Sad.

My firstborn turned three years old today. He spent most of the day with his father in another state, but that didn't stop me from celebrating my sweet boy's special day when he arrived home this evening. My mother, sister, brother, and soon-to-be brother-in-law joined us for an evening of gifts and cake. We laughed, loved, ate, laughed, played, and laughed some more. We took hundreds of pictures, we sang "Happy Birthday," we set up his new toys, we watched him blow out his candles, we loved on him and hugged on him and made him feel special.

We had a great time.

But now that everyone has gone home, and now that the mess has been cleaned up and my babies are asleep, I'm sad. Not because he's another year older, not because I miss his baby days, not even because he's growing up entirely too fast...

Simply because it's not supposed to be this way.

On this day, the anniversary of his birth, it feels as if I should be sitting close to his father on the sofa, reminiscing about that fateful day. We should be sharing his birth story, re-living those months of anticipation and the unbelievably sweet payoff of pregnancy, laughing at all the ways he's everything we absolutely expected while at the same time nothing at all like we thought. We should be celebrating our son. Together.

There should be someone here with me, someone to talk to, to laugh with, about all the little silly things he said and did tonight. Someone with whom to share the love I feel for him, someone with whom I could crawl into bed and collapse from exhaustion, all the while knowing that my smile isn't the only one in the room. Someone to help wash the dishes, someone willing to sit at the kitchen table and finish a piece of cake with me, someone to simply share the evening, the memories, a conversation. Someone to say to me, "Did you see his face when he opened our gift?" Someone I could tell, "I'm so proud of him for being polite tonight."

I want to share him and the joy he brings into my life with somebody.

I miss parenting with a partner. This "single" stuff is hard.

And sad.

And birthdays aren't the only thing that make me feel this way.

Which is why I am so, so thankful I serve a God who "makes me lie down in green pastures; leads me beside still waters; and restores my soul."

I need some soul restoration every now and then, and I need the kind that doesn't--that can't--come from a husband or boyfriend or even a close friend or family member. I need the kind of restoration that comes only from God, the kind of restoration given by the One who knows me, who loves me, and who delights in me, and my children, as His creation. And while the desire to be held in the arms of an earthly man is strong within my heart, it pales in comparison to my need to be held by my heavenly Father.

And, ultimately, I am well aware of the fact that not only did He see my sweet boy's face upon opening his gift from me, but God also heard the thoughts running through that three-year-old's mind and felt the excitement of his reaction. And, knowing God, He's been waiting to share this moment with me for a long, long time.

He's been waiting for me to put the kids to bed so that He could talk with me, so that He could share with me, so that He could love on me, so that He could restore my soul.