Saturday, June 28, 2008
Rite of Passage
The recent weeks have been ones in which I look at my sons and wonder at the passing of time. When did they grow up? How did they get this big? When did Isaac decide he really wants to take up bow hunting? They don't look back for reassurance anymore; they look over their shoulders to see if I'm watching them be so successful without me. How is it that Asa can fully concentrate on relating the more exciting portions of "Spaceballs" to his new friend while he's nonchalantly acing his field tests in gun safety training? The boy could care less if he never shoots anything more than a dragonfly with a slingshot! All in one breath they say things like, "Let me clear your plate for you, Mom," with a shy boyish grin, and "Way to go, Idiot," to a brother over their shoulder. When did my youngest, Leif, decide that he can climb into a 10-foot tall deer stand and paddle a kayak all by himself even though he's been afraid of heights and water since babyhood? I don't know when all this started. But it's happening whether I'm ready for it or not. My kids are growing up. They all completed their gun safety training with very high scores. Leif even won a prize for "Best Homemade Survival Kit." Asa got the second highest score in the class. And Isaac taught me that you can hold a gun against the "other" shoulder if that's what it takes to see out of your "good eye." They zip through the water in their kayaks and they have found swimming spots and adventure far from our spot of shore. They go fishing and bring home dinner. They mow the lawn and do the laundry. They help usher, take offering, and light candles at church. They are young men. Goofy, mischievous, misbehaving young men. But young men just the same.