The First Tears

The young warrior is down for the count.  Brandon officially came down with the flu late afternoon yesterday.  I knew something was up when he turned down dinner and went upstairs and fell fast asleep.  He threw up most of the night and moaned and groaned from abdominal pain.

Is there anything more pitiful than a sick boy or man?  Even the strongest of warriors appreciate a mother’s care and love when they don’t feel well.  It actually brought my son to tears when I wiped off his mouth and cheek.  “Thanks, Mom” and the tears flowed as he wiped them away immediately.  This was the first time I have ever seen the boy cry tears.  He puts up a macho front. He’s been taught since birth that men don’t cry.  In fact as he had a tooth drilled without any drugs at 7 years of age, the doctor said if he cried, he’d drill harder.  Trying to reprogram that mindset has failed until this point.  Son, real men cry.  Dad cries.  Grandpa and BeBe cry.  Pastor Sean cries.  Even Jesus Christ wept.

 Anyway, I hate that my boy is sick.  I feel so helpless.  However, it’s nice to know that underneath all his fledgling muscles and toughness is a heart of gold, which is soft and tender.   I’m honored to be able to care for him when he needs me the most.