To My Son on the Eve of His 13th Birthday

Yours was the first. The first birthday lost to the pandemic. I will never forget how they literally closed the school on the day of your twelfth birthday. We joked that it was the best birthday gift ever. Then came the losses. I was the first one to send party cancellation emails. Gone was your traditional birthday Chick-Fil-A lunch brought to the school cafeteria. Your basketball team party with your friends. Your baseball season. Your band concert. Your youth group summer camp. Your long-awaited fishing trip to Canada with your Papa John. It would just be for a few weeks or months we thought. We did not know yet that we would be here--one year later and still the pandemic lingers on.

The first weeks were weird and scary. Your dad bravely faced the unknown as he went into work in the hospital each day with the same PPE recycled from the day before. I worried for his co-workers, his patients, and his own health and well-being. You were there, though, to bring a refreshing breath of normalcy to the stifling paralysis I felt. You and your brother created sports videos for your cousins and made up new games around the house. You filmed trick shots and solved Rubik’s cubes and watched the entire Star Wars saga. You researched more about your passions and took up some new hobbies. You brought hope and light and energy and laughter to our home.

I taught middle school for long enough to know that usually twelve is the time where youth start separating from their parents. Instead of drifting away, though, we had to pull together to make it through this trying year. So, in my eyes, I got a gift. The gift of you. For a whole year. You see, I have always loved 7th graders. They are my favorite. They have the exuberance of children with the wit of adults. A hilarious combination. And I got a front-seat view for the whole year. The pandemic has been hard and long and has brought so much heartache to so many, but I will never be sad about being the first person you de-briefed with after school or came to talk to during a break. I will relish the fact that we got to eat lunch together for 365 straight days. I will not regret giving up a year of youth sports to get to spend weekends playing disc golf and tennis, hiking, kayaking, and mountain biking with you. I am thankful for all the baskets shot, balls caught, goals made, and targets hit in our very own yard. I got to hear every band rehearsal and piano lesson, too. I appreciate the time I had to be able to help you learn to do your laundry, vacuum, empty the dishwasher, and make your own meals. I will remember cheering on our favorite teams together—even when they lost the big games (which they seemed to do a lot this year). 

We were able to process a lot of really hard stuff, too. I am thankful that I got to be the one to discuss faith matters with you as we talked about what it truly means to love your neighbor in a pandemic. We talked about the protests for racial justice, how systemic racism has shaped our country, and how it continues to impact those we hold dear. We saw forest fires, hurricanes, and snow storms and talked about how the climate is changing and our responsibility as children of God to be good stewards of the earth. We endured a long and contentious election cycle. We watched the upsetting scenes of a violent attack on our US Capitol and the democratic processes it represents. We sat side by side as a new president was inaugurated and a young poet gave a hopeful vision of a country that was yet unfinished. We discussed the significance of seeing a woman with a diverse background elected to the Vice Presidency and why representation matters. We cheered as the rover landed on Mars—seven months in the making. We sat side by side as history unfolded in countless ways during this monumental year and processed together the ramifications. Remarkably, I can count on one hand the complaints you have had during this turbulent time. Your perseverance in making the best of out of things has been truly remarkable. You have inspired me with your diligence and patience—more than most adults I know.

A friend of mine once told me that the moment your children do not need you to play with them anymore is the exact moment that you play with them anytime they ask because soon they will be off to their own things. We may have been home together to protect our family and our neighbors from a pandemic, but in the meantime, we also protected your childhood for at least one more year. Gone were the burdens of peer-pressure with just the company of a few chosen friends. No social media or phone meant you were oblivious to the comings and goings of your classmates which allowed you to appreciate where you were and who you were with. You did the things that truly interested you without influence from others on the outside.  As a result, you know more deeply who you are and what you believe. You solidified who you are as a person, which will serve you well when you go back out into the world again.

I hope that we can emerge again soon from the cocoon our house has been the last year. I know you have a passion for many activities that you are longing to do again. I will never regret, though, the year we got to spend together. When I sent you off to kindergarten, I could have never imagined a year where I literally got all of you. I pray that on some level it has been meaningful for you, too, even if you do not have the words to express why at this point in your life. If you learned anything, I hope it is my fierce love for you and the awesome, amazing person you are becoming.  Oh, and don’t worry, I do realize that someday I’m going to owe you a really big birthday party.