Pre-Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is still a day or so away. I'm trying to forget the fact that it is past midnight and thus Wednesday morning, because my brain still thinks it's Tuesday. I'm having difficulty figuring out a problem, and it's become more and more stressful over the past couple of weeks because the problem just won't go away, and it isn't one of those problems that can be dealt with by any direct action on my part, not really. I mean, there are things I can do to plan, to prepare to deal with it when it finally comes to a head - if it ever comes to a head - but even the best-laid plans of mice and men come to naught at day's end. Or something like that.

But I don't want to get into that right now. I'd rather talk about James's birthday.

Were you to ask James if he had a fun birthday, he might admit that there were some fun things that occurred. Certainly it was fun to make dinner for us all, which he did, and he did a fantastic job with the Chicken Bearnaise. I believe he had fun at Youth Group later in the evening, bringing along some delicious brownies to share with his friends. And he didn't seem overly depressed by the dearth of presents he received as we gathered around his birthday cake near the end of the day. (Teenaged boys can never really be satisfied with the presents they receive for their birthday, because no present in the world can measure up to the imagination and desire of a young boy on the cusp of adulthood.)

But there is a very deep significance in the fact that his birthday is so closely aligned with Thanksgiving. We are thankful that he survived his birth to live these many years with us, and to become such a blessing to us, because it was the very day of his birth which brought us closest to realizing how fragile life can be. His survival was not guaranteed by any means, and I still consider it a miracle that he lives and breathes and plays guitar and annoys his sister (he claims it's the other way around) and enjoys the company of many friends, because I saw his body when it was gray and seemingly lifeless, and stood beside the oxygen crib as they forced life back into it, and knew that it was possible that he might not make it.

Now fifteen years later, he smiles and looks out on the world and wonders what it has to offer him, and I think back to the days when I was just as young and just as eager to go out and see what was going on in the big, wide world, and envy him. And I try not to impose my point of view on him (too much) although all of you who are parents know exactly how hard it is not to want to scream out loud all the wisdom and knowledge and advice you think they need so they don't make the same mistakes you did, or miss out on the opportunities that you still kick yourself for missing out on.

And I think about how few are the years he will remain at our house, how soon he will be off on his own, and I wonder if he's been given enough examples to know how to live, if the lessons we've tried to bring to him have made it through to his heart, if he has any clue to the depth of the love we have for him ... and then I am reminded of my own father, and how utterly mysterious the man was to me for most of my teen years, how close we could be one moment, and utterly distant the other; and how incredibly shocking it was to be hugged by him on the day I left for college. And how I promised myself that I would never become so distant from my children that a simple hug could feel so odd and foreign, even in a family that never hugged.

But the reality is that at some point we stop forcing displays of affection on our children because we can sense their discomfort; we suddenly realize that they have become aware of their own personal space, and the boundary excludes even those who would give their very lives for them; it's just a thing that teenagers must navigate through until they decide what they will deem appropriate. And the best you can hope for is to someday be invited once again into the warm embrace of your cherished offspring, after they have finally figured out that you are just another traveller on the road to Heaven, charged by God with giving them the best years of your life so that they can repeat the whole process on another generation.