Early on in the football season, the boys were given discount cards to sale as a fundraiser. Isaiah brought his stack home determined to unload all 20 so as to earn a free hoody. This overextended momma let him know right up front that this year, he was on his own! Normally my shy guy bribes his social butterfly sister to do the peddling for him, but not this time. He harassed the entire neighborhood along with the majority of our church family. No one was safe, from the teenagers to the granny-mothers who hadn’t a clue what he was selling, he didn’t discriminate between his targets.
All for a sweatshirt.
Low and behold, he managed to get rid of every last one. Kudos son, on a job well done.
Last week while I was away with my cross country team, I get a text from football boy. The sweatshirt had arrived. Naturally I proceeded to pick at him about how I couldn’t wait to borrow it since we wear the same size. “No way, Mom. You’re not taking my hoody.”
The next day, gameday, brought on another opportunity to tease him about my new attire for the game. Somewhat irritated, he adamantly refused my requests as he threw on his jersey before school. I let him be and went on to make breakfast and pack lunches. Then just before we walked out the door, he came in to the kitchen, brand new personalized hoody in hand. “Here, momma, you can wear this to the game tonight.”
Lord help me not to cry like a big sap!
Some of you may think I’ve flipped my lid. I mean, what’s the big deal, it’s just a shirt, right? Uhm, no, it’s much more than that. He worked his little tail off to earn that reward and he chose to share it with me, his super proud momma. I knew this was his way of saying, “Love you Mom.”
After he left for the day, I looked at my mom and said, “I don’t care if it’s 100 degrees tonight, I’m wearing this sweatshirt!” And I did, with a huge smile on my face that was also bittersweet. His hoody….was too big for me. So with the sleeves hanging over my hands, I waited for him at the gate post game to talk about how he’d get that missed interception next time. And as he stood looking down at me, my heart melted. My little boy ain’t so little anymore. Now every time I pull on his prized possession and it swallows my smaller frame, it will be like wrapping up in a warm hug from my oldest son who’s growing up way too fast without my permission.
“Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift? The fruit of the womb, his generous legacy? Like a warrior’s fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth. Oh, how blessed are you parents, with your quivers full of children!”
(Psalms 127:3-5 The Message)