Closing the Chapter on Middle School ~ Benedict's Graduation & A Surprise Trip to Kansas City for a Royals Game

In every mother's heart, there is a book filled with the chapters of her children's lives.  And when she looks at her children she sees every page of their lives from beginning to the present.  Their faces are a portrait of memories from infancy and outgrowing training wheels to the first day of school and beyond.  This is a great and wonderful mystery of the mothering heart, how she is able to hold everyone and every memory so close, and how no one knows what it all means but her.

When I look at my fourteen year old boy, I can see his sweet littleness and brave bigness all at once. In an effort to cling to the goodness of the past and the beauty of the present moment, I feel my heart struggling to push back the anxiety and fear that comes with knowing our first baby has arrived at the doorstep of high school.  

The chapter on Benedict's middle school years has come to an end, and celebrating this wonderful milestone with him has been a true joy for us.  During the graduation Mass and presentation of awards, I couldn't resist glancing over at Steve, communicating the depths of my feelings to him with a look that said, "Look at our baby! He's so big! Aren't you proud?? Is your heart bursting, because mine is bursting?!!!"

I think he thought I had a glob of mascara in my eyes, because he definitely wasn't feeling the emotional vibes I was shooting like a missile across the pew. Mind reading is not really man's gift.

To be honest, I feel like Ben's middle school years were pretty mellow.  I'm definitely not complaining about that, it's just that I think I had prepared myself for things to be much more difficult. I certainly don't want to graft my life experiences on to my children, but since my memories of middle school aren't exactly filled with merriment, I couldn't help but brace myself for the worst. I haaaaaated middle school.  Whenever I stroll down memory lane my brain takes a serious short cut through the back alley of those years.

Maybe it's just a boy thing.  Maybe the challenges that come with being a middle school teen just don't bother boys the way that they bother girls.  Or, maybe boys simply don't find flailing on the bed in a sea of tears very therapeutic. Or, maybe the ups and downs that Ben experienced over the past couple of years were, to him, easy to handle because he knew he had a great support system here at home (I hope he felt that, I really do).

I will say that I am terribly grateful for the boys in Ben's class.  I know for a fact that they made his transition from homeschool to private school a smooth one. Those boys have been together since pre-school, and yet they welcomed Ben into their tight-knit fraternity with open arms.  He must have told us dozens of times how grateful he was to be a part of such an awesome group of guys.

I had the opportunity to get to know Benedict's classmates a little better while coaching track this spring, and I really do have a special place in my heart for each one of them.  They come from terrific families, and they are going to accomplish great things in high school and beyond.

On the last day of school the eighth grade boys and girls scrimmaged the parents and coaches in a game of basketball.  Steve and I had a blast embarrassing Benedict with air balls and double dribbles.

After the scrimmage, all of the eighth graders were subjected to the torture of an ice-cold dunk tank. When it was my turn to aim for the target, I gave Ben the option of professing his unwavering love and devotion for me in front of the class in exchange for mercy.  He immediately declined, so I did the right thing and dunked him reeeel good.

On the drive home, Benedict turned to me and said, "Mom, when Joseph is in 8th grade, I will have already graduated from college.  I may even be married and have a family of my own. I am going to come back for his scrimmage, the dunk tank and graduation."

GULP. That was a "Jesus take the wheel" moment.  

Wow.  There's some perspective for ya.  Maybe by then I'll be used to closing this chapter on our boys' lives. Maybe I'll even have a handle on my tears.

Maybe not.

A few more photos and tales from graduation day...

 We surprised Ben on the last day of school with a candy card (another brilliant idea from Pinterest).

 Hello, dental bills.

I love watching the boys getting spiffy together. Henry missed the memo on dress socks.

 90% of our photos look like this.

 The other 10%. 

Joseph is M.I.A. He felt it was the perfect time to sleep of the carb load of Cheerios and peach puffs from afternoon snack time.

 My parents were happy to come and share their love and support for Benedict.

Benedict with Grandpa Bob. Steve's mom was in Rome, but was definitely with us in spirit!

Each of the 8th grade students put together a scrapbook of their elementary and middle school years.

The books were put out on the tables at the reception for family and friends to enjoy.  Benedict really dreaded this project, because he couldn't see the purpose in it.  I encouraged him to consider it to be a portrait of his life so far - a tangible display of the gifts and opportunities that God has given him, which can be a way of discerning God's will for his future.  When it was finally complete, I think he was surprised to see his story unfold, and what a beautiful and blessed story it truly is.  

