"My Skyler"

Some things run through my memory,

I wish I had on tape,

I can see them clearly,

So ‘fore they all escape,

I’ll try my best to tell you,

About my youngest son,

It was nineteen years ago,

Now his new life’s begun,

Way off down near Miami,

He’s living large and free,

But for his first nineteen years,

He spent them all with me.

It was labor and delivery,

I was standing close in prayer,

When my oldest daughter,

Gave birth to Skyler there.

Back then she was in trouble,

When he was five months old,

We made a Texas road trip,

And now the story’s told.

How she is saved and sober,

Hard-working wife and mom,

Raising three more children,

Knows where God’s victory’s from.

But little baby Skyler,

Became my son, you see,

I’d take nothing for him,

He’s a blessing strong to me.

And he became a baller,

I mean from T-ball on,

That kid he loved the baseball,

Could field and hit it long.

I guess we threw a thousand times,

And hit it hundreds more,

I hardly missed a practice,

Or a game or any score.

Here’s one from my memory,

Skyler in left field,

The other team’s best hitter,

The tension, it was real.

Kid hit a rising line drive,

To left center field,

When the ball came off the bat,

I say my young son wheel,

Wide open he was dashing,

Waffle-ironed the fence,

Glove out-stretched he caught it,

I’ve not forgot it since!

Once when he was batting,

Turned on an inside fast,

I was watching very closely,

As the rising drive went past.

It almost went on over,

Hit the fence right at the top,

And for once Skyler watched it,

At second had to stop.

But man his batting average,

That year was five one oh,

And when he came up to the plate,

He put on a show.

Too soon the baseball ended,

His passion shifted, too,

Photography and videos,

And posting skill it’s true.

And this won him the job he has,

They saw on Instagram,

Just how good his work is,

And so he left the fam.

He never made a cowboy,

Though he could ride a horse,

And we did that together,

And camp out time of course.

But that was not his cup of tea,

And I don’t really care,

‘Cause I am proud of who he is,

And all is gifts and flare.

The best thing yet about him,

Skyler loves the Lord,

He stays close with Jesus,

And lives by God’s own word.

The thoughts fly through my memory,

Relive them one by one,

Sometimes I’m laughing right out loud,

At times I’m crying some.

I’m glad God gave him to me,

And thankful we could raise,

This wonderful young champion,

For him I give God praise.

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from Him. Children are like arrows in a warrior’s hands…” (Psalm 127:4, NLT)

They might be your biological children. Or they might be your grandchildren. Or they might not be blood kin to you, but you serve as a surrogate parent to them, or a godparent, or an aunt or uncle. In any case, when we take the time to mentor young people, there is great reward and blessing in it. It can be trying, too, and anyone who engages in parenting knows it, especially when they grow into adolescence. But, bottom line, they grow up and move on, and we either maximize or miss the opportunity. This young grandson we adopted probably got more of my time and attention than any of my other five kids, simply because by that time I understood better what was needed. And I was determined to secure him. He now is like the proverbial arrow that is shooting into the future. Lord, help us aim well while we can.

Lord, thank You for giving us the opportunity to influence young people. Help us to do it well, in Jesus’ name.

Art by Jeff Gant, used by permission. Check out Jeff Gant’s art on Facebook. Thanks, Jeff, and God bless you.