I remember sadly the scrapes of my early life. The older I get, the further back in my remembrance, the pain. Dr. Smith, on Lost in Space was always crying, "Oh, the pain, the pain, the pain!"
Today, it is my Ethan who is crying "oh the pain of it".
He is old to have this kind of pain. We've been through a break of a bone with him and now he decided to scrape up his body and take off a "whole heap of skin", in the process. This, I hear is a manly rite of passage. I heard him screaming and began to pray. I cannot tell you the long process of the week that led up to this rite. All of heaven, came to comfort me and some of earth. Pats on the back in the exact place where the cut would be and I remember, this is what makes a man out of him. I know that you would have placed your body underneath him to protect his very skin. Love said, it is for his own growth process. He is not a baby and God ordains even these things.
Last night we used the cleaning of the wounds to remember my daddy's rite of passage through switchblade play. Thank God that this is not the naughtiness that we are cleaning up. I sat with my grandma, years after and saw the agony on her face as she recounted her son's torn skin. Here I was following her agony to clean up the wounds of "war"? Not war but disobedience. Praying that this will be part of beating our swords or switchblades to plowshears. The stories flowed in the night and the bar-mitzva continues.
I remember sadly the scrapes of my early life. The older I get, the further back in my remembrance, the pain. Dr. Smith, on Lost in Space was always crying, "Oh, the pain, the pain, the pain!"
Today, it is my Ethan who is crying "oh the pain of it".
He is old to have this kind of pain. We've been through a break of a bone with him and now he decided to scrape up his body and take off a "whole heap of skin", in the process. This, I hear is a manly rite of passage. I heard him screaming and began to pray. I cannot tell you the long process of the week that led up to this rite. All of heaven, came to comfort me and some of earth. Pats on the back in the exact place where the cut would be and I remember, this is what makes a man out of him. I know that you would have placed your body underneath him to protect his very skin. Love said, it is for his own growth process. He is not a baby and God ordains even these things.
Last night we used the cleaning of the wounds to remember my daddy's rite of passage through switchblade play. Thank God that this is not the naughtiness that we are cleaning up. I sat with my grandma, years after and saw the agony on her face as she recounted her son's torn skin. Here I was following her agony to clean up the wounds of "war"? Not war but disobedience. Praying that this will be part of beating our swords or switchblades to plowshears. The stories flowed in the night and the bar-mitzva continues.
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