Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall...

They said it would happen, and they weren't kidding.  My child is a Mini-Me.

He talks (and talks and talks), and it has been quite clear, for some time, that his vocabulary is largely comprised of words that he hears on a regular basis.  That's how it's supposed to work, after all.  But, now, a new phase has approached: my sweet child is now imitating actions.  And, frankly, he's quite good.

For example, at regular intervals throughout the day, my little boy toddles over to his toy box, collects several small items, and puts them into a schoolhouse-shaped box of his.  Then, he picks up his wares, and hustles over to the gate at the top of our steps and announces, "It's time to go to work."  (Often, he then yells "see you...bye bye" repeatedly as he runs down the hallway, out of sight.) (And by "often", I mean, "approximately 209890 times a day).

Also, he has lately been repeating the following phrase "What time IS it?  Let me check my phone."  And then, as he has done for some time, my boy eagerly hunts for the nearest phone.

And, of course, he has taken quite a liking to imitating me when I yawn and stretch.  I have to admit, sometimes I do this a bit more than necessary, just because I delight in watching his reenactment at least as much as he enjoys doing it.

Sometimes, as I consider the great joys that my experience as a parent has provided, I think, with great sorrow, about the parents of children who grow up to be notorious criminals.  I think of the people who have children that are born with some sort of incurable disease or inoperable deficiency.  I think about parents who are perpetually plagued with the guilt of having brought another mouth into the world without the means of feeding it.  I think about the children whose parents don't want them.  My heart is so heavy for the plight of these people.  What profound anguish must eat away at their hearts as they watch their beautiful child, the love of their lives, turn into less than they should be because they lack the ability to become all that they can.  And, what despair those parents must feel to be without the resources that they would surely lavish on their children if they only had the chance.  It is devastating.

This job of being a parent is a tough one.  There are surely ups and downs, and great sacrifices must inevitably be made, even under the best circumstances.  But, I treasure every moment that I have with my son.  It is truly miraculous to see this little child, with all the curiosity and imagination he can muster, living out his days (at rapid-fire pace, I might add...where has the time gone?).  He engages the world around him in a way that is inspiring and exciting.  He teaches me so much each and every day, and has discovered a way to hold me accountable just by merely desiring to be like me.  I learn so much, too, about how God must view me as His child.  I can understand much more clearly how it is possible to love someone no matter how infuriating they are.  I can see more fully how miraculous the gift of God's patience is as He continues gently lead us in a particular direction and as we continue to go another way, not having the vision or knowledge to understand the perils that will cross our path.  I ache now to think of Abraham committing to sacrifice Isaac, and how much more for God to sacrifice His only son, Jesus Christ.

What an emotionally-charged experience this is...and I'm not even two years in.