That’s My Boy!

23 02 2013

Today I was filled with about as much pride as I have ever experienced. Before you go spouting about how “pride cometh (drop the “th” already) before the fall,” let me explain a bit more. This wasn’t a pride in the selfish, sinful kind of way. No. It was pride that I experienced through someone else. He happens to be my 5 year old, excuse me, 5 1/2 year old son, Micah.

This is the last day of our 3-day skiing vacation. Each of the first two days, Lindsey and I have taken him out of his ski school a bit early so that we could ski with him. Yesterday, the boy skied down the big mountain with us. Today, he successfully skied a blue slope. (For any non-skiers out there, that’s an intermediate level.) After that, I was a proud papa. But it gets better.

Our next trip was to the other side of the mountain where we could try a slope that was a bit longer. It is one of the resort’s easiest slopes. Nice and wide with a gentle down-hill grade. As we were riding the lift up to the top, we noticed the wind picking up just a bit. When we got off the lift, the wind was really blowing. And the snowfall had picked as well. It’s not unusual for the wind to be stronger at the top of the mountain and so with Lindsey leading the way, we tried to ski down a little and hopefully get below some of the wind.

After skiing down about 50 yards or so, we came to the most awful snow storm I’ve ever seen. The wind was blowing snow up the mountain. Total white out. I could barely see Lindsey and there, just a few yards behind her, was Micah, arms crossed over his chest, slightly hunched over. We were all slowly moving forward. I still don’t know how Lindsey knew where to go, but she did it. And Micah followed right in her tracks.

We finally made it down to a spot where some trees gave us a bit of a break from the wind. Lindsey stopped and Micah caught up to her. I saw her talking to him as I pulled up beside them. She was reassuring him that it would be alright. He turned and looked at me, tears in his eyes. He was cold. Miserable, actually. As Lindsey took off again, I told him we were going to be alright but we had to keep moving. He nodded and followed after Mama again.

The wind never stopped, but did lighten up as we moved down the mountain. At some places, Micah was slowed a lot by the wind. I’d catch up to him, grab his hand and sling-shot him forward. Eventually, we made it to the warming house to enjoy the best hot chocolate you can imagine. As we sat near the fire place, that’s when the pride swelled from deep within. My son grew up a little bit today and while I’d never wish to go through that again, I wouldn’t trade the closeness I felt to him for anything. “That’s my boy!”

It made me think about my relationship with God, my Father. There are times when this world throws things at us that just seem unbearable. We’re not sure how we ended up here and we don’t see an end in sight. Sometimes we just want to sit down and cry. But that doesn’t get us very far. We have to point our feet forward, put our heads down, and just keep moving. Whenever we think we can’t keep going, that’s when God takes us by the hand and propels us on. It breaks His heart to see us go through it, but when the storm is over, I believe He looks down and says, “That’s my boy!”