His name means "man of peace". And so he has always been.
Growing up a lone lad with three sisters was not an easy journey. There were times, in the early years they would vex his soul beyond endurance. In the worst of times, he would stand, fists doubled, shaking them and muttering through
teeth clenched: "Oh I wish I could hit them!". He never did, though at times they were not doubt deserving.
He was from early days a creative thinker, a serious thinker. He was gifted in many ways, not the least of which was that of a keen wit. This alone perhaps saved him from the maddening ways of the sisters three.
As a boy he put his faith in Christ and as an early teen, vowed to spend time daily in God's Word. So he has done. So he became a man. And such a man.
A Renaissance Man of sorts really, husband, father, teacher, builder, craftsman, gardener, writer, singer, poet, composer. He continues to be an attentive reader, lover and doer of the Word. He is a seeker, a learner, an overcomer and the best example of worthy pilgrim I know.
In truth, I would wish for every woman such a son. Through the years he has been my friend, my mentor, my constant joy and delight.
Happy Birthday This Day, Son of my heart.
How very thankful I am for the man you have become "through many dangers, toil and snares".
Mark the blameless man
and behold the upright,
for there is a happy end for the man of peace.