I am very glad for my children of our body. Once there were ones who thought calling him “of the flesh” was an insult, but none is ever intended.
I have been surprised how much I may share with my elder son Noah. He loves music and we explore it together. He has a concern with religion, where I tread lightly, but I find his desire to ask questions similar to myself. He loves stories where there are witches and wolves, although we take a care in the selection. And this summer I will teach him to fish from a dock.
Children of the flesh have very many needs, and even more desires. I like to indulge my elder son now and then with some ice cream or some such thing, but never at a price. I think he has taught me much about giving freely. That not all things are lessons, nor tests. I desire such a world for him, and so I find myself aiding, in the smallest of ways, in creating it. That is a large gift to me.
I worry that he will one day pay the price of being mine and it worries me. I would not have him in this role in any way.
Today is his birthing-day and for all that we have lost and given up, I still feel he is a gift like none other. From the small arc that was left after the flooded world in the wake of the death of my daughter, he arrived with a future entire. I am glad for him. I would I had said it louder the earlier.