I forget that the things that still shock me while living here will be normal for you, since this will be where you are raised.
Today I drove past a father on a motorcycle with his infant son. I was again surprised that yet another father was not holding onto his helmetless son on their two-wheeled adventure.
Yet this sight made me realize that what is normal for me is not for others. In my need for safety, I was looking at another parent as being careless and unprotecting while I’m sure they made it home safely, as many families do the same here every day.
My son, even now, before you are out of the womb, I want to shelter you. I want to give you everything. I want to protect you from harm. However, I am reminded that the reason I started these letters to you is to remember that you are not mine. Though I want to control and cling to safety and comfort, those are the things our God is trying to release from my grip. He knows all things and He knows best. He knows, my son, that I would not even be aware of such vices if I wasn’t removed from the land that I know.
My son, may you not fear. May you remind me the same! May you no seek only comfort and safety but walk in courage and strength in the unknown. Know, most of all, son, you are not alone.