First Born Son

I wasn't too far past my twentieth birthday when my first son was born. He was loved way ahead of time and very wanted. But that year on December 15 when the doctor said he wanted to induce the next day, reality slapped me in the face and I exclaimed in fear, "I'm not mature enough to be a mother!" But my boy and and I survived together without too many mishaps. I often refer to his childhood as "when we were growing up." A child will do that to you. Make you grow up whether you think you are ready or not. Now he is more than 2/3 my age!
A couple of years ago I saw him in a different light, as a man I respected. Our family has Christmas Eve tradition. After opening family gifts, the youngest reader reads the Christmas story from Luke in a large old Bible. On that night, there were no children. We were a small group of adults, but Trip was the youngest among us and volunteered to follow tradition and read to us the story of the Mary, the swaddled babe, Bethlehem, the angels, the star, and the shepherds. How many years had it been since he had the honor! It was one of life's tender moments. http://tripsblogonstuff.blogspot.com/ This is his blogsite. He is passing along wisdom, too.