Middle Child

They all play piano minus my middle child.  He chose violin.

We celebrated his eleventh birthday this week.  He wanted to play football with friends and have ice cream mixers.

I think about his life.  Today my hip hurts and I'm pretty sure I can trace it back to him as a baby.  He never wanted me to carry him, was always leaning out and grabbing.  That's all fine except that he was one heck of a chunk.

And the pain didn't stop there.  He naturally knew what a tantrum was and how to throw one well.  He has a mind of his own and wasn't afraid of disagreeing.  He has a knack for finding what makes you tick and pushing that button.  He's why Brian coined the phrase, "if it's not fun for everyone, it's not good fun."

But the flip side is he has an amazing heart for justice.  He's practically memorized The Action Bible.  He thrives on knights and fighting for the right and his heart is soft if you explain gently.

His humor is getting funny and growing in appropriate-ness.  He works hard; once he understands a job, he does it well and thoroughly without a complaint.  He looks out for the underdog.  He loves little kids and prides himself on his math.  He has a fascination with planes and all things military.  He loves dress up and playing pretend even now.

I've learned a lot from him and believe God has much more to teach me through his life.  I'm praying earnestly his heart is always soft to God and he seeks first His Kingdom and His Righteousness.

My dad writes poems for the kids on their birthdays.  Here's the one for Dawson.

The 'Middles'

There is beginnings and there's ends,

There's firsts and there are lasts.

Sometimes these bookends catch the eye

and what's between gets passed.

There's those who catch the football

and there's those who make the toss,

but the middle of the line

is what keeps all from being lost.

There's those who search the wilderness,

There's those who write the tombs.

There's those who lead out far ahead

and those who stay at home.

There's all of that romantic stuff 

of sailing seven seas.

There's all of those who ponder

in the universities.

Then there's those who build the bridges

and there's those who fight the wars.

There's those who raise up children

and there's those who mind the stores.

There's those who care for animals,

There's those who entertain.

There's those who load the trucks and ships,

There's those who grow the grain.

The 'middles' are important,

They're essential; just the same

They often go unnoticed

while expected to remain.

It seems they're like the planets

sparkling bright in pre-dawn sky,

but then the hand of brighter sun

obscures them from our eye.

But though they are obscured

by all the glorious yellow light,

They run their course with diligence

unnoticed 'til next night.

We cannot measure truly

what the 'middles' worth might be;

so we must pause, appreciate,

and sing out thankfully.