I don't know what to say about Lincoln turning 18. It's true what everyone told me when he was a baby -- "Enjoy him. They grow up so fast."
I remember so clearly the day he was born, and now he's 18. I remember bringing him home hours after he was born, planting his little tree, gazing at his "perfectness." I remember long lazy walks on the gravel roads at the ranch and cuddling and rocking him at night. I remember him toddling around in his blue thermal jammies, his diapers crinkling as he walked. There are 18 years of memories -- sitting on the couch teaching him to read, days at the park and the zoo, birthdays and Christmases, spending time with grandparents and cousins, baseball games, and vacations. Memories that I sometimes take for granted and then I sit here in the quiet, remembering, and I am so, so grateful. Grateful for my 18-year-old son.
Happy Birthday, Lincoln. Your dad and I are proud of the man God has made you to be, and so thankful.