The Child Who Has Taught Me All About Timing, Is 15 Today

I wake with a start. 

The pressure strange. 

I struggle to my feet. 

The waters of life stir. 

It's time. 

I call the hospital. 

I call my mother in law. 

My farmer wakes as the alarm rings. 

His normal waking hour. 

I let him know it's time. 

This child already in tune with the milking schedule.

With 3 sleeping children in the house, we head toward life. 

It is quick. 

We barely make it to the hospital before the final pushes. 

Fast and furious. 

He arrives. 

A surprise.

We always wait. 

Cedric Trevor Davis.

Named for the Grandfather taken too soon; who worked and toiled the land.

Our precious son.

We are blessed.

The recovery easy.

Life continues.

Marches on.

Year after year. 

He is 15 today.

He will take his permit test tomorrow. 

It's time. 

He has grown 4 inches since we buried his brother. 

He stands head and shoulders above me.

He wrestles with all that life has thrown him. 

Part wreckless, part staunch responsibility. 

This boy who arrived so quickly and hasn't stopped since, is my joy.
He who does all, in his own timing.

There is something about mama's and their boys. 

One for me is no more. I hold onto this one.

I pray I don't hold too tight. 

I pray that God will spare him and his siblings. 

I plead for more time. 

I beg Him to allow the angel of death to never pass this way too early again. 

But was it too early?

All is in the palm of God's hand. 

All in it's time. 

I will spend a life time in knots if I hang on the edge.
Waiting on His timing takes all.

Reaching again for grace, I hold on to the now. 
Resting in the plan by One wiser than I. 
Knowing that all is in it's time.

The birth. 

The joy. The glory.
The memories. 

We celebrate. 

We rejoice.

Happy 15th Birthday Cedric.

Ecclesiastes 3:1
There is a time for everything, 
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

The Farm Boy Left Behind

He loves to be out doors. 

Always has. 

He'd cry when the farmer was heading out. 

We'd strategize how long he could stay outside. 

When his nap should be.

Often it was taken with a  grease rag  pillow; somewhere in the tractor. 

 Wanting to be with his father. 

Longing to be close to the earth. 

Now he races tracks on this land. 

He tills and toils and lifts and creates, 

Jumps and turns. 

It exhausts him. 

He pushes his muscles and expends the relentless energy. 

So committed. 

Yet, still so young. 

A child some days.

Full grown man others. 

The death of his brother leaving him the oldest brother. 

A confusing place.

Roles changed. 

Piercing pain, yet pulled to lead. 

The 4 walls of a classroom claustrophobic. 

Knowledge flowing easily when the hands seek the learning. 

Struggles. 

Tension.

Wrestling with, who am I?

This man boy. 

So different from his brother. 

Yet so a like. 

Searching for truth. 

No hypocrisy. 

Closing in on a year. 

The last picture taken together. 

The last time they saw one another. 

The next the sweet reunion, in Glory. 

I pray for this man-boy.
My only son.
I watch him.
Longing for him to have joy.
My prayer is not for my child to be happy.
Nor is it for him to be successful.
I long for my boy to make choices that will make a difference in this world.
To not be a taker.
To take the gifts he has and use them for God's glory. . .not his own.
We're headed off the two of us to the races.

Praying for sweet time together.

Colossians 3:17
And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, 
do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus,
 giving thanks to God the Father through him.