He's 17.

This guy turned 17 years old yesterday. He isn't a fan of a lot of attention and so I try to respect that and refrain from writing sappy, gushy birthday posts on my blog about him. They just make him sigh and think, "Chill, Mom." which is his favorite thing to say to me.

When he was born and wrapped up and placed in my arms he looked up at me with a frown and furrowed brow as if to say, "Settle down, Lady. Enough with the cooing. What's the big deal anyway?" Still, despite the fact that many days we both cannot even with each other for one more second, I have no choice. I love him so much it's stupid and unreasonable. It's just my job.

Last week, I saw the movie, Wonder, based on a book that I read out loud to all three of my boys. I looked up the definition of the word recently and found that Merriam-Webster defines "wonder" as "a feeling of surprise mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar and inexplicable."

Kyle is, as most of your teens are I imagine, perfectly described by all of those words. He is always beautiful to me and can surprise me with things I never expected, both frustrating things that annoy the fire out of me and amazingly, sweet things that take my breath away. He can be unfamiliar and inexplicable which is normal for teenagers and maddening for mamas of teenagers. And despite how difficult I find this job of raising boys into men and how often I have to call on the Lord to remind me that He is ultimately the one who will order this boy's steps, who will be the fuel behind his every success and will be the place he will land after ever fall, I am humbled and filled with gratitude at the favor He showed in gifting me this wonder of a boy.

Happy Birthday, Kyle. You are, indeed, a wonder. And I will love you a ridiculously annoying amount forever and ever.