Sage: Twenty-One Months

Oh, Sage. What a month it’s been.

What a crazy past week it’s been.

On Saturday, I dropped you and your mother off at the airport. You visited your Aunt Amanda, Uncle Paul, and your cousins Mollie and Maggie.

While you were gone, I:

  • discovered that one of our cars was officially dead, having driven over 226,000 miles.
  • had a job interview for a promotion
  • had my first day with our new church’s youth group
  • got into an accident that totaled our other car
  • led a workshop on stand-up comedy, despite having done original stand-up only once

Apparently, you learned some new words while you were gone: “squirrel” and “ice cream cone.” I think you had a more fun week than I did.

You came back with more hair (I’m sure of it), and it was blonder than when you left. You got back home after midnight. I opened the car door and pulled you out of your car seat. You snuggled in to my chest immediately. It felt almost as if I came home.

I’ll level with you… the night after the accident, I had terrible nightmares. I kept dreaming about the accident over and over, except that in the dream, you and your mother were in the car. It was hit on the passenger side, which is where the two of you would have been seated… and, you see, I was primarily at fault for this accident. So I kept dreaming that I was responsible for you and your mother getting hurt.

It was a tough night.

Some people believe that parents shouldn’t show weakness in front of their children. I disagree. I believe that parents should show honesty to their children, and I’m being honest here. I love you so much that the thought of you being hurt makes me lose sleep. That’s not weakness; I’ll never believe that it is.

Love threatens you. Love exposes you. Love leaves you open for pain. In fact, while love always hopes and perseveres, the dirty little secret is that love also freaks the heck out at the slightest suggestion that your loved one is suffering.

Love is so risky. It’s much easier not to love. It’s much easier to only think about yourself.

But here’s my advice to you: love.

Love, love, love.

Don’t be fooled: passion isn’t the same as love, although they have a lot in common. There are a lot of things that can masquerade as love… but love is something unique and more powerful than you can imagine.

Love is the choice to take the risk to be vulnerable. Not just in terms of being honest, but in terms of having the potential to hurt when the person you love hurts.

Be yourself, Sage. Be who you are. And when you do, you will be able to love so hard that you’ll be amazed. I love you and your mother more than I would have ever dreamed possible. It’s the most terrifying and rewarding experience of my life, and second place isn’t even close.

Sage… your mother and I love you so incredibly much. So much more than I know how to explain. So much more than I think can be explained. So much so that we’ll probably irritate the snot out of you when you’re a teenager.

You’re getting so big, so smart, so talkative. You’re growing up so fast. And, as cliché as it sounds, I love you more every single day.

I love you, Sage. Your mother and I both do. Infinitely.

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