“Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from Him.”  Psalm 127:3

Brian celebrated his fourth birthday on 14 April, 2010. He is so proud of being a big boy now.  Today, he keeps telling everyone still he turned four years old.  

This child is a colourful character.  He is rebellious, adventurous and strong willed.  In our world of methodical, boring grown ups, we would term him the naughty child. 

Secretly, I wish I had inherited some of his recklessness and desire for  dangerous living.  His daily existence is anything but mundane and, boring.  He would jump from chair to chair for the sheer fun of it, or take a calculated risk and jump from the dressing table to the bed.  At times he would climb the door grill in an attempt to touch the ceiling, or risk caning by defying his father’s orders not to meddle with the forbidden object, the notebook.

This is the only child who can make me laugh and cry at the same time. 

Most of the time, he teaches me more about life than I can teach him.  Sometimes, on rare occasions, I try to teach him about nature and him being part of it. 

One evening many months ago, I had some precious time to spend with him and James at the park after the baby was born.  Both of them ran and, jumped and, played till it was time to go home. 

“Feel your heartbeat,” I said to them.

They paused to take a breather after a long run when I told them to put their tiny hand against their chest.    

“Can you feel it beating?” I asked.

Brian was especially excited to be able to feel his heart galloping.

Today was like any other for Brian.  It was a day of adventure and play.  Not for me though.  I had had a long night of broken sleep taking care of the boys.   

He was scampering and jumping and climbing as usual in our room, while I lay comatose on the bed trying to get some sleep. 

He suddenly came beside me and asked me to feel his heartbeat.

I put my hand on his chest.  I could feel his heart, beating steadily, doing its job diligently. 

In turn, he put his tiny hand against my chest, trying to find my beating heart. 

“Mummy, are you dying?” he asked.  Possibly, what he meant to ask was ‘Are you dead?”

“Err, I hope not,” I replied.  “Why do you say so?”

“Because I cannot feel your heart,” he replied.

For a fleeting moment, even I wasn’t sure if I were alive or dead when I couldn’t find my heartbeat as hard as I tried to. 

But surely if I am still breathing I cannot be dead, I reasoned with myself.

Today, thanks to the little boy, I am reminded of the gift of life.  

Every day, I thank God for giving me this beautiful child.  He keeps me alive and on my toes with his zest for life. 

Happy Belated Birthday Brian!  I love you always.