This morning, I made breakfast for the sun. It wasn’t much, just a few birthday biscuits because we were out of milk for cereal and no one should have to greet their sixteenth year with an empty stomach. And so I woke up early and rolled out my great-grandmother’s biscuits.
I heard his leaden footsteps before I saw him. He pulled up a chair to the edge of the kitchen and sat down like he does when he’s eager to connect. I asked him about his boy-self: How did his boy-self imagine his nearly man-self to be?
I thought I’d be driving.
I thought I’d have a job.
I thought I’d have a car.
But I look about the way I thought I would.
And I’m proud of my decisions so far…
As I cut out each biscuit and put them on the pan, I told him the story of his first day in the world. How I looked over and saw him for the first time and cried because light had been born into my darkness. His birth was a tangible sign that I was still loved—a living road map that eventually led me to find the Source of that love.
And I celebrated how far we’ve come in sixteen years. I celebrated that I have a boy-man who pull chairs up to the edge of kitchens to talk with his mama.
And I prayed for all those teen moms, living in darkness with just enough light to see the positive sign on that test. I prayed they would say yes…So that in sixteen years they, too, can make breakfast for the sun.
That God could form something so beautiful within me during a time when my life was so void of Him shows there isn’t a place in all creation He cannot enter and glorify.