My in-the-middle one - he exasperates and delights. He roars his frustration, screams his pain, kicks his disciplinarian - and in him you will find fullness of joy - it lives in him. Christ lives in him. Isaac is certain of it - his Savior has come and made him clean. He is forgiven, he is Christ's own, certain of his eternity - not entirely sure how to surrender this day, this emotion, this frustration - but eternity is certain. 
"Mommy, will you pray for my hands? My fingers got hurt swinging on that vine." Head rammed into my belly, fully expecting my immediate prayer, I kiss his red fingers and palms and agree with him. God, you know the adventures you have planned for Isaac - make his finger skin so tough that they will last - through all the adventures of today. "Thanks Mom," and he's off.
Today I read this and thought - wow - yes. I thank you, God, for my boy's enormous struggles (and lack of sufficient struggle) to keep his body and emotions under authority - thank you for the purity of his heart. Protect it from hardening like pharoah's and mine. Keep him tenderly devastated by his sin - eager to be forgiven, craving the protection and comfort of the Lover-of-his-soul. I want to be like him.
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