I Miss My Sons

I miss my sons. I miss their laughs. I miss their smiles. I miss our quiet talks and our lively debates. I miss getting to watch football with them. I miss their wives, too. I miss seeing their interactions with my sons. I miss getting the opportunity to see how they have grown alongside their wives. I miss playing games with them, telling them jokes, and playing tricks on them. I miss going camping with them, and to choir concerts, and to singing competitions. I miss getting to worship God with them. I miss getting to put my arms around them. And, I miss getting the opportunity to tell them everyday that I love them. I miss my sons.

Slow, Easy Changes

Teaching your sons to drive a car is often a very scary endeavor. I taught both my sons to drive. We would get in the car and drive down a country road very slowly. The boys face’s crinkled with concern. I tried to act more confidently than I actually was. In a veiled attempt to calm my own nerves, I repeated softly to them over and over, “Slow, easy changes. Slow, easy changes.”

I think the same advice I gave them so many years ago is good advice still. The Road of Life requires “slow, easy changes.” Like getting behind the wheel of a car, we become more confident the more we do it. The more confident we become, the faster we go. The faster we go, the less of life we will be able to notice. And, if we get going too fast, we may end up in a ditch...stuck.

I remember the stories. There is the I-wasn’t-going-very-fast-but-I-slid-25-feet-across-the-grass-and-into-a-ditch story. Then, there is the spider-got-on-my-chest-and-I-drove-into-the-ditch-trying-to-get-rid-of-the-spider story. By the way, that last story about the spider ended with my son trying to give the investigating Police officer Twinkies from his now popped open trunk.

The fact is I would not trade anything for my experience teaching my sons to drive, not one bruise to my head from being thrown into the passenger window because we were going around a curve to fast and my son slammed on the brakes, nor one whip-lash from teaching them to drive a stick shift.

My sons are good drivers now. I just hope they will always remember that whether driving or living “slow, easy changes” are most often the best course of action. With that in mind, let’s get on the road.

My Sons

I've lived on this earth now for 50 years, 31 of those years married to the most beautiful woman on earth. Before marriage we discussed children, you know stuff like how many children we want to have and when to have them. Although I can't remember how many we said we would have, I do remember saying we wanted to wait 3 to 5 years before becoming parents. Six months into our marriage, I was ready to have kids. So we did. Over the next three years my beautiful wife gave me two sons.

As time flew past us, our little boys grew into good men...great men! I always told them "You are more son than any man has a right to have." And, they are. I admit it freely. My sons didn't grow up like me, they became better than me...better than I could have ever imagined. My oldest son is married and lives in Tennessee. My youngest son is also married and lives in South Carolina. While I don't get to see either one of them as much as I would like, I know our love for one another runs deep.

So in this post, I want to thank them and praise them for all they have been, are, and will become.

I give them praise and thank them for many reasons. They love the Lord and serve him faithfully. They love their wives and are true to their vows. They love their parents and give us great respect. All of their lives they have been a blessing to their parents. They care about people...the poor, the homeless, the rich...it doesn't matter. They are loyal men in all their relationships. They tell the truth. They are free from the vices that capture the hearts and lives of lesser men. They speak out against injustice and stand for what they believe is right. They use their God-given talents. They work hard to provide for their wives. They laugh when something is funny, and they cry when something is sad. They are good men...great men!

I know some may read this is and say, "He is just a proud poppa." But I assure you if you knew my boys, you would be singing their praises as loudly and with as much enthusiasm as I do.

My boys are good men...great men!