My Boy

I love having a boy. 

Dirtied toes, fire trucks, ambitiousness, any variety of ball, collecting leaves, the need to rough-play on the floor, fearlessness, catching insects.  I could go on and on.  The little boy spirit is adorable to me, and I hope to encourage it in Sam.  

I told Scott just the other day that I’d be content with a house full of boys, if the Lord wills.  I’d like to have a quiver full of ‘em.

I feel blessed, privileged, that God would entrust us to raise a little boy.  There’s much to instill in him.  Leadership, diligence, protectiveness, good work ethic, gentleness, chivalry, a need to provide, unconditional love, self-discipline, wisdom and discernment.  I’d be lying if I said I’m not a tiny bit intimidated to think of my duty in raising a boy...a shepherd…a husband.  But, oh, it’s so fun.

Sometimes I have to remind myself when I’m disciplining our boy for the fourth time in one day that it’s a loving, gracious thing to do.  Exhausting, tedious, wearisome?  Yes.  And that’s when I preach to my despairing heart, “I’m spanking him because I love him too much to not spank him.”  I suppose sooner rather than later I’ll need to begin telling Sam that, as well.  Maybe it will help ease the pain for us both.

This verse has been my portion of strength lately:

“Whoever spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline.”  Proverbs 13:24

Hooray for little boys who will hopefully grow up to be big boys that love their mommas, cut her grass, and drop by every once in a while for no particular reason.