Here's to Peanut #1

Have I ever told you about my son, the eldest hostile? (He's eldest by one minute, a mere 60 seconds, but let me assure you that I now believe wholeheartedly - now that I'm a mom - in birth order, and he is the epitome of 'the oldest.') Mr. Responsible. Mr. I-Follow-the-Rules. And-so-must-you. Mr. It's All Black and White. Mr. Justice-Must-be-swift-and-I-will-administer-it-myself-if-no-parent-is-watching. My son.

He's a helper. A pleaser. A lover, not a fighter.

He is a thinker. A creator. A builder.

And that boy has a personal connection with Jesus. Not a superficial, repeat-after-me prayer. Not an "I follow Jesus because my parents do" follower. A sincerely motivated intelligent communicator with the divine maker. My son.

How do I know?

Because when he was 4 years-old, a soccer buddy fell on the field. My son ran onto the field and prayed over his friend.

How do I know?

Because one year for Lent, I gave up my coffee drinks and my favorite restaurant. As I silently committed to go the next day and break my Lenten promise and buy my coffee at my favorite restaurant because I am just that weak, my son began to pray outloud that God would give me the strength to keep my promises.

How do I know?

Because today as I struggled with a conflict, my son entered our house singing, "Let's be peacemakers" to the tune of London Bridge is Falling Down.

I call that cool.

I call that Divine.

I call him God's Boy. My Son.

~The Roost'er

Added: Oh, and because I just figured out how to do this (without The Family's Computer Genius), Here's to Moms (but first pause the playlist at the top...)