Today my oldest nephew turned 12. He turned 12 and I didn't get to see his face or hear his voice or give him a proper present or anything to let him know how much I love him on his 12th birthday. I'm here and he's there, and the distance between here and there is often a burden I struggle to bear.
His name is Kellan. He's my oldest nephew. I was only 13 when he was born. When he was 6 weeks old he did a massive poo all over me. So I'm kind of attached to this kid.
It hit me especially today how much I hated to miss out on his birthday because I can remember so clearly turning 12 myself. I turned 12 the summer my parents spent in New York, doing their mission orientation for Africa Inland Mission before we went to Kenya the first time. Jeff, my oldest brother (and Kellan's father), took me to Chuck E. Cheese for my birhtday. Technically I was way too old to go to Chuck E. Cheese for a grown-up almost teenager, but I didn't care. I remember loving every minute. I can so picture sitting in the front seat of the car, going to Chuck E. Cheese with Jeff driving, Jonelle and Jonathan sitting in the back, and we were listening to music I had chosen--Oldies. (I went through a stage). They had to have loved me a lot.
I don't like missing out on my nephews' birthdays. In fact, I hate it. So, Kellan, if you read this, I'm sorry I am not there to watch you turn 12. It for sure does not mean I love you any less.
It's just the hardest part.
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