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the littlest


My son is the littlest.
He is a full head shorter than everyone else on his team.
We get hand me down bikes and clothes from my friend’s 3 year old ( we are almost 5).
He still has a pair of 18 month jeans that fit ( mostly we wear 3Ts though).
And the other day when I picked him up from school his whole class was lined up. And he was the shortest. Even compared to the girls.

I worry about this. Mostly about what will happen when he gets to junior high. Or when his little sister surpasses him (and she is well on her way, she must have gotten my dad’s tall genes).
But he doesn’t seem to know yet.
Yet.

Every few weeks or so he asks me to measure him against the door frame so he can see how much he is growing. The frame is filled with little sharpie marks and ages. More often than not when we stand against the door it is in fact time to make a new mark.
Progress in centimeters.
And just yesterday he told me that he was tall.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t. And probably never would be.
To just get used to being short.

Lately I have reading this book ( that I’ll talk more about tomorrow) that has left me unsettled. Left me wanting for a bigger life than this small suburban one I am in.

A few months ago I almost went to Haiti.
Almost.

But for those days where I thought I might be going I was so excied.
This was BIG.
This was scary and uncomfortable and I couldn’t wait.
Because I feel like I have been living this small little life for a very long time and keep waiting for something big to happen.
Don’t get me wrong.
My life is ridiculously good.
But good and BIG aren’t the same thing.
Sometimes they are even mutually exclusive.

And the trip fell through and I went back to feeling small.
Living small.
Doing small things for my great big God.
And a little let down and disappointed that God still doesn’t have big things in store for me.
That I am still so scared to pursue the big on my own.

But maybe big doesn’t have to be across the globe.
Maybe something pretty big is sitting across from me as I type.
All 39 inches of him.
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Comments

Emerald Devil said…
awww that was sweet. he is as big as his dreams and dont let him ever forget it! he will prob have a growth spurt before you know it! mine did.
April 14, 2010 at 7:41 AM
So Who Is The Crayon Wrangler? said…
I just found your blog through the UBP10 and I am astounded at YOU! You have a wonderful writer's "voice" and tell stories (even about dirty cars) that make me want to get you a cup of coffee, laugh and be best friends with you!
I am now a loyal follower.
April 14, 2010 at 10:30 AM
Anonymous said…
Stopping from the UBP! It was wonderful to read about your life and visit your site.

I really wanted to be someone important when I grew up. Now man years later. I find that I am a 45 year old stay at home mom. I find that my guys see me as important everyday. I guess God knew exactly what I would need.
April 14, 2010 at 11:36 AM
Anonymous said…
Wow. You know, he could really surprise you and shoot up one of these days. I grew 8 inches in a year and totally freaked my doc out. I was about 12. If that's not what God has planned for him, then he will be your little compact love bucket. ;) Only, I probably wouldn't monogram that on anything.
April 14, 2010 at 3:22 PM
Unknown said…
Good things come in small packages! ;-) God's got a plan for everything...and even when we don't know it or appreciate it (sometimes) it's always what's best...and it's good that you're learning right alongside him!

Stopping in from the UBP!!
April 14, 2010 at 5:52 PM
Upstatemamma said…
What an awesome post!! My son is little too - he is almost six and still wears size four. And my daughter (who is four years younger than him) is tall for her age. And while right now that does not matter I worry that when he is 15 and she is 11 she may be taller than him. And I think that would make him feel bad. Well, actually I worry that it will upset both of them. But my little guy sure has a super big personality that sort of makes up for his height.
April 14, 2010 at 7:16 PM
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