Day of the King

It's not easy being King.

    One must rise before the dawn breaks, loathing the thought of disturbing ones royal slumber.  The goose down pillow, the satin soccer sheets, the hand tied comforter are just too much for a man of such stature to relinquish in the blink of an eye.  Don't you agree?  Alas, the descend from his mattress on high is always eminent, and the royal robes await wherever they may be found.

    "Now let me think, which thread of cloth might fit my royal physique most comfortably this day of thirteen?" his highness asks himself, glancing upon the floor of his chamber.  "Ah yes, yesterday's attire will please me as such.  What choice robes have I.  Yes, yes.  Such a handsome devil.  I could charm the stuffing out of a roast duck.  Ha, ha.  Such merriment is good for the gout I'm told.  Yes..."
    Now if the King hasn't lost himself in the mirror, mirror on his wall, he will come to his olfactory senses and begin his journey towards the room of savory sausage, eggs over easy & griddle cakes.  "Such decadence," says he.  Of course the staff must join him in this day of majesty, of valor, of accomplishment.   The occasion suits itself to be a day of celebration, eternally endowed with sausage links, Etcha Sketch and Chess, song, pastries, noble subjects to praise and adore him and most importantly, the power to do what ever he deems worthy.  (Except skip school.)
    This day, the thirteenth day of December, in the year of our Lord, 2012, my first born turned 9 years of age.  A sight any Queen Mother would be proud of.  My, not so little anymore, King Ethan is a blessing to behold and a boy (in the biggest sense of the word) to be respected and unconditionally loved.  He harbors true greatness within.  The birthright that will guide him through the next nine years and ready him for the task of serving his Savior and King, Jesus Christ.  The thought brings this mother to her knees.
    The task of raising a child of royal birth to breath, live, love & learn the ways of the Master is a task not meant for the faint of heart.  And my heart aches often, but I would be worried if it did not.
    It's not easy being a King nor Queen Mother.  The board is laid each day, the pieces placed accordingly, first and second moves are made with tactics thought out and executed in the hope of triumph. But ultimately, in the game of chess, and in life, the most important strategy of the game is...Sacrifice.   Sacrifice is to be humbly given for the life and to protection of one's son, one's daughter, one's spouse, one's family.  It is not easy, but well worth it.  I am reminded, this Day of the King.

I love you Ethan.  I will be your check mate any day.