 The parents of one of Ben's classmates put together a slide show featuring photos of each of the graduates.  I loved watching all of the kids' faces during the show.  I could see that they each felt really loved by their family and friends and also very proud of their school and all of their personal accomplishments.

Six cups of sugar and Red Dye #40 later, Henry decides he'll be ready for sleep sometime next week.

 Josie and Joseph, class of 2028!!

 Benedict's graduation gift was a surprise trip to Kansas City to watch the Royals play the St. Louis Cardinals.  We sat right long third base line about 10 rows up from the Cardinal's dugout.

 Even though the game was rained out in the 6th inning, we still had a really great time!

I find that these times of celebration pass all too quickly, and soon we are back in our work shoes, marching through the ordinary days of life.  I am, though, equally thankful for those ordinary days, because I know that no matter what we are called to do with the time we are given, to be able to work and live and laugh and cry together as a family really is the sweetest time, and it is not to be overlooked or dismissed because our sights are set on times and opportunities that we hope will be easier, more pleasing or more enjoyable...times and opportunities that require less of us in the way of virtue and devotion.  These ordinary days, in which we forge ahead, are shaping our sons into men, and I count every single one that I get to spend with them, before they leave our home, as precious, precious gift.

To all the "Average" Kids Out There: You May Not Know It, But You Could Be the Best Big Toe Ever

Tomorrow night my son, Benedict, will be graduating from middle school.  Insert sobbing here.  

{Sorry, still sobbing.}

I'm not going to go with the typical laments like, "Where did the time go?" or "Why did he have to grow up so fast?," because those questions torture my brain.  They have no answers.  However, if I should find the answers after blowing through a box of tissues and consuming bottle of wine, I'll be sure to come back and edit this post. 

One of the year-end projects Benedict was required to complete before graduating was a scrapbook of his life, primarily of his school days, from preschool through eighth grade. (Do you want to see a few glimpses from the early years?? Of course you do...)

{Left: Drooling on the Sears Portrait Studio bear, circa 2001.

Right: I'm smiling 'cause there's a wedgie under these Wranglers, throwback to 2005.}

Back to the scrapbook... I must confess, my boys are not crafters. Boys in general don't typically spend their free time browsing Hobby Lobby for coordinating paper and stickers because they prefer to spend their precious free time capturing the epic moments of their middle school years (do they??). So, my boy, he be needin' some serious help with this project.  I'm no helicopter mom, but sometimes certain situations in life call for some hovering.

Anyway, like the professional procrastinator that I am, I was "helping" him cut and paste the last few pictures into the book, while he wolfed down breakfast, the morning the scrapbook was due.

 Let me just tell you what scrappin' it up at 6 a.m. does for mother-son bonding: Not a damn thing. 

I blame the last minute cut and paste panic on the thief who stole my laptop a few weeks ago, the laptop which contained a grande file of photos that I had been collecting for the project since last fall. That whole situation temporarily deflated my carpe scrapbook enthusiasm, but whatever Mr. McThief. Karma (or all the saints I've been prayin' to for your conversion's) gon gitcha.  

Moving on....

During the hourrrrrzzz, that I spent with Benedict sorting through endless pre-pimple photos and trying to come up with clever captions to summarize each magic moment, I realized something unexpected.  Every glossy photo-filled page he created tells the story of the life of a boy who the world will probably always categorize as average, but who is oh, so very far from just that.

While we were working together, once in a while I would catch a disappointed expression on Ben's face.  It was an expression that made me wonder if Ben agrees with the world's estimations of him. 

The lack of photos filled with trophies, ribbons, and perfect scores can understandably make a young man wonder why his mother would ever be content to just capture his infectious smile, his strong arms reaching out to hold a sibling, his honoring heart working beside his father all day long in the heat of the summer until the job was done.  

Those are the best things that a mother sees through her lens.  Things the world won't see, but things she'll spend her life trying to convince her son are the most valuable of all.

More than anything in this world, I think that Ben would truly love to be a stellar athlete. I watch in admiration at all of the effort and hard work he puts into every sport he plays.  I just wish I could have gifted him with even a few supreme athletic genes.  I mean, I pretty much knew in elementary school, while all the other girls were doing back handsprings across the playground, and I was just trying to avoid getting chucked with dodge balls by the boys, that I was never going to be any sort of sporty phenomenon. 

