One of the younger sisters in my church congregation just had a baby
boy recently. I saw him for the first time yesterday morning and I
spent a few minutes in the hallway in between our meetings talking to
her and admiring this newest wee one, come down from our Heavenly
Father. His fingers so tiny and delicate . . . that beautiful little
face, so perfect . . . so sweet. It reminded me of when my own boys
were babies, and my girls too. It was so long ago, and yet . . . it
seemed like just yesterday that I was holding them in just the same way
and they, too . . . were fresh from our Heavenly Father's presence.
My grandson Luke will be turning 10 tomorrow. Its hard to believe. It seems just yesterday he arrived on earth. He is my
oldest son's youngest son . . . and this is for him.
Somewhere between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood,
we discover a delightful little creature which is called a boy. These
creatures come in all different sizes, weights and colours, but all come
with the same goal in life which is to enjoy every second of every
minute of every hour of every day and to protest loudly when that day
comes to an end and the last minute is finished and the adult male in
the house packs em off to bed at night.
You can find boys everywhere; on top of, beneath, inside of, climbing
on, swinging from, running around or jumping to! Mothers love and
adore them, little girls hate the bones off them, older brothers and
sisters tolerate them, adults ignore them, teenage girls adulate them . .
. and Heaven protects them.
A boy is truth with a dirty face, knowledge with bubblegum in his hair .
. . and the hope of our future with a frog in his pocket. When you
are busy and wanting peace and quiet . . . a boy is an inconsiderate,
bothersome, intruding cacophony of noise. When you want him to impress,
his brain turns to mush, or else he becomes a sadistic, savage, jungle
creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.
A boy is a mixture of many things. He has all of the appetite of a
horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a small atomic
bomb and all of the curiosity of a cat. In him is the imagination of
Paul Bunyan, the lungs of an absolutist, all the daring of a great
adventurer, the enthusiasm of a fire cracker . . . as well as all of the
shyness of a trembling violet. When he makes something . . . and he
often does . . . he appears to have five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice cream and candy, knives and saws, Christmas, Comic Books,
Dinosaurs, Video games, daring adventures, mud, his friends, the woods,
water, horses and dogs, trains and fire engines, Saturday mornings and
his Dad. He's not into school of any kind, company, girls, getting his
hair cut, washing behind his ears, wearing a tie, washing his hands,
overcoats, adults, or bed time. He's the first to rise in the morning
and late for supper, but nobody can attack a meal with the appetite of a
behemoth like a boy can. Nobody else can get the pleasure out of
trees, forts, dogs and breezes like a boy can.
They are magicians which can cram more into one pocket than is humanly
possible . . . two rusty knives, two half eaten apples, three feet of
string, a variety of rubber bands, an empty Bull Durham sack, a couple
of hard candies, a couple of quarters, nickles and dimes, a treasure
map, a packet of bubblegum, a secret decoder ring, a sling shot, a dead
frog and a big chunk of something completely unknown and undefinable.
Boys are wonderful beings. You can lock him out of your kitchen, or
workshop . . . but you can never lock him out of your heart. You can
keep him out of the study, but you can never keep him out of your
mind. He's your captor, your jailor, your boss and master . . . .
freckle faced, pint sized . . . a cat chasing bundle of noise, but at
the end of the day when you are tucking him in bed with only the tatters
of the day that was and your hopes and dreams . . . he can mend them
like new, with three little words. I love you. And as those wiry
little arms wrap themselves around your neck to say goodnight, you
realize that life is good . . . amazingly, wonderfully and beautifully
good.
Ho Ho Hoppy Birthday Luke!
(A private Joke)
This was adapted into my own words from a piece by Alan
Beck. All of the photos this morning are of my grandson Luke. Happy
Birthday Luke! Grammy loves you.
A thought to carry with you . . .
° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*"Going to church on Sunday
does not make you a Christian
any more than sleeping in a garage
overnight turns you into a car."~unknown •。★★ 。* 。
Nothing new in the kitchen today but thought I would share this recipe with you for Steakhouse Steak & Chips. Served with a lush chimichurri sauce, this makes for a beautiful meal.
Have a wonderful Wednesday. I need to work really heard today as I have to finish 3 recipes for the new site I am working for between today and Friday! There is no rest for the wicked! Don't forget!
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And I do too!
