My son in whom I am very pleased.

I can hardly believe it's been three weeks since I wrote anything. Time has once again gotten away from me.

Tomorrow is a great example of how time gets away. It's my son's 15th birthday.

I'm not quite sure now it happened, but he's taller than me even when I wear heels. And his voice is deeper. And he's got fuzz on his lip.

And now, when girls call his name and wave, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Of course, this is the same boy who used to play with my hair while I read to him.

This is the same boy who locked himself IN the bathroom when he was four and couldn't get himself out.

This is the same boy who wanted to know if we could find somebody to trade with if we didn't like the new baby (Rachel).

This is the same boy who told the doctor that the purpose of a ceiling was to hold the fan up.

When the rest of the Cub Scout pack was asking the visiting banker how much money was in his bank and how much a car cost, this is the 9 year-old boy who asked him to explain, "What is economics?"

This is the same boy who has endured terrible pain and anguish over the last five years while we have sought a way to control his horrible migraines.

This is the same boy who has been absent from school more than he has attended in the last four years, and manages to get As and Bs in honors and AP classes.

This is the same boy who was too shy to order his own kids meal at the burger joint, but who now teaches skills to younger scouts.

This is the same boy who writes fiction so well that a literary agent, upon reading Chapter 1 of a novel he started, told him to finish it, send it in, and not to tell anyone his age.

This is the same boy who questioned God's love for him when he wasn't healed, and came up with the right answer anyway.

This is the same boy who reduces his sister to tears telling her she has rabies and scurvy and leprosy (or scurvaceous rabid leprosy complicated with dandruff), but is genuinely concerned when she says she feels bad.

How did that little baby who sucked his thumb the day he was born turn into this strong, compassionate, resilient, and interesting person?

And for all his amazing accomplishments, he's not perfect. (No, Nana, he's not!)

But he is my son, and I am very pleased with him. And I am grateful to be his Mom and watch him grow up.

Well, God is watching us, His children, too. Do you think He's amazed at how much we've grown? Is He surprised at how mature we are? Or are we late bloomers - a spiritual failure to launch living in the basement?

Is He very pleased?

anything but typical