Boy. These three letters bring my to my knees each night. I thank God for my son, my heart, my teacher. His long skinny legs, his ginormous smile and his pitter pat laugh are the outside packaging for his ever growing heart. He loves. He touches people-his heart straight to theirs. He deeply cares for every living thing-especially his sisters. His love for them is fierce and protecting. It shocks me when he loves them during times when I find it near impossible. His eyes-pools of chocolate syrup-search out pain, indifference, the unjust, the hurting. My picture of his future includes his loving arms wrapped around a sick child in a far off place. He loves. And I can't help but love him in return.
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