Brother Coming Home

Zay and I are on the porch swing, coats zipped up against the autumn cool.

“Three days,” he says. “Three days until Logan comes home.”  He holds his little hand in the air, pinky finger trapped tight by thumb.

“Five days, Isaiah,” I say I unfolding his cool, red hand. “All five fingers. But that’s not too long. Your brother will be home soon.”

“Awww,” Zay says.  He scrunches his face to a tiny twist. Then slowly, steadily,  a smile spreads warm and bright.

“Then Logan be home. He’ll be with our family.”

The launching of a child has run deep, ripples stretching into the sweet soul of even our youngest boy. But God has been gracious and good. There has been growth, and strength, satisfaction and joy in growing a son to a man. But the anticipation of time together, when the fabric of family is complete and whole?

Those are the best of times.

Isaiah and I sit for awhile, on the swing. We watch the sun wash through the trees that are now almost bare.

It is good. Very, very good.

Children are a blessing, that’s the Lord’s truth. There’s a plan and a purpose beyond the treasure that is a parents’ blessing to hold.

I’m breathless to see what the Lord will do with my sons.

But there is sweetness, joy, in coming together. There is gratitude, thanksgiving, in a brother coming home.