August 10 Slate and his Pappa

Slate has always had a uniqueness about him. Always. A quirkiness, if you will. His diagnosis with Aspergers explained a lot of the differences between him and his peers. Yet, there is always the underlying stigma wherever we are that he is just....well, different.

Tonight, I saw our son, seven years old, gather his pappa's hand in prayer and led our family in the most precious prayer that I could ever have imagined. Speechless. As I looked upon his face, knowing how much he loves his pappa, I saw him giving his blessing for his pappa to go on...to join his nanna and sissy.

I think, perhaps, too often that we dismiss the spiritualness of our children...delegating them to where we assume they should be instead of fully appreciating where they are. Child-like faith isn't a simple faith but rather the kind of faith that hasn't been tarnished by the skepticism of this world. A faith that is without question but rather just is.

I love that kind of faith. The kind of faith that we, as adults, seem to have to fight our way back to. The faith that moves mountains even today. The faith that parts the seas and rises the dead. It is ours for the taking...not to be feared but to be embraced. Not to be hidden but to be shared.

Slate and his Pappa two weeks ago.