I’ve been thinking a lot about boys lately—my boys. I have three of them, one taller and meatier, and two not-so-tall and on the lean side. They’re all adults now, so we talk about stuff—stuff you don’t chat about when they’re younger because all you’d get is a grunt, a groan, an eye roll, and little perspective. Now they indulge me. I like that.
Today I was talking with one, of the not-so-tall ones, who is on the lean side. He said something that I thought was worth posting (with his permission, of course).
He said, “Some people were meant to move boulders and others were meant to climb them.”
|Imagine courtesy of Sura Nualpradid/FreeDigitalPhotos.net|
That made this momma smile. Smile from my gut.
You see, for far too long, he’s felt bad about not being able to physically move boulders. I’ve observed that it’s tough being a not-so-tall, lean young man, in this world that honors height and strength. I would imagine it’s even harder when the taller, meatier males decide to demonstrate their strength using your lean body as their weights. This happens. I’ve witnessed it, not from his taller, meatier brother—he’s a gentle soul, but from others.
You stand there, as his momma, watching, as all the dudes laugh it off, but you notice—not everyone’s laughing. It’s all you can do not to march up to the big guy and stamp on his foot and yell, “Put him down. NOW! You ... YOU, BULLY!” But you don’t, because you know that would only make your son feel worse. He doesn't want his momma fighting his battles. So you watch. You wait. You pray. And you guide him into other areas to build his confidence.
And on that day, when he realizes that he was meant to climb boulders, you celebrate and cheer him on as he climbs.