Now my husband, on the other hand, is the exact opposite.  He contributes about 90% of every family gene associated with visually appealing coordination, strength and grace.  He's pretty much the total skillz package. Thank the Lord for him, thank. the. Lord.

But, you are young, I say to Benedict. Don't give up! Some of the best athletes started out being far from the best, or great, or even good.  Talent sometimes takes time to develop.  Keep practicing! Your father and I believe in you!.... 

He nods, always nods affirmative, eyes drifting down toward the ground far away from my words, and I know that he cannot find, in his teenage will, the strength to trust what I have said.

I recognize, in our oldest son, that he doesn't need for us to sign him up for more summer camps or music lessons or private tutoring.  He doesn't really even need more encouragement. He just needs a different kind of it.  The real-life unsugar-coated kind.  And, I'm right at home giving him just that, because I know from experience that there's a lot more substance behind being "average" than what the world can see, than what Benedict can see in himself. 

So, I reach down deep into some personal experience, grab my bible, and proceed with the "Big Toe" talk.  

{That is not a typo.} 

For the body does not consist of one member but of many.  

If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body." 

And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body, that would not make it any less a part of the body.  If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? 

If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But, as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as He chose. 

~ 1 Corinthians 12:14-18

As a child I remember wanting to be able to do those back handsprings, too. In middle school and even high school it was volleyball, basketball, academics, music, friendships, you name it, I went for it, but I was never great, just good enough to hang in there with the rest.  I wasn't a heart or brain or spine.  I was a big toe.  

The big toe is a worker, a try-and-try-harder member of the body.  The big toe isn't admirable or attractive, and it stays hidden in a shoe most of it's life.  But, without the big toe, the body struggles to remain balanced, strong, composed.  The big toe holds the body up.  It pushes off the pavement, propels movement, gains ground for the good of the entire body step, by step, by step.

And, if the big to doesn't do what it was created to do, the body is weakened, it's direction is compromised.  Perhaps, at least for now, Ben is being asked to fulfill the role of the big toe.  I want him to know that there is no shame whatsoever in that. In fact it is my life-long prayer for him that he will be able to recognize and embrace with confidence all the ways that God is shaping him as a young man through the gifts He has chosen uniquely for him, and that he will have the courage to live a life of virtue through the offering of those gifts to the world.

For as in one body we have many members, and all the members do not have the same function, 

so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members, one of another.  

Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them.  

~ Romans 12:4-6

It took me a very long time to figure out that being the toe wasn't so bad.  It took me even longer to realize that what good the toe brings to the world is not for it's own personal gain or glory but for God and God alone (whether we attribute it to Him or not).

Helping a 14 year old understand this truth - that he is created, gifted, and loved for a purpose beyond the self-seeking admiration that the world can give isn't easy.  I'm not sure it ever gets easy for any of us. 

What reward, what praise, what admiration or accolades does the world give to the mother who paces the floor through the night, comforting a fussy baby, who makes sure there is food on the table, clean clothes on backs, who says yes to others a thousand times a day, and just as many times no to herself? 

None. 

For you, Benedict, what reward will the world ever give to you for the decision you make every single day to study with perseverance subjects that the smarter kids already have mastered, to shoot free throws until the sun goes down, or to practice your high jump form over and over again knowing that there will always be others who find the height you're trying to reach supremely easy?  

Nothing. The world will give you nothing.  But, the Lord will give you everything, every grace, every mercy, every blessing, because you give HIM everything when you keep trying, keep giving your best every single day, doing what you're meant to do, being who you are meant to be for the Body of Christ.  And the reward for that, which is heaven, cannot even begin to compare to any prize you could ever claim here on this earth.

I'll always believe that there is greatness in our children. What mother doesn't have such faith?! Benedict may surprise us all one day and become a stellar hoop star.  He may graduate at the top of his class, or even earn a scholarship for college (please, God, let it be that!).

But, if he doesn't experience any of those things, if he was indeed created to be the toe that gives balance, support and a quiet strength to the body, then I can only hope that Ben discovers along the path of life just as much joy and fulfillment in living the great purpose of his calling as he would if the world had ever considered him to be above average.