The Bend in the Road

Today my son walked across the stage and was handed a diploma.  My two oldest children are now college graduates.  Two kids, two diplomas, two millstones of loan debt, and two bright futures. 

My thoughts can’t help but wind backwards to his childhood.  He was born trouble.  I mean that in the most endearing way.  From the time he could move independently and speak, he was looking for mischief.  I’m a bit of a rapscallion myself, so he’s the kid I totally get.  My first clue that he was destined for shenanigans was at a wedding when he was just eight months old.  The minister shook my hand at the end of the ceremony, took one look at Ryan and declared, “This one’s trouble.” 

In his third year of life, his true personality began to unfold.  He decided in the spring of that year that he wanted to wear his winter boots every single day.  I thought when the weather turned warm he would give up his little quirky eccentricity.  Before I knew it, he was getting up on warm summer mornings and throwing on his favorite ensemble.  I have pictures of him at the lake in shorts and snow boots.  He was the original Napoleon Dynamite. 

The prophetic edict from the minister came to fruition in that same year.  He came to me one day with big brown eyes and blonde curls and innocently asked me to teach him to tie a knot in a string.   I should have seen red flags popping up all over the place.  Fool that I am, I granted his request. 

A couple days later I learned why he wanted to learn such an important skill.  It wasn't because he had aspirations of becoming a Boy Scout.  I was standing in the house with the window open when I heard my oldest son crash his tricycle in the driveway.  Then I heard the delighted laughter of a certain blonde three-year-old.  I ran outside and there lay poor Trevor in a weeping pile on the pavement, his trike upended nearby.  As I investigated the crime scene, I found a rope tied between the bumper of the car and the porch, and a grinning preschooler in winter boots and shorts.  My three-year-old had sabotaged his brother and was incredibly proud of himself.

I gave him a good scolding (and shook my head in disbelief). I had visions of him becoming McCauley Caulkin in The Good Son.  A couple of days later I walked into the bedroom Ryan shared with Trevor.  He was struggling with a full bucket of water.  “Mom, can you help me?”  Sure, Honey.  What are you doing?  “I want to put this on top of the door?”  And why???  With zero shame he matter-of-factly replied, “So when Trevor comes in he’ll get wet.”  He’s THREE!  Where is he getting this stuff and why does he think it’s funny?

That same year he developed a drinking problem.  In Vermont, where we lived at the time, you could redeem glass bottles for a dime.  Our local grocery store kept large boxes by the front doors for recyclable bottles and cans.  As I was paying for my purchases one day, I suddenly realized Ryan was missing, but quickly spotted him.  He was standing by the returns boxes with a beer bottle to his lips, draining the last drops from somebody’s returned bottle.  I thought my lecture about the evils of germs settled the issue, but a couple of weeks later he informed me that he liked beer.  “No you don’t!” I said dismissively.  “Yes I do.  I yike (like) beer!”  Lord, help me…..

I’d like to say he outgrew that little phase.  I’d LIKE to say that.  Can’t do it.  The truth is, he has been an adventure every single day of his life.  He never heard of a prank he didn't think was funny, and never met a dare he could resist.  I’m pretty sure his Guardian Angel detail has had a high turnover rate since the day he was born (Sir, I’d like to request a transfer. Someone calm and safe, like a paratrooper or bungee jumper.  Maybe even a Ninja.  Just please don’t make me spend another day with the Dahl kid.  My celestial nerves are shot!).

He finally hit the life-is-a-joke-wall when he pulled a college prank that landed him in county jail for a night.  Nobody was laughing THAT night. 

Let me be quick to add that he also has become a man of strength and character that makes me incredible proud and touches that spot deep in my heart that only a mother possesses.  My grandmother (his great-grandmother) lives in the same town as the college he attended.  Before he left for his freshman year of school, I merely asked him to occasionally pay her a visit.  She lived by herself, and was lonely I knew.  I really didn’t expect him to give it much effort.  There are, after all, friends to hang out with, good times to be had, and last but not least, a little studying thrown in once in a while.  What red-blooded 18-year-old male wants to spend a weekend afternoon discussing health issues with an elderly woman?  Turns out, Ryan did.  I’m not saying he necessarily enjoyed it, at least not at first.  But as his college years wore on, there developed a deep affection between the two of them that evolved into genuine friendship.  In conversation with me, he began to refer to her as, “My girl.”  When her health began to deteriorate he fretted to me about leaving her alone in her house.  Bottom line…. he cared.  He routinely chose to forsake the easy road for the more difficult one that required a little self-sacrifice.  Somewhere in those four years, he morphed from child to man.

So as he began to make post-graduation plans and started the rigorous process of applying to dental schools, I really didn’t worry about his future success at striking out on his own.  He had excelled in school, had pulled together a wide circle of lifetime friends, and had shown amazingly mature actions in how he looked after his great-grandmother.  He was ready to hit the road running.  I felt confidence in the direction he is heading.

But today, as the convocation ceremony began, a member of the board of trustees, who also had a child graduating, walked to the podium to pray the invocation.  The first words of his prayer were, “Lord, I’ve asked you this many times, and I’m going to ask it again.  Please take care of my little girl.”  Almost audibly, I heard the echo of the thousand parents sitting around me as I caught my breath.  My heartbeat sat suspended for a moment as the import of those simple words sank into my consciousness.  His little girl and my little boy and all the other graduates sitting in that enormous room, while technically considered grown adults, are still children.  Our sons and daughters.  Our little boys and girls. 

Every parent in that beautiful chapel could tell their own stories about funny incidents, and trips to the emergency room, and endearing moments seared into memory.  We love our children more than life itself.   Now we are getting ready to launch them into an Unknown that is exciting and frightening simultaneously.  Age and experience tell us that along with the joys of being independent and solely responsible for their choices, there WILL be disappointment, heartbreak, and struggle.  Sorrow will find them eventually.  Nobody escapes the hard stuff of life forever.  The currents of life will tumble them around in the tides and eddies of job, relationships, and finances.

We that gave them life know these things.  But we also know that those same difficult circumstances will also refine their character, and soften rough edges.  Our children will emerge from their trials and disappointments both stronger and softer at the same time. They will take their place in this world as responsible citizens, spouses, and parents.

“So Lord, I ask that you take care of my little boy.  That little irrepressible stinker that makes me laugh and lights a fire of joy in my heart.  Go with him as he begins a new chapter in life.  Protect him, yes, but also allow those things into his path that will make him a better man, and cause him to become a ‘mighty oak of righteousness.’  I entrust him into your care. You created him and you have a plan for his life.  Let him fulfill that plan however you see fit.”

Life would be easier if it was always a straight stretch with no surprises and we could anticipate every event.  But really, what fun would that be?  The bend in the road leaves us guessing and wondering what the future holds.  A much more intriguing way to live, if you ask me.

Thank you, Ryan, for making me proud.  Not so much for what you have accomplished, but more for who you have become. 

I know your heart and I know your dreams.  You want to succeed in life. 

I think you already have.