It's sometimes hard to believe that fourteen years ago today, I had my own personal labor day and gave birth to the most perfect six pound, six ounce little man. From the minute I held him, I was in love and he has never ceased to be the best thing that ever happened to me when I was the ripe old age of 21 years and 344 days.
(two days old- just sprung from St Vincent Hospital)
I've enjoyed watching him grow. I loved watching 'Pooh's Grand Adventure- the search for Christopher Robin' again and again. And again.
(nearly three, with his favorite blanket)
I cried when I left him on his first day of Kindergarten. I was the only one. He'd been home with me almost every minute since that warm September Sunday when we sprung him from the hospital and I wasn't ready for his independence. But he was and his teacher loved him.
(how is he ready for school already?...two days short of six years old)
He's a great big brother who lives life with an interesting mix of protecting Caleb and teaching him all he needs to know and wishing that Caleb would just go away.
Aren't all sibling relationships like that?
I'm proud that he's our son. I'm pleased at the smart, responsible, caring young man he's become. I'm more than thrilled that he loves Jesus with his whole heart, soul, mind and strength.