So The Boy Ran

Earlier this fall, the boy joined the cross country team.  He was at a new school, in a new town, without a single new friend to call his own.  He needed something to pour his energy into.  So the boy ran.

Of the three of them, he's struggling the most.  Lately he has reminded me of that old nursery rhyme:

There was a little girl

Who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead

And when she was good she was very, very good

But when she was bad she was horrid!

That rhyme should have said "teenage girl".  Or maybe three year olds and thirteen year olds have something in common.  An irrational self-centering that cannot be brushed aside because it is their reality for that moment.  And for my boy, can I blame him?  He's endured so much these last few years.  He's endured it with more grace than his years should have allowed.

Maybe, in moving him, I provided the straw and the camel collapsed.  Yet he's still Chris.  The kid who helps without being asked.  The responsible kid who won't play until his homework is done.  The kid who recently bought a video game with his hard saved money just because he knew his sisters would like it.  When he's good, he's very, very good.

But occasionally, the heart cracks and the emotion that was being dammed up spills out into angry words that can't be taken back.

In those moments, my mama heart cracks open with his and I feel lost in the parenting waters.  I can't see the stars and my compass is broken.  And I wonder if we'll survive the battle.  

In those moments, my heart breaks for my boy, for I fear I have wounded him.  My mother worry takes over.  All of the what ifs and did I screw up and where did I go wrong and other failure speak.  We all do it. We mothers.  We let worry and anxiety consume us.  We shouldn't.  But can you blame us?  We have been entrusted with human lives to make or break.  

In those moments, I go to leather worn Word and I wonder if that last line is wrong.  Can I really make or break him if Another is molding him?  Perhaps what we've really been entrusted with is a human life to hold and to let go.  Our greatest job is to love them into the going.  

He's not lost.  He's just hurting.  And I will love him through the hurt.  Through the harsh words that I know deep down he doesn't mean.  Through the battles.  And I will love him to the Lamp at his feet.

And he will run.  He has spent the fall running off his anger.  Running off his frustration.  Without meaning to, he even ran into a potential friend or two.  He found a coach who saw that he needed to run.  The coach motivated him and pushed him.  He ran hard.  Everyday of every week for three months.  He felt the pain of it every night in his knees and his feet.  Some nights he went to bed with four ice packs strapped to his legs. Yet, he kept running.  Woke up wanting to run.  He got faster with each race.  In the end, he finished with a strong season that left him wanting more.  So he will run all winter and run all spring until the season begins again next summer.  He will run because he needs to.  He will run because he needs to be a part of the team. He needs the heart patching community of it all.  

 And I will let him run.  Loving him through the pavement pounding push of each step.