Oh, Caleb! Today you are five years old. This is a momentous day for me because, hopefully, it is the last day I will hear you asking for an astronaut birthday. Ever since you were four years and one day old, thoughts of an UP Pixar-themed birthday party were ancient history and replaced with the insatiable urge to dress in a spacesuit before you explored the age of five.
Mom and I stayed up late to prepare your present: a space-themed bedroom. Your excitement impressed upon my memory in an unforgettable way.
Yep. Space theme. We nailed it.
Astronaut Caleb. You have prefaced your name with “Astronaut” for a year now. No different than me being addressed as Mr., or your teachers as Miss. Except you composed a song for your name and you sing that song, and it’s lyrics are simply, “Ahnut Caleb, Ahnut Caleb!” Refrain. Refrain. Refrain.
We hope, Caleb, that your room is a reminder of the deliberate and well designing ways of God. That God made for you a magnificent Earth, an astonishing solar system, and an incomprehensible universe to wonder at. “God’s ‘mazing!” you always tell us when we teach you about the cosmos. Caleb, that excitement and awe you feel when considering the stars, that’s the same way mom and I feel when we wonder at you. Caleb, you are God’s brilliant, intentional creation.
Fly away, buddy. Find your place among the stars. But not too soon. There are a couple things I need to teach you about first. Like how to wink at girls. And how to fake being a baritone in choir class until you hit puberty. Perhaps I’ll save these insights until you are six.