Was that a good one, daddy?

My youngest son, the REALLY blonde one, is quite the little athlete. I spent several hours yesterday kicking the soccer ball around with him. He had scored 5 of his teams 11 goals on Saturday and then Sunday we were out in the yard working on making him a better soccer player. This is not because I'm one of those sick fathers who desperately cling to their youth by living vicariously through their children and therefore, push their children to athletic and academic extremes. He, my young soccer player, was begging me to play. At one point I suggested we go in and get a drink of water. He wasn't willing to go in until I assured him we would come back outside and continue to play after we got our drink.

He bought himself a football several weeks ago and did the same thing. He begged to throw the ball. He is eager to learn how to take a snap, throw, catch, call plays, etc. In less than an hour he had mastered the spiral pass. He knew how to take a snap like a pro... not like the shotgun formation we all loved when I was a kid. He knew how to drop back into the (imaginary) pocket after taking the ball. It got completely dark and we came in the house but when his mother got home some time later he insisted that we go back outside and show her, in the dark of night, all that he had learned.

He's not some dumb jock either. He works hard at learning to read and tries very hard to understand the math that his eight year old brother is doing in school. He's funny, especially to the little girls at his school. He's gentle with those who are weaker than him and he stands up to the bullies in his class. Like his brother, he's an exquisite piece of work.

Thank you God for blessing my life with these two boys. Thank you God for making them so different from each other. Thank you God for giving them some of your own characteristics. Thank you God for the joy they bring to all around them. Thank you for trusting them to my care.