i n s p i r e d

Isaiah draws... often. Says, "I'm just practicing."

He wakes me early on a Saturday Sleep-in morning. "Mama, it's foggy out! This is the perfect kind of morning to go for a walk!"

I roll all groggy from cozy bed covers, husband pulls feather comforter under chin, and I sigh as I pull on layers of resolve over pajamas. It's cold and I'm struggling to put on the same kind of enthusiasm as my boy.

We walk through the center of the village, past the dairy cows, and up the hill toward the road that heads northeast into the forest. Isaiah talks and talks. "What if..." and whole schools of thought ending in, "What do you think about that, Mama?" I try to offer up perspectives, volley questions back to him.

We stop to watch an earthworm cross the road, its length sliding between road's rocky asphalt. We talk philosophy and the virtue of stick-to-iteveness. Finding the path and making a go of it.

We discuss how when faced with an uphill climb, it's best to take a deep breath, pray for help for a good attitude, then ascend one step at a time.

"Because you never know what you'll find at the top!" He flashes contagious smile at me.

As we approach the top, my breath catches, "Zae! Look!" We stop and I point ahead of us. A lonely deer out for his morning stroll, too, stands watching our ascent. Earlier Zae told me how much it would mean to him to see some deer while on our walk.

The road levels out and we watch thick wet air close in. Sprinkles turn to heavy drops. I try not to be grumpy because I'm cold... and now I'll be wet. I press my lips together. I don't want him to think I'm anything but enthusiastic about this walk.

"Mama, hurry! This way! Trust me! I'll show you where we can go!" I follow him as we duck our faces away from rain, eyes squinting through soggy air. He's all confidence and chivalry.

"Quick! Up here! I'll go first to dry the steps so they won't be slippery for you!" I climb the ladder, his blue wellies glistening just above me. It is dry inside the hunter's perch. We sit, silent, waiting for wildlife to cross the field, listening to rain. Everything is fresh like when a bucket of clean water swishes across concrete patio. And there inside the perch we talk about life, what God is showing us. We dream.

I thank him for rescuing me from becoming drenched and miserable. And I discover that all my grumpies have disappeared. That I am overwhelmed with the sweetness of this boy so full of passion and enthusiasm and creativity and spunk. This boy on the brink of manhood.

And we watch two deer walk along the fence-line below us.

At last the rain subsides to sparse sprinkles. We climb down the ladder and head back to the house. On the way he shares more ideas -- there is no shortage with him -- and he takes my hand as we walk.

It is a perfect way to begin a Saturday in March.

Then he turned 13 on Friday. June 11th.

"Mama, come watch me! I can land some new tricks!"

This boy whose passion lends itself to sharp criticism of self when he doesn't meet his own high expectations.

This boy who nails his jumps over and over. But sighs, smiles, and shakes his head when board and feet betray intentions. I am so proud of this boy growing up from the inside out. I can see the concerted effort not to allow himself to be overcome by frustration. His efforts are a success.

Last Sunday he fell from the top of the skate ramp. Apparently, in spite of his wearing a helmet, the impact on his cheek and chin were enough for him to sustain a minor concussion. Yet, he was back at practicing as soon as I'd relent... this after a mandated 48-hour rest from high-energy activity.

Adventuresome. Intense. Passionate. Enthusiastic. Helpful. Kind. Encouraging. Courageous.

Inspires me to stay with it. To practice.