The house is quiet, except for the clothes thumping in the dryer. Everyone is sleeping as we approach the midnight hour. The decorations are up. The friend party has been celebrated, and the family party is next. Cakes are ordered, recipes are chosen, groceries are purchased, gifts are wrapped. In another half hour, our son will no longer be this age, but the next.I’ve teased him for years that I will take away his birthdays, that I forbid him to grow any older. At first he looked horrified. But now he smiles and plays along and says he can’t help it—he’s growing up. And that I can’t stop him. But every year, I’ve asked him to stay just the way he is, because I like him just the way he is. This new birthday feels bigger, more momentous than the others, for many reasons. He is turning ten, and we all put a little more weight and extra meaning when a new decade dawns. He is moving into double digits and will never again be just a single digit old. And for my part, I’m counting the quickening pace, the collapsing time between where we are now and what is to come.In three years, he will be a teenager. In five years, he will begin to drive. In eight years, he will graduate. He could move out. He could start college. He could get drafted. He could marry. None of this math makes sense to my head or my heart. This little boy, who still crawls into bed to cuddle, who plays Mario obsessively, who is diving headfirst into Hogwarts and the magical world of Harry Potter, who is working hard at swimming lessons, who lives for recess, who is earning ranks in Cub Scouts, who easily outmaneuvers me in chess, who promises me his love more than anyone’s (except God, he reminds) and who hugs generously… this is who he is. And I can’t imagine him any other way.All parents both wonder and worry what the future will hold for their child. There is some anxiety in all of us as we do the best we can to prepare our children for life: teaching them the values of honesty, courage, empathy, engagement, and kindness. Showing them resilience and persistence, living a shared faith as a foundation, and offering a lens to see the world through justice and right relation is our great challenge.As daunting as those parenting goals are, my husband and I try to do all of this to the best of our ability, and still wonder what the world will have in store. We all fear what obstacles, challenges, and hurts are waiting ahead as our children grow.Knowing my son is biracial and will identify as Black only exacerbates all these wonderings, anxieties and fears. Racial injustice is still a great problem in the world we live in. Black people experience daily harm in a way that I simply don’t as a white woman. What is cute and sweet now in my son’s little boy body will soon be perceived as scary and threatening to others as he grows bigger in his Black teenaged and adult body. This will be true as he interacts with neighbors, teachers, police officers, and merchants. Heaven protect him if he wears a hoodie while munching Skittles in the wrong neighborhood. He will be othered, and he will be feared, mistrusted, and stereotyped. It makes me incredibly sad.And worried. The very act of him learning to drive a car could become dangerous and deadly (more so than maneuvering a vehicle already is) as he will be targeted, profiled, pulled over, and harassed in ways that I am not. He will need to learn to interact with our law enforcement officers in a way that is different than I do as a white woman. “The Talk” that Black families give to their children as they get their license will be our reality someday. And it shouldn’t be.So how do I celebrate his life now, knowing all that the future could hold, all that could be, all that I fear?Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote prophetically, beautifully, and truthfully while sitting in a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama in August of 1963:“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.”1 With great gratitude in my heart for this American hero and an indescribable love etched in my heart for my son, who stands on the shoulders of King and so many others who have come before him, I celebrate his 10th birthday. I’ll intentionally make space to stay in the present. I won’t get ahead of myself. I’ll stay here, in the Minecraft and Mario world we live in, heading off to drama lab and chess club, Scouts, swimming, and faith formation. I’ll read aloud with him every night from Lemony Snicket and Narnia and Harry Potter, telling him every day how much I love him. And I’ll ask Flo, his guardian angel, to bless and protect him, and keep him close to Christ each time we part and each night before he falls asleep. Happy Birthday, my son.Endnote:1. Letter from Birmingham Jail by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
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