Today is a special day. It's M.'s birthday. He's now four years old.
Thank You, Lord, for each day he's been with us. I remember the night he was born. MeMe & Papa, MawMaw and Auntie were in the waiting room anxious to see him for the first time.
Mommy was working so hard to bring him into the world. Daddy was a nervous wreck. Everything was going along smoothly until the moment M. should have taken his first breath.
He didn't. He wouldn't.
The medical team turned all their attention to him. Mommy was frightened.
"What's wrong? What's happening?" she demanded. She yelled at Daddy M. "Go tell Mama & Daddy. Quick. Tell them to pray, M. Go tell them to pray!"
They called for a crisis team. In a matter of seconds little M. was surrounded by people and machines. Daddy ran from the birthing room to the waiting room.
"We've got to pray," he said. His voice was shaky. His face ashen. His eyes were filled with fear. "He's not breathing. We've got to pray."
And we did. We sat in a circle, held hands, and begged You to help our new little baby.
And You did, Lord. I know things could have turned out so differently. I know You were merciful and gracious to us that night. I know that M. is a precious gift to us.
Thank You. I haven't forgotten, Lord. I hope I never do.
You're welcomed, Little One. Yes, just like all of your grand children, M. is a gift. Take good care of him. Teach him wisely. Handle him gently. Love him extravagantly.
I have very special plans for that boy, you know.