The First Time

Yesterday my 15-year-old son had a first in his life. He hit his first home run. I'm not talking about pee-wee league home runs where you hit a grounder to the shortstop and he throws it over the first baseman's head. While Nate scrambles to second, the first baseman retrieves the ball and heaves into the outfield. You know the routine. I'm talking a bona fide, over-the-fence, trot around the bases homerun. I think it surprised him as much as it did me. It was something he'll remember for the rest of his life.
I started to think about obscure things that happened in my life that are tucked in the inner recesses that only happened once, but are indelibly printed on my gray matter. I think about the conversation that I had with my best man. We in the basement of his house the night before he was to get married. We talked of getting involved in the church. I thought about the winning free throw I made in a basketball game when I was in junior high. Or, the moment my precious fiancee become my bride. I still remember the feeling I had when I came up from the baptismal waters after my dad baptized me.
As I watched my son trot around the bases, I couldn't help but be proud. And I have been thinking about those moments in his life that he'll remember. I pray to God that they'll be good memories. That they'll be ones that put a smile on his face, not a frown on his heart. I hope your memories are good ones, too. Have a great day. JW