Different Drummer

This is my husband's son. Well, okay he's mine too. He's supposed to wait until he eats his lunch before he drinks [esp. when it's chocolate milk, otherwise he'll just get filled up and ... well, you know] So I kept telling him that he wouldn't get any of his chocolate milk if he didn't finish [my back was to him] - I turned around and started to reprimand him - when all I could do instead was laugh! So, I asked him [all the while smiling}, "Joseph, did you drink some of your milk?" Then he stuck his one finger up and said, "Only one, Mommy. Only one." I mean this is classic. He thought he was being sneaky - little did he know! LOL - I'm still laughing! [you'll notice the sandwich in his hand!]Which leads me to this.....

I received the following beautiful words in an email from a friend in our group. These words just really spoke to me. Really touched me.

I peek in at him late at night lying in bed, fast asleep, my no-longer-little guy sprawled out across his bed, long unruly mess of hair covering his face. . .and I smile. I smile because he is full of personality. He is so different than me in many ways, different than my expectations, different than the little boy I had always imagined. And for that I am grateful.

He's his own person, knows what he likes and doesn't like. I look in at him, peaceful and innocent while he sleeps. The fight is gone and his little mind is resting. He's gone full force for the last sixteen hours, he needs a break.

I like it that he pushes the limits, like it that he questions everything, because one day he's going to do something spectacular. Along the way, he's going to make some big mistakes, but he's going to live large and dream large. Underneath the spunk and mouth is a heart not only lined with gold, but filled with it. It is large and feeling, and it wants to do good even when his impulses lead him astray at times. I think God must look down and confuse him with a little tornado. But I also think God looks down and likes what he has created, likes the little tornado who is growing into a man.

I think He sees Himself in my little boy, funny as that sounds. The part of God who is the Creator, who by the sheer force of His energy and being created life and all that is in the world. The part of God who was willing to step into humanity and persevere on a rugged cross because it would help people. The part of God who walked among men, largely misunderstood, often reviled because He was different and didn't do things the way the rulers of His era thought they should be done.

But He kept going. Because He, too, had a mission. He didn't care what others thought. His vision was larger than a mere thirty-three years on earth.

I think God must see Himself in the part that sometimes misses out on earthly things because he's in tune with something deep inside another person. The part who remains an idealist even when the world around him is less than ideal. The part that isn't afraid to look into eternity and see better things in all of us.

That is my son sleeping there. We fought each other until we couldn't fight anymore. Until I realized that I was the one who needed to change, because I wasn't going to change his nature. Perhaps he has been given to me so that I would change.

That is my son. Sometimes he inspires anger, sometimes frustration. Then he makes me laugh, even smile in resignation. And as I look at him, he makes me cry. He is a wonderful creation. Through all the struggles, I can see the imprints of the Creator.

He is my son. He marches to the beat of a different drummer. Thank God.