The Long Robe of the Lord

Mister, Peanut and I had been enjoying the cold Spring sunshine at the Skate Park. They stretched their legs after a long winter and I marveled at how much they had grown since the last of the fall leaves had been buried by snow. Mister floated up and down the concrete ramps on his razor scooter – tall, lean and confident. He passed; flashed a “watch what I can do” smile, and headed for the half pipe. I smiled back and squinted at the sky, searching for a cloud, a traveling witness, to carry that smile, that confidence to the our birth mother across the ocean. Let her see him, I prayed. Let her feel the health of his bones and the strength of his heart in her soul.

We stayed until the baby’s fingers were red with cold. As Mister climbed in the van I tossed him a Kleenex with which to wipe the double-barrel snot trails that were collecting on his upper lip.

“Here you go, Little Man.”

“I don’t need it,” he answered.

“Don’t wipe that snot on your sleeve, Son,” I threatened.

“I didn’t. I just sucked it back into my nose.”

I looked in the rear-view mirror. The upper lip was bone dry.

“Mister, you can’t wipe your snot on your sleeve. That is so nasty. We are on the way to school and now you have snot on your shirt. It is just nasty. When I give you a Kleenex, use it!”

Without delay, he answered in calm and quiet defiance.

“When Jesus comes back, he doesn’t have a tissue. He is going to use his sleeve.”

I faced the road and just kept driving. Mister is an old soul. Maybe he knows something I don’t about the long robe of the Lord.