Today, is my youngest son’s birthday. Thirty one years ago, on a beautiful Sunday,( which is the best day to have a baby by the way), I gave out candy canes rather than cigars and wondered what Josh would be. I was a mother with three little boys under the age of 6. I admit, I worried a lot how their lives would turn out. I had faith in the men they would be. And I knew from the beginning I was blessed to be their mother for I never dreamed of the life that their lives would give me.
To understand what I mean, you need to know that these sons were raised in a home of faith, on the outside looking like they were Baptist bred, but in the working of the house, things were… more broadly defined. Or narrowly, depending upon how you view the house philosophy. We were bad Baptists, but committed Christians, exploring for the truth. To this day.
Which meant a lot of things along this path of motherhood and sons growing up. I want to tell you about one of them.
Jake was the first to be named a godparent, this tradition foreign to Baptists as far as I