Tattoo Boy

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I am traveling today. Leaving on a jet plane. So I give you one of my already published posts: The Arm, The Tattoo.

This is a picture of the arm of our youngest son. This is the arm I brought into the world 18 years ago, along with the rest of his body. The arm looks pretty much the same as it did those many years gone by, except a little bigger and with a lot more hair. Oh how the years fly by.

Luke, the owner of the arm, started talking about getting a tattoo a few years ago. He was under age at the time and we both knew it wasn’t going to happen on my watch, but we both knew too that the day was coming.

The day is here.

Several weeks ago we had a conversation, Luke and I. I’m not sure how the topic was introduced but he pretty much let me know he was getting a tattoo when he turned 18.

As an aside, Luke is a musician. He plays a lot of instruments well. He plays the bass guitar like nobody’s business. In fact, he has taken lessons for about nine years now. He is said to be one of the best in the city, with the ability to play with any band who comes to town. He should be, I must add, we’ve forked over enough money so that he could have lessons by another adept bass player. Am I bragging on my kid? Yeah, just a little. I don’t do it often. Hey, it’s my blog and I can brag if I want to.

So our conversation went a little something like this:

Me: So what’s this tattoo going to look like, I love Mom (I asked as I grinned and shook my head up and down)?

Luke: No, it’s going to be a bass cleft and say Peter Fornay inked in the center.

Me: (Thinking this must be a famous bass player) I think I’ve heard of him. What band is he with?

Luke: (Shaking head) What are you talking about? I’m having 1 Peter 4:10 put on the bass cleft.

Me: (Dang, I was wondering why he was paying eternal homage on his arm to some dude who may some day be just another has-been musician.) Well that sounds like a really nice tattoo. What does 1 Peter 4:10 say?

Luke: Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.

Luke and I seem to have a lot of conversations such as this and I’m okay with that.

I took the before-marred pic of the arm on Friday. Luke had plans to go to a University of Kentucky football game Saturday, and the marking of the arm was to occur after the game. I knew we would be at church when Luke arrived home from Lexington, before the ink event took place, so I left a message on the chalkboard that hangs in the kitchen.

On Friday night as I was taking the pic before the marking, marring, inking of the arm took place, I was telling Jacob (our oldest son) and Josh (a friend of theirs) about Peter Fornay. Jacob didn’t even know his little brother was getting a tattoo. Made me feel a little better. I’m just the mom, always the last to know. Well not this time.

Luke arrived home with a bandage on his arm Saturday night. We had to wait awhile before the unveiling to see this art-form that will grace my son’s arm for the rest of his days. It was nicely done. I made a really big deal out of it but that’s what I do. It was to be expected, just ask any of my people.

It’s just a tattoo. Everybody has at least one. No big thing.

The arm. The tattoo. My son.