I knew this day would come…

When my oldest son, Jackson, was diagnosed with a brain hemorrhage as an infant, things looked pretty bleak. It was never a life or death situation, simply a quality of life issue. Would he walk, talk, play at the park, etc. Statistics were thrown at us like parking tickets – random and sentencing. But, as most of you already know, his story ends well. Jackson – after a year of heavy doses of drama, therapy and eyelids – healed, blemish-free.

He’s five now, and just as miraculous as his “head heal” is the fact that he has never really been sick since. A few sniffles, sure. A couple of scrapes here and there, yes. But a missed game/birthday party/day of school for being sick? Never.

I’ve always told him that he has Superhero Healing Powers. Because, really, that’s the only explanation. But as I cleaned up the pork chops and broccoli my youngest, Benji, had just thrown up all over me last night, I couldn’t help but notice Jackson’s pink cheeks.

Could some kryptonite have snuck into this room and robbed him of his powers? It sounds ridiculous, but how else could I explain this fever?

So Jackson is home sick (and completely deflated) with the flu today - his confidence in his powers is waning fast. But not mine. Because that magic halo protecting him from evil – the inexplicable force that redirected his destiny as a baby– will always be there. This kid is destined for greatness, I do believe.

And perhaps this fever is simply a sign that he needs to rest up for whatever lay ahead.

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