This week has started off as a week full of emotions, and I don’t think it’s going to stop. Thursday is a day I never envisioned coming 18 years ago when my oldest son was born. Yes, he will be 18 on Thursday. 18 years old. You don’t think of what a short time that is when they’re born. You just think of everything that’s involved with having an infant, and you think of how much time you’ll have. In the grand scheme of things though, 18 years is not a long time. And, according to our society, 18 years of age, for the most part, is when people are considered to be adults. We are doing things this year in preparation for the leap to adulthood. Things such as deciding on a college and registering for the Selective Service.

But, my mind churns with memories of how much my son has blessed my life. From running out to greet his father when he came home from work, to working hard on his schooling, to sitting on my lap and learning about the computer, to playing baseball, to reading Jotham’s Journey during Advent, to asking the most important question he asked over two years ago, my son has blessed my life. You might ask what that most important question was. It was the question, “Mom, can we find a church to go to? I want to find a church.” (We had moved to a new town.) And in the 2 1/2 years since that question was asked, we have found a church home and a new family and my faith has been restored. My son has gone through his high school years in this church and helps to lead worship now on Wednesday nights as well as being an active member of the youth group. He has also continued to play baseball and do well in school. I am so proud of the young man he has become, and I am especially proud that he is a young man of faith. Thank you, God, for blessing me with the privilege of being my son’s mother!

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