JasonThis is my little cowboy.

His only horse is plastic and sits on springs.

His only gun is plastic but sparks when you fire it.

His boots are worn from miles of play.

One day after work my husband came home and commented on cowboy’s overalls.

“These are my working clothes.”

Daddy looked him over

then asked, “Did you get any work done today?”

Solemn and serious as anyone at his young age could be he looked into his Daddy’s eyes–


Daddy didn’t laugh, for that would have wounded the little fellow, but the crinkles around his eyes told me his heart was feeling the joy of the moment.

As he grows older, I savor these memories and still enjoy the childhood perspective that can ride a plastic horse and shoot a plastic gun and feel that a day was well spent.

He is our only son, the baby of four, and I have been taught things by him that our daughters never gave me.

Like the feeling of a fresh worm dropped straight down the inside of my blouse.

Or the horror of finding him sitting inside a swarm of bees, petting his new friends.

Or the thrill of a small hand in mine with a soft little voice saying, “Don’t worry Daddy, I’ll take care of Mommy while you are gone.”

What must be said is that both girls and boys are so valuable. Each of our daughters is precious in their own way and have brought tender, sweet, joy daily to our lives.

God has a plan and a purpose for every child, and His gift of a son or daughter to a family far out weighs any expense, trial, or effort.

I have asked the Lord many times that I would be thankful for each moment with our family. For one day the girls shall be women, and the cowboy shall drive instead of ride, and I will have the memories to cherish.

But before that day comes, don’t be surprised if you see me in the front yard, plastic gun in hand and following a small but determined cowboy, out to tame the Wild West.


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