Happy birthday Ethan!

And the last of my three boys has become a man :)

What an incredible journey it has been so far, for Mummy and I, to see all of you grow up into fine young God-fearing men. It hasn't always been smooth of course but that's part of life, part of the journey, part of the imperfections we see only in those close to us.

Imperfections. I was reminded of this word by something Mummy shared recently. We do not strive for perfection to inspire, but inspire through showing how we deal with our imperfections. Initially I wrote "how we overcome our imperfections", but realised that that suggests an element of still trying to "achieve" perfection, which is a fool's errand. It is rather like seeking salvation through works, which is in some ways 'dishonest' (for want of a better word). It is then not a selfless act.

Dealing with imperfection is a better phrasing because it indicates acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that we cannot overcome our sin by ourselves. And we hope to inspire through referencing that we have Christ to help us overcome our imperfections.

Here's a funny story that I was reminded of by this perspective I mentioned earlier about how we tend to see imperfection only in those close to us. We see others as having more wonderful lives, more wonderful families and wonder "why can't my family be like theirs?" or "Why can't my life be like theirs?"  Or perhaps more appropriately these days, "Why isn't my life Insta-perfect?"

But long before social media, when I was a young boy in primary school, I had a classmate who was really well brought up, very prim and proper, a refined gentle soul, really the opposite of everything I was... I kid, I kid. But he was a role model to me in many ways, and we were the two best students in our class, swapping 1st and 2nd positions in class each term or year. I considered him a friend, though we weren't that close. He wasn't sporty at all for one. I thought his life was picture perfect and I don't know why but I recall that I once wrote a letter to him asking if I could be part of his family or something like that. Isn't that like the most bizarre thing ever? My memory is fuzzy now and maybe it's all in my imagination...

I don't think my life was particularly bad. We were comfortably middle-class and I lacked nothing in material comforts - one of the simple joys of life in those days was not really knowing what you 'lacked'. We were just happy with whatever we had, making the most of it. I never went on a family holiday, ever. Was I the poorer for it? Maybe in some small superficial way in hindsight but not in any real way that matters to my upbringing.

But still...I thought his life was better. And that's the tragedy of human covetousness. 

Anyways, I love all of you very much and I hope to see you all again very soon. And here's a little reminder of some of the wonderful birthday celebrations we have had in the past.