I am the mother of sons. I could not be more proud of the men they have become. And, like most mothers of adult children, I am not really sure when it happened…when they grew up.

I can still hear….

The pitter-patter of our little boy’s feet as he practices his walking from one side of the room to another…..

The running feet of that three-year old as he chases the dog around the house….

The dashing feet of a six-year-old as he practices his basketball moves in the driveway….

The quick feet of the ten-year old as he runs in front of the lawn chair at a soccer game….

The wet feet of that twelve-year-old as he splashes down the shore running after his brother….

The slow meandering feet of that fourteen year old as you instruct him to clean his room for the umpteenth time….

The careful feet of that eighteen year old as he walks up to accept his high school diploma….then his college diploma….

The quiet feet of that twenty year old as he escorts you down the center aisle of the church for his own wedding…….

The heavy footsteps of the adult man as you lay awake in the guest bedroom of his home, and he heads off to work….

Pitter-Patter

IN CHRIST ALONE