Three times I was asked (in a span of a half hour) if all the children with me were mine.
Yes.
Yes, they are mine. I remember well their births. They. Are. Mine.
The one jumping like a frog in the middle of Trader Joes – he’s mine. That one who hit you with my rather large collapsible cooler . . . he’s mine. The short one with all the curls who keeps repeating to you that he is three . . . mine too.
And this little one (who is in pink) that you thought was a boy . . . she also is mine.
Typically, the comments don’t stop with, “Are these all yours?” Nope, people just keep digging their holes. “Well, you never know. Boy, you must sure be busy. Glad you finally got your girl.”
STOP!
Don’t get me wrong, I am OVER. THE. TOP. EXCITED. ABOUT. HAVING. A. GIRL!!!!
BUT . . . those three little boys are no less important. And I cringe every time someone says to me, “You finally got your girl. Poor thing . . . to have all those brothers.”
Ezra is folding Naomi’s diapers.
To which I reply, “Oh quite the contrary, she is blessed. Naomi has three boys who protect and defend her. She is well loved and made to feel special.”
Why do little boys get the bad wrap all the time? Kind of a rhetorical question. I know why. I have three boys.
I thought that perhaps they were abnormal. Super energetic. Maybe even drugged up on honey?
No. They are boys. Boys are active. They jump. They dare you to challenge their strength. They gravitate towards danger and chivalry. They are warriors in training . . . searching for someone to rescue.
So . . . in short . . . as we enter our second week of praying for our boys, I’m finding that I feel blessed. Instead of just saying that I am busy blessed, I truly am feeling blessed to have three sons (and one daughter).
They challenge me. But they teach me.
Wanna share how you have been praying for your sons? See this original post if you have no clue what I am talking about!
Otherwise, leave a comment with or without a link to your blog post (I was having difficulty getting the link to work).
