Twelve.

Twelve.

First born.

A little piece of your heaven.

Fishing with your best buddies.

What comes to mind

are thoughts that every mom must think and say.

They sound so cliche

that they are worn down from over use and lose their meaning.

Every mom grows up

with that first born.

Because there is a child part

of each mom

that begins to grow up

when that first born looks her in the eyes

and her heart cracks wide-open

with a feeling she's never had before.

A feeling that seems to swallow her up.

Yet it explosive at the same time.

A desire to do it all perfectly.

Preparing for a baby.

The baby arrives

and then mom can't remember

the days before you came,

the days before you walked,

before you ran,

before you spoke,

before you could read,

before you could decide

that you love to fish

and are fascinated with military aircraft.

And twelve.

Twelve more equals twenty-four.

And mom lets go a bit more . . .

You are such a great twelve.

With a heart for what it good and noble and right.

Manly.  Respect.  Honor.

With friends that challenge you to live your best.

Trusting that God has His hand on you for the next

twelve.