This morning dawned like most mornings - too early. But it was not most mornings today, it was Easter. And there was celebrating to be done.
Today Tre was confirmed, which is to say he stood in front of the church (and the bishop) and claimed his faith as his own. He's been studying for weeks for this day, so he was prepared.
I was entirely unprepared.
He served as an acolyte today (altar boy), and he was the one to hold the book for the reading of the gospel. As I stood there, watching him look so dignified in his shirt and tie, I was suddenly struck by the fact that this is the start of the most important journey of his life. For a moment panic washed over me. How can he possibly be old enough to make a commitment like this?
I read once that after a woman gives birth, she carries the genetic material of her child in her blood for something like 27 years. I don't know how that could be, or even if it's true, but it sure feels true. At moments like this morning, my veins seem to resonate with my child, with the sweet ache of hope for him.
And then it was time for Tre to make his promises and take his turn kneeling in front of the bishop.
"Tre," he said, "God has called you by name and made you His own."
And Tre, God's own, was confirmed.
I closed my eyes and released him to God's care, again, at a level that left me slightly dizzy and distinctly weepy.
But in the end, I believe in God and I believe in Tre, and I believe they will work it out.