Thursday, October 6, 2011
This child of mine, this gift of pure joy has nothing that needs to be fixed. He is a work in progress, a light that shines into dark recesses that, without him, would have gone unnoticed. His world is simple and sensible and when it begins to get complicated, he finds his way to a soothing, simple, and sensible place. I am his rock, yet he is a rock for so many. Joy and laughter and love emanate as physical senses from his soul. This boy is special, aren’t they all? His needs are special like all children’s should be. He is as different as each being created is different. He is perfection in his simplicity of what is good, he is perfection in his capacity to love, he is perfection in his expressions of great thinking. This child of mine, this child of mine, this child of mine.