Twenty years old. Two weddings in a week. Faithful friend and cousin, honored to stand as witness to a monumental rite of passage into manhood. My son.

Even as the grooms say "I do", my heart swells with the notion that his turn will arrive one day soon. After two decades, a mom knows the sober, sometimes sad truth that "time flies".

Twenty and a man. Soon to honor His God, family and country and set sail on a ship. I yelled at him yesterday, like he was twelve (he was running and throwing a basketball in the house, inciting all four of his younger brothers to mayhem). How silly I felt, when I remembered, while forever my boy, he is a man. How silly he looked at me . . surprised and unsure whether to laugh or run. He quickly forgave when I said sorry, and he hugged me. So tall, so strong, so unbelievably far from the babe I birthed.

Yet forever the same in my heart.

God, please hold him since I no longer can. Watch over him, while I stand watch in prayer.

My son forever, please make him Your man.