It's baseball season around here. I love it and I hate it. Kobe has great fun playing. It's good exercise. It also opens my baby up for criticism. He plays catcher and sometimes doesn't catch the ball. He strikes out. Tonight I watched him strike out and then have a dad son talk with Darin. He was trying not to cry. After all, he had to hurry up and get his catchers gear off then head straight to bat. His friends hit before him. Why couldn't he hit? Just get a little piece of it? As a momma, I wanted to take him home right then and save him from the criticism. He is perfect. He is a miracle baby. If you don't believe it, just ask his poppa. BUT he has to grow up. He has to learn that you don't always hit every time. You don't catch all of the balls. You can't be perfect all of the time and neither can anyone else. It's still hard. Growing up is hard, but being the momma is too. The world is not perfect. It's not meant to be.
Speaking of our imperfect world, I just read Beth Moore's blog. It was about a dear friend of hers that died of cancer and how our bodies are not made for eternity. It made me think of my friend Sherry Wise. It's really worth reading!
Well, we play baseball again tomorrow. Pray for me to let go of my baby. In my eyes he will always be the little chubby faced boy who loved his mommy with his whole heart. Man, letting go is hard!