The floorboards creaked. I opened my eyes. Light from the hall spilled into our room, and I saw Isaiah pad across the bedroom in footie pajamas. The green digitals of the alarm clock displayed the time. 4:05.
“I’m scared, Mama,” Zay said. He traveled to my side of the bed and raised his arms. Mine-O-Mine, his well-loved blanket, draped his shoulder.
I pushed the covers back to welcome Isaiah. Then I hoisted him up. “It’s okay, Zay,” I said. “Let’s snuggle.” I rearranged the covers and curved around my tiny, fleece-clad boy. He settled in, and Lonny curled around both of us. Then I closed my eyes against the light.
“I am my daddy’s son.”
Lord, thank you for letting me raise these boys. And thank you for their daddy. I ask that all five boys would find their identity in You, that one day they’ll stand as men and with this same peace, pride, comfort and joy. Let them confess with their mouths and their lives - I AM MY FATHER’S SON.