Ode to the Boy

Anyone who knows us, understands that this year has been a difficult year for us. It's been good, much growth, much maturing, a tightening of our bonds as a family, but still hard! Most of that has centered around the challenges with Naomi's health. It's placed us in a position of ambiguity where we have to constantly remind ourselves that we do trust One who knows no ambiguity. With that said I wanted to celebrate someone special to us and make something clear that we haven't communicated well.

It could be possible that, with all the attention placed on Naomi, some might wonder if that little blonde boy in the pictures gets left out. Any of you who have had the pleasure of being geographically near to us know that such a reality is not a possibility. For those of you who haven't been around us much, I wanted to take some special time to celebrate our son, Caleb Samuel.

Many of you know that I wanted all girls. Not because I don't think boys are awesome, but because I was scared to be a father to a son, scared of my own insecurities, and frightened of my own inadequacies. I knew the strength of love and affections I held for my daughter, but feared that I would not know how to be the same for a son. My father and I had a horrible relationship growing up, it's gotten really good as I've gotten older, but I know that I'm capable of the same things my father was and feared to pass it on to another son of another generation. I fought that fear and laid it before the cross and begged for help, but still was unsure and afraid that I would fail this little life that popped out onto the back seat of my van on September 14, 2007.

The events of his birth endeared him to my immature, adventure-seeking, having a good story to tell persona, but the insecurities were still there. I had said with Naomi that children have an uncanny ability to root out your deepest insecurities, baggage, and issues and toss them out on display for the whole world. You can either hide from it or deal with it. With Caleb there was already so much bound up in me to be tugged at, and it didn't help that he came out looking like the mailman's kid. Thank Jesus I was a mailman at the time :). His first few weeks he was so much more difficult and couldn't keep food down. He vomited after every meal and left Shannon and I crying and exhausted, worried about his growth. He seemed clingy to Shannon (like most kids are to their moms) and I felt like he wanted nothing to do with me, which I recognized as a manifestation of my own baggage rather than any reality in the mind of an infant. In the midst of exhaustion, frustration, and worry it seemed like I was pressed with many excuses and reasons to reject him, to refuse to love, or to love with less intensity than I knew I was capable of. Every bit of selfishness was pressed with seemingly reasonable options for holding back, withdrawing, and writing off.

There have been many times in my life that I've known I was capable of horrible things, but since I've started to try to walk with Jesus, I've seen the reality and possibilities of what I'm capable of, are no match for abandonment to, and trust in, the One who is molding me into someone capable of love, especially love for others. I know what could have been, what hardness could have done to the bonds that I longed for with my son and now have realized. That would have been a different blog. As it stands, by grace, I set out to win my son's love. To pour out my heart for him and let it overflow even if I risked another bout with rejection.

When I began to stay home with the kids, Caleb was just about a year and a half old. It was a challenge with the two of them, much harder than when I had stayed at home with only Naomi during school. I began to notice the fears fading, loyalties arising, love strengthening. I knew I wanted a bond with my son that was healthy, strong, and affectionate. I recognized that I truly believed this only happened in movies, but at the end of the day it must be a reality that God longs for in all humanity. If we were meant to bare His image, and He is One who displays unconditional love for His Son, then could it be possible that He can enable us to represent His image by bearing that out?

As time went on, I began to see so much of myself in Caleb. Though we look nothing a like, our personalities are so similar. He is such an emotional being, fiery and passionate, but lacking self-control. I think that exact line was written on my Kindergarten report card. He is sensitive and caring, yet simultaneously guarded and defensive. I feel like I have such insight into how to love him because I understand how he wants to be loved. I understand what his fears are and why he gets confused. I understand what needs to be said even if it is not always what I want to say.

The hardest thing is recognizing how much he watches me, how he always sees what I am doing. He sees me as an example, but does he know how much I DON'T have it together? There's part of me that wants to try to "pull it together" to be an example, but more often I've simply sat down and shared with him how I struggle, then watch his 2 year old mind spin, relate it to a movie he likes, and compare it with how he doesn't want to stop punching people.

There is so much to this kid, more than words could write. As his 29 year old father, I rejoice sometimes when I look at him and see a 2 year old that is often more content in his identity than I am in mine. I thank God that I've had a role in that and pray that it remains so through elementary school, puberty, and the discovery of girls. Not that who he is is perfect, but that he knows where he is at in such a remarkable way.

Perhaps the best way to finish this celebration is to share a story and a picture or two. Caleb is sensitive and sweet, but he is also a warrior. It's a good thing and a bad thing, but in this case, a freaking adorable thing. He received a boppin bag for Christmas. He was not overly impressed, it was a piece of plastic in a box the size of a deck of cards. It took me about 45 minutes to get it blown up correctly (I didn't know you needed a water or sand base and couldn't figure out why it wouldn't stand up). He still wasn't overly impressed but came at my begging. I told him to punch it, and he did nonchalantly. As the bag rose up to meet him . . . here is what followed . . .