Wealth

This is a picture of Isaiah on Christmas morning just after he opened his new backpack. Believe it or not, he had been going without one all school year, somehow carrying all his books and supplies in his arms. Isaiah is a kid with few needs. He makes no demands. But he knows what's important. His values are pure. You've heard the expression, "Out of the mouths of babes...." Obviously, nineteen-year-old Isaiah is no longer a "baby," but still, I'm always surprised by how much our kids have to teach us regardless of their ages.

A couple days ago, he and I were texting back and forth. He had just finished up his long weekend working 13-hour shifts both days at KFC. I thought labor laws prohibited this sort of thing, but apparently not at KFC in Utah. He was tired and desperate for a different job, yet his attitude remained steady. At one point I texted him, "I'm so sorry you have to work so hard at that stupid chicken place. I wish we were wealthy, so you didn't have to do that." To this he immediately replied, "Mom, we are wealthy in so many other ways besides money."

He is so right. Thanks for reminding me, Isaiah.

Isaiah has always been a man of few words. When he was three, we had a list on the refrigerator of all the words he knew. There were nine. Yep, nine. He was obviously intelligent and understood everything we said to him; he just didn't have much to say back. I've joked that he spoke nine words at age three, and he hasn't said a whole lot more since then. But as you can see above, when he does say something, it counts.

The classic middle child, he stays in the background mostly. Once when he was around 10, he was sick and home from school. I had mentioned this to Gerald on the phone early in the morning. At lunchtime, Gerald called and asked, "How's Isaiah feeling?" You guessed it. I had totally forgotten he was even home. Any of my other children would have made their presence known all morning long, requesting food, drink, or just some "mom sympathy" to sooth their sick bodies. Not Isaiah. I threw down the phone and rushed into his room to find him quietly reading a book.

I doubt Isaiah will read this post because I don't think he reads my blog, and that is okay. It might embarrass him if he did, and that is not my intent. But this is a record for posterity, and I want it written how proud I am of my middle kid. In May he will be half way through his undergraduate degree, earning stellar grades in rigorous computer courses while working 13-hour shifts selling chicken.

More importantly, he knows what truly matters in life. He knows what real wealth is.