From the moment our sons were born I have derived great pleasure in sharing in their "first" experiences. It has been a joy to see life through their eyes. The first time they did anything was usually an exciting moment and often a milestone, a marker for their lives progressing forward. It still is.
These ordinary things seemed miraculous to me.
The first time I saw them, totally naked -their perfectly formed little bodies .. fresh from God.
The first time I heard them cry.
The first time time they nursed at my breast.
The first time their little hands clasped onto my finger.
The first time I felt their little warm breath on my neck.
The first time I saw them in my husband's arms.
The first time they smiled, they laughed or recognized something or someone.
The first time they rolled over, sat up, or ate solid food.
Their first words.
Their first Christmas.
The first time they crawled.
Their first steps.
Their first pair shoes.
Their first Birthday.
Their first pets.
Their first friend.
The first time they saw the ocean and played in the sand.
Their first day of preschool.
Their first ride on the school bus for their first day of school.
Their first bikes and the first time they could ride without training wheels.
So many first times through the years..all cherished moments in time.
This morning I was fidgeting with something in my purse and when I looked up through the rain drizzled windshield, I saw my sons and my husband dressed in suits helping to carry the casket from the funeral home out to the hearse.
It struck me how this was another first time..their first time being pallbearers together. Not the usual "first time" that I have come to anticipate as a mother. A poignant memory never the less. My husband and older son have done this, but it was younger son's first funeral experience. And it was the first time they had done this together.
To everything there is a season.