Today, my "baby" boy turned 42. That's so hard for me to believe. We had everyone over to the house for dinner to celebrate. Yummy (totally unhealthy) meal of roast, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, green beans, yeast rolls and yum yum for dessert - cherry or chocolate, your choice.
I can't keep my mind from wandering back 42 years ago, when that precious baby boy was born. I was 19 and totally excited to be a new mom. He was such a perfect first baby. Easy-going, good eater, not demanding or given to fits of temper. He was sleeping 12 hours a night when he was two weeks old - unheard of nowadays. A good "starter" child for a young woman who thinks she has it all together (but, in reality, has so much to learn). I loved being a mom. We were very strapped financially, but I tried to make good times for us anyway. Hubby worked straight afternoons, so it was Jeff and I together for long hours most days. We sang. I read stories to him. I got in the floor and played with him. I taught him, and he was so eager to learn - EVERYTHING!
The teen years brought some heartache and indecision on our part. We weren't certain how to handle him all the time, and I think he knew that. But we all survived.
Forty-two years have passed. He's grown into a wonderful man, and his life encompasses so much - loving husband, caring father, successful businessman, Godly example to his family. A man of integrity. Who could ask for more?
I reflect, and I thank God. We haven't always done things right, but we've always had hearts after God. Seeing who and what our son has become makes me proud. Life has been good - to us and to him.
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