Rest

As a mother, I knew I would worry for my son. Nothing in our adoption process prepared me for my current fears. As my son sheds his little boy looks, I worry more. This has been running through my mind:

When your son goes to get skittles,
    You worry he will get cavities.
    I worry he will get shot.

When your son plays loud music
   You worry he will annoy the neighbors
   I worry he will get shot 

When your son plays with a toy guns in a store
   You worry he will make a mess
   I worry he will get shot.

When your son plays with a toy gun in a park
   You worry he will get a welt
   I worry he will get shot 

When your son knocks on a door to get help
   You worry he will be ignored
   I worry he will get shot  

When your son has a blown taillight
  You worry he will get a ticket
  I worry he will get shot or shot

When your son goes to his bachelor party
   You worry he will get drunk
   I worry he will get shot 

When your son comes home
   You worry he will track mud in the house
   I worry he will get shot 

When your son comes home
   You give him a big hug
   I give him a big hug and pray for all the mothers who don't get to hug their sons

Be kind to the mother and father. They carry a heavy burden.

To close, a better poet then me, Bobby McFerrin  : "I am leaning on your joy, without your joy I can't make it, I won't make it oh Lord" ("Rest / Yes Indeed")