This morning, my heart is heavy. My oldest is leaving to go to camp, and I’m just not ready for my baby boy to be this old. I’m not ready to have him not be able to sit in my lap and have me rock him to sleep. I’m not ready for him to lose that baby giggle when I stub my toe or trip while walking across the room. I’m not ready for him to be this tall, this smart, this vocal, or this capable.
I want my little baby boy back.
I am glad, though, that he is this tall, this smart, this vocal, and this capable. I’m glad that he’s independent to a point, and I’m glad that he still knows that his daddy would fight the biggest and baddest for as long as it takes to keep him safe.
I’m glad that he’s mine.
This morning, I prayed while he slept. I prayed that God would show more of Himself to my little boy. I prayed that God would make this camp experience one that would be looked back upon as a forming time later on down the road. I prayed that my little boy’s relationship would be made more real with God, and that he would listen for God’s voice before he asks God to do what is needed in his life. I kept it short, because I didn’t want to lose it and cover him in tears while he slept. I kissed him on his cheek and whispered my hopes that he would have a good time as I stood to leave.
In the truck, I shed my tears. I prayed diligently for him and the time that he is going to have. I prayed hard over my son, and I had a revelation while doing so. It was a confirmation in my life that God gave me, an image of things that had been done for me before my relationship with God became personal.
My dad prayed this same prayer.
I had a mental image of my dad holding the steering wheel of his busted old blue Ford, praying that his son would someday do mighty things for God’s kingdom. He prayed that I would go places and see things that would prove time and time again that God was real. He prayed these same prayers often, while in the altars at the church. He brought the names of my sister and I to God’s feet weekly, praying that we would be satisfied with what God had to offer. He prayed that we would be content with what God wanted to do with us.
He prays the same prayers over my kids now.
I’ve been to some intense places and seen God’s hand at work in big time ways. My biggest trip thus far has been Africa. It’s mind-blowing to know that my dad prayed for my experience there years before he knew where it would be. I’m going to Haiti in a few weeks, and it will no doubt be powerful also. I’m sure that He’s praying for that too.
I love this legacy that God has crafted for my life. My dad would be the first to admit that he’s not perfect. He’s made mistakes, and he has no doubt been tested. He has entrusted his heart to God, and he dedicated mine to God as well. He did that because he knows that God is perfect, and He is the one that helps us through our tests. My dad knew that God could fill in the spaces in my life that he couldn’t.
I’m becoming more like my dad every day, and that makes me very happy.
After all, he’s my hero.
Soul Sounds 