A Remarkable Age

Lucas turned nine on February 8. It took us a few days but we finally had a party for him, with a scavenger hunt, pizzas, prizes, and lots of boy fun.

He’s my son. The one who catches the emotional vibe in any room anytime. The one who will realize late in the morning that he didn’t ask me how I slept and he’ll suddenly say: “How did you sleep mom, I forgot to ask you. Sorry about that.” He is always kind, thoughtful, and very excited about anything to do with The Lord of the Rings.

Two years ago we decided to move to Chile – my husband’s homeland. Our reasons were multiple and varied and ever since we made that life altering decision, our lives have been startlingly different. They’ve been incredibly stressful and nomadic, and filled with lots of ups and downs.

I have pushed my children and asked them to bear up under hard circumstances – situations that make my heart beat faster and my eyes well up with tears if I think too much about them. They’ve borne it all with a courage and grace that stuns and humbles me. We have some tears now and then, but for the most part there’s joy and confidence, and an ability to adjust to their surroundings that I find quite noteworthy.

At Lucas’s party, I watched as the boys trekked around the land solving my badly written clues and I adored listening to Lucas lead them in his new language that he flows in a out of with unruffled ease. He roams our thirty acres, picks blackberries, shoots his arrow, swims, plays soccer, and still sleep with his prized blanket and his five favorite stuffed animals.

He is at that sacred interim between little boy and big boy – where he sees both worlds and is beginning to cross over from one into the other, and yet, still lavishes in the joy of being little.

He and my dad went on a drive the other day and got completely lost high in the back hills of Temuco. At the top of the rolling mountains, Lucas gazed out and in complete seriousness told my dad there could be dwarves living underneath them. His hero is Legolas, but he has lots of admiration for the dwarves. Gimli Gloin and Balin are very important to him.

I realize as my children grow older, my son becomes more and more a mystery to me. I understand him as my son, but he is boy and will one day be a man and these last few days I felt that shift, the slow turning that reveals while we are similar, we are also different.

I used to hope for lots of things for my children but this long season of change and transition has sifted things down for me. The superfluous and extraneous are more evident than they were before and I see with greater insight the areas I would like my children to be strong in. I want my children to be courageous, to be kind and thoughtful, to see the hurting pass by and notice them, I want my kids to be resilient and assertive. And I want them to feel safe and secure in their parents’ love, and in our belief that they can go forward despite hardship.

Unfortunately, most of these characteristics must be modeled in order to be learned. And so it falls to me and my husband and to the other adults in their lives to be consistent examples, to show with our lives what courage and resilience looks like, what it means to press into hard circumstances instead of running from them, and if I want my kids to notice the hurting, it would behoove me to notice them myself and not pass by on the other side, but rather stop and do what I can.

Character does not appear out of nowhere, it’s something we cultivate and grow inside of us over time. When we go through difficult and trying seasons, this is when we have the greatest opportunity for growth. It’s on the other side of that particular season that we will see the fruit – the patience, the kindness, the ability to see and feel other people’s pain in new and startling ways, the resilience and fortitude we long for, the self-control that has always alluded us is somehow there now, and of course there’s the hope that doesn’t disappoint, because it’s hope birthed and bred in the midst of trial.

As Rodrigo starts roofing our new home this evening, and as my dad finishes the structural part of the house these last days of his visit and as we hire our electrician and plumber and someone to put up the siding … I see with my eyes that I am coming to the other side. The days of being nomadic and being a lonely pilgrim are coming to an end. For me and for my children. What we have hoped for is made manifest before me …and it is wondrous indeed.

Tell me about a time when you made it through a long season of something and saw yourself transformed through the process. I’d love to hear.

Much Love,

Tina