I remember the discovery of each one. The wonder and what if’s and what will be’s of these babies. How badly I wanted a boy before they came. And then getting one. Then two. Then three. Then four. Then five little men. The dream rising like a Phoenix in my life. The memory of telling my grandma when I was ten years old that I would have five boys. She had four sons and one pregnancy lost and in those days I adored my “horse” grandma. She ran a stables, rode horses instead of walking, and loved her boys.

And I raise my boys today with this forefront in my mind — how do I keep my precious little men from becoming lost men? 

And the name arises: Jesus.

Jesus, I pray day after day. “Beloved Savior, save my boys from this world.

All around I see men marked for slaughter. Like the marked sheep in the hills around our home. Branded for death. Food for the masses. These men who feed on the world, and then feed the world. Consumed by their choices. Their appetite for this life.  

On my knees, I beg for this not to be for my boys. Jesus, mark my little men with your blood. Do it now. So the God of heaven sees. So the god of this world sees. The mark. The blood. The price paid for my little men at the cross.

There’s a cross in the hills near our home where the sheep graze.

Along the road to this cross are rocks marked with white paint. Only once a year at Easter is this road open to the feet of men. This winding way up the mountain. These painted rocks revealing the path to the cross. The one who’s gone before always knows the best way. A shepherd guide for the feet of men. 

I pray for Scott and I to be shepherd guides showing our little men the way to the cross. How can they find it if we don’t live it? How can we live it if we don’t see it? The cross before us day after day so our little men aren’t marked for death?

These little men who do what we do. Say what we say. Live what we live. 

The oldest one already escaping my pictures. Trying to find his own way in this world.

“Stay on the path,” his dad and I say. “The directions are here in this book.” We hand our oldest son the Bible. Again and again, place the Good Book in the hands of our little men. And do our best not to get lost ourselves in this world. All these little men in our wake. 

Jesus, keep us on the path with You. The gate is narrow. Marked with the blood of the Lamb. Help us find our way with all these little men. You are the way, the truth, and the life, help us, Lord.