Sleepovers

After a night of Minecraft on Xbox, basketball in the basement, and two episodes of Duck Dynasty, Ezra and Owen were finally tucked into bed.  It was Ezra's third official sleepover...and he was making the most of it.

I figured the buzz from Ezra's room would eventually subside.  But the chatter only seemed to intensify as the boys took turns sharing sweeping stories of their seven years of experiences.

Ezra told of his new Red Ryder BB gun and how his first shot had found the bulls-eye.  Owen shared his own story of BB gun mastery...and how he looked forward to growing strong enough to pull back his newly inherited compound bow...and then, how he might deer hunt next year.  

Eavesdropping from the living room, I was surprised how neither boy seemed to pause between stories.  It was as if they had been storing them up for this very moment and couldn't wait to be the next one to share.

After twice visiting the boys with gentle reminders to wrap it up, it became evident that stronger influence might become necessary.  But as I gathered myself for another visit, my memory began to summon my own history of sleepovers...

Many late nights were spent at the bottom of 6th Street hill, watching and re-watching Red Dawn or Nightmare on Elm Street on LaserDisc with Cam Hybels...or at French's listening to Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet, riding the three wheeler through the dark corn fields, or playing Tecmo Bowl and eating huge amounts of Cookies and Cream ice cream.  We'd get so tired, talking long into the night, that our words often became a mishmashed medley in the strange twilight between sleep and wake.

As memory flooded my mind, I began to realize that this is how it happens...  This is the beginning for Ezra and Owen.  This is how two boys begin to realize they have their own thoughts and stories...and relationships.  This is how a boy becomes a human being with their own life. 

And surprisingly, the chatter began to sound less like two little boys trying to stay up late...and more like like two human beings...growing into themselves.

I settled back into my chair, put my feet up, and listened to the sound of two little boys on a sleepover...living their histories. 

Ordinary

It is an ordinary summer evening.  I'm working on a project inside.  For once...the house is peaceful.  Through the kitchen window, I see Ezra and some neighborhood kids jumping on the trampoline. Their sounds of play cascade through the sliding glass door.  They sound like the morning birds, calling forth the dawn light.  The sound pleases me.

Just then, Ethan steps through the slider, off our newly built deck.  I had not known where he was.

"Dad, I've been sitting on the deck for a LOOOONG time."

He pauses, apparently lost in thought.  Then he looks me square in the eye.

"How can such an ordinary man, build such a great deck?"

Ordinary indeed...

She's the One

She's the one who sings you, "Christopher Robin and I walked along..." every time you ask.

She's the one you snuggle with on the couch and call "mama polar bear" because of her white cozy robe.

She's the one who shows up every week with bags of groceries, wondering if someone might be willing to help her...but puts them away by herself even if no one shows up.

She's the one who paws through hundreds of pages of schoolwork and handouts and schedules to make sure you study and learn and show up on time.

She's the one who somehow finds a way to incorporate vegetables into every meal, but compromises when you don't want to eat all of them.

She's the one who plans everything and takes you to Jungle Joe's and Bounceland so you can feel special your birthday.

She's the one who came up with family dance parties.

She's the one who brings you to practice and attends all your games (even when it's cold, wet, and windy) and cheers extra loud for you no matter how good or bad you play.

She's the one who makes you stop and look at beautiful things like Pileated woodpeckers and swan babies.



She's the one who takes you roller skating, downhill skiing, and sledding.

She's the one who lets you ride on her water skis, even though it hurts, so you won't be afraid to try it on your own.

She's the one who thinks it's ok for you to have an extra privilege once in a while.

She's the one who continually wipes up pee from every crevice in the toilet so the bathroom doesn't perpetually reek.

She's the one you run to when you get hurt.

She's the one who makes food for our neighbors, and takes you with her to pass them out so you'll know how love your own neighbor one day.

She's the one who came up with worship walks.

She's the one who tells you how handsome you are (and believes it) even when you have lost your two front teeth and look really funny.

She's the one who goes without praise, acknowledgment, or even thanks even when she really, really, deserves it.

She's the one who cries, hopes, fights, and prays for you, and wonders at the unbelievable mystery that you are.

She's the one who writes letters to you and saves them in a folder so you can read them when you grow up and know how much she loved you all the days and months and years of your life.

She's the one who gladly chooses to die to herself...everyday...for you.

Just in case you forget...she's the one.