He’s beginning to play the guitar. He knows the chords. He picks at each one.
He’s not playing a song yet, but it will come. He practices every day. Usually Luke sits content, staring, mesmerized by his brother.
Sometimes he plays the guitar with such precision, careful to only hold down one string, that it leaves marks on his fingers.
Other times, he plays it like an 80’s rock star, his head flailing up and down.
I watch him often, much like Luke, mesmerized. I wonder what he’ll grow up to become, how God will use his life and if the next nine years will go by as fast as the first.
He often doesn’t understand the words his favorite artists sing about …
of love and failure and regrets.
I’m so glad.
The lyrics of his life are yet to be sung, but if today is any indication, one day they’re going to be beautiful.