By Michael Monroe
I can vividly remember the moment that I saw my oldest son for the first time. I’m not talking about the day I first laid eyes on him when he was only 18 days old, or the next day when we brought him home, changing our lives forever. I’m talking instead about that cool November afternoon, nearly two years from the day we first met, when I began to look beyond all of my assumptions and even hopes and dreams concerning my son, and caught my first glimpse of the “real” him. That was the first time I believe I truly met my son, as I started to let go of who I thought he was and would become and began to fully embrace the adventure of discovering who God had uniquely made him to be.