Blue Eyes

I call him my "Blue Eyes", all nine years of him. Curled in my lap this birthday morning, his legs so far past where they were this same morning, nine years ago. His cheeks, not quite as soft, but still so kissable. I press my face into his, breathing in the scent of his hair, and remember...

I remember the birth, frightening as it was. The awakening to God's gift of life, and the call to live it fully. Not only the gift of my Blue Eyes, but also a spiritual journey, brought to rest at the throne of my Saviour.

My Blue Eyes... he teaches me daily. How to appreciate the small, possibly unnoticed by most... those are his specialty. How to make music speak and words sing... mostly, by just listening...

Nine years have passed, and he's a wonderful boy. Ask him what he wants special for his birthday, and his enthusiastic response is "french toast".

So, french toast for breakfast it was, with a side of serenade and birthday hugs from brothers.