall as me and almost wears the same size shoe. I believe he may just turn out to be taller than his mother and I.
Twelve. I remember being twelve. I remember the friends I had and the things we did at school. I remember dreaming about what my life would be like and adding bits and pieces to that dream over time. I remember not worrying about things. I don’t remember Playstations, Nintendos, Ipods, flat screen TVs, satellite TV or cable. I do remember a big snow and sunny days.
Twelve! It’s only one year from being a teenager, four years until a driver’s license, six years until graduation. Twelve! It sounds different than one or five or even ten.
I wander what my father thought when I turned twelve. If he were still living, I would ask him what advice he could give to the father of a twelve year old. And maybe one day my son will seek me out for the same advice.
Maybe twelve is about dreams—my dreams for my son, his dreams for himself, and God’s dream for both of us. In that perspective, twelve sounds pretty good!
So, on this special day in my son’s life, and his parents life as well, I’ll remember that day twelve years ago when I got to see him and hold him for the first time. I’ll recall the many special memories we have made together as a family and the joy he has added to my life. I’ll give thanks to God for the gift he is and I’ll say a prayer that he will become the person God created him to be.
One thing is for sure. I never grow tired of being his Dad, and I never grow tired of hearing him call me Dad!
Happy 12th Birthday, David!
Love,
Dad
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