When we were younger my brother and I were (for the most part) responsible kids. When we were old enough to stay at home alone, our parents trusted that we would make the right decisions. But there were times we weren't so responsible or respectful where my parents would look at us and say (almost like a curse), "I hope your children do to you what you did to us."
My brother is in a totally different world with his kids. He has three beautiful little girls that are going to be giving him all kinds of grief. And if it isn't them, it will be the boys that come around his house that might do him in.
Not me. I have three boys. Each time one of them was around two years old, my mom would say that that was the one that was just like me, finished off with a hearty "Ha Ha Ha, Chuck." Obviously they can't all be just like me, When we just had two, it was easy for me to see which one was me, and which one was my brother. One time when the older one was sitting nicely watching something on t.v. when the younger (now middle-child) just went up to him and pushed him in the back. I couldn't help but laugh and call my brother to say that I was watching my kids re-enact something that happened between us so many times. Then the third little guy came and threw me for a loop. He's not exactly like me, and not quite like my brother. It will take me some time to figure him out.
What I am worried about is the middle one. He is very much a little version of me. There are good things about this, and some very troubling things as well. I know that as he grows up, he will never have a problem with sports. He isn't going to be a bully, and will stick up for the anyone that needs it. The thing I am worried about is him taking care of himself. It took me years to accept the fact that I dealt with depression. And even when I did realize it, it took even longer for me to actually do something about it. There were a lot of times that God was working overtime, because I am still here, despite the fact that I didn't want to be.
As I watch him grow up, I am afraid that he is going to face the same internal struggles that I did. He isn't quite old enough yet to try to explain to him what I went through, and that it doesn't have to be that way for him. And who knows, maybe the fact that he is growing up knowing that there is a God who loves him and wants only the best for him, just like his parents want for him, that he won't get down as low as I did.
I knew my parents loved me, and that still wasn't enough. I'm praying that he finds a relationship with Him sooner then I did.
My brother is in a totally different world with his kids. He has three beautiful little girls that are going to be giving him all kinds of grief. And if it isn't them, it will be the boys that come around his house that might do him in.
Not me. I have three boys. Each time one of them was around two years old, my mom would say that that was the one that was just like me, finished off with a hearty "Ha Ha Ha, Chuck." Obviously they can't all be just like me, When we just had two, it was easy for me to see which one was me, and which one was my brother. One time when the older one was sitting nicely watching something on t.v. when the younger (now middle-child) just went up to him and pushed him in the back. I couldn't help but laugh and call my brother to say that I was watching my kids re-enact something that happened between us so many times. Then the third little guy came and threw me for a loop. He's not exactly like me, and not quite like my brother. It will take me some time to figure him out.
What I am worried about is the middle one. He is very much a little version of me. There are good things about this, and some very troubling things as well. I know that as he grows up, he will never have a problem with sports. He isn't going to be a bully, and will stick up for the anyone that needs it. The thing I am worried about is him taking care of himself. It took me years to accept the fact that I dealt with depression. And even when I did realize it, it took even longer for me to actually do something about it. There were a lot of times that God was working overtime, because I am still here, despite the fact that I didn't want to be.
As I watch him grow up, I am afraid that he is going to face the same internal struggles that I did. He isn't quite old enough yet to try to explain to him what I went through, and that it doesn't have to be that way for him. And who knows, maybe the fact that he is growing up knowing that there is a God who loves him and wants only the best for him, just like his parents want for him, that he won't get down as low as I did.
I knew my parents loved me, and that still wasn't enough. I'm praying that he finds a relationship with Him sooner then I did.
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