My firstborn son turned 40 today! It is still sinking in. My son is...golly! Getting old-er! Ha!
The blond-haired, blue-eyed, raspy-voiced little boy long ago magically turned into a man. The bright blond hair has darkened now; the raspy voice of a little boy now is a commanding voice (also a great tenor voice); the blue eyes still blue.
The little boy I raised had such a great imagination. He played in rocket ships, space ships, prisons, dungeons and castles--although an adult's eyes saw only an old cardboard box. He swam in the ocean with whales and sharks and ran with dinosaurs--all from the comfort of his bedroom floor.
I loved reading books with him. Frog and Toad, Ferdinand, Ping, Peter Rabbit and the Sesame Street gang (along with a whole host of library book characters) were regular invitees to our daily read-a-book-before-nap time.
The true magic of this son is that he made me a mother. So today brings a flood of good memories of a little boy, full of possibilities and promise. I must confess, on rare occasions I have wondered if I could have done more--and better--mothering with him. I guess that is a curse of parenthood. The blessing is that I gave him regularly up--in my heart and in prayer--to God, who is all-wise, all-knowing and much better at parenting. He is the creator-parent, after all.
My adventurous son, that loved playing 'Navy Seal', as he called it, scaling walls and roofs and 'parachuting' into yards has become an adventurous man that, well...he scales walls and roofs and runs like the wind after lawbreakers. (I am smiling as I type this)
My generous-hearted son has two daughters and a young son. He and his wife are enjoying the fruits (through the labor) of parenthood. I know he wants to do the best he can for them. Even for the little blond-haired, blue-eyed, raspy-voiced boy that is HIS son. (I am smiling broadly as I type this)