Precious

He was a boy who was a little too old to be buckled into the cart with seats at Target. I recognized right away that he must have some disabilities. But I also noticed his smile right away. This was a happy, beautiful child.

Dear mama, thank you for giving him life. Not just allowing him birth (although that is becoming less common and destroying life that might be imperfect more so). Thank you for giving him the best life. Do you know how I know?

His bib.

It is bright white, not a stain on it. He must soil them with drool and food, but you take care of even this small detail. Thank you for caring.

We walk out to the parking lot together, you carrying your child and me carrying my purchases. It is raining, so you pull his hood up and over his head. By his wide grin and upturned face, though, I don’t think he minded the raindrops one bit. Another lady is headed in the same direction and we share a smile at your son’s joy.

As I watch you buckle him up while I pull away, I pray for you, Dear Jesus, gird her with strength for this day, and the days ahead. I am guessing even the difficulties of his care can reach a monotony. If she does not know You, I pray that You would reveal Yourself to her; may she see You in that precious boy’s smile.

I know I do.