, , , , , , , , , ,


I just rescued my boy from a {potential} disaster. And all I needed was an iPhone. The thing is—he’ll never know.

Tonight I was not successful in convincing my boy to give up on a craft project. Yes, I wanted him to give up. Forget about it. Move on. Not really the character building traits I try to instill in him on every other part of his life. But really it was for his best. It really was.

The one thing you should know about First Boy is he is all about creating. He literally can’t sleep at night because he has ideas spinning in his head. Ideas of how this will turn into that.

The other thing you should know about him is he will create something out of anything. Anything as in: You-think-it’s-only-suitable-for-the-trashcan-kind-of-anything.

And I’ve {slowly} grown to love that part of him who wants to resurrect life out of all forgotten and sometimes broken things. Still I admit, if anything turns my voice to a scolding one, it’s when I catch him picking up “treasures” off the sidewalk or in a parking lot.

“But Mom, I’m going to make something out of this.”

Of course he is. And no lectures on germs, grime, and gross things that happen in parking lots ever convince him that the trash he is holding onto is not worth keeping. He sees otherwise. He sees the potential of what lies beyond the obvious. And now He knows better than to show me what he finds, he just quietly slips it into his pocket. And I let him.

And when his findings become created treasures, he beams—and so do I.

And when he wants to give it to someone—I cringe.

Because I don’t know that they will see the value of a broken thing turned beautiful. To be honest, I don’t think they will even look all that closely to see what it once was and what it is now. And what if they only see it in pieces and not the whole picture? What if they forget to look past the creation and see the creator beaming at what his hands and spinning head of creativity did to bring about this transformation?

What if?

Even I can read in-between the lines of what I just wrote to see there are some spiritual themes sneaking in. There is something bigger here. Even bigger than my original thought on how I rescued my boy. Which was really a confession to my sending a text to another mom to explain why my son is about to give her 14-year old son a necklace of green yarn and broken plastic (“trash”) as his birthday gift. I see now I wasn’t rescuing him. I was protecting him. I was making the case for how I am not only concerned about what others think of me, but what they think of my boys. I wanted her to know—so she could then tell her son, and then my son would feel good.

I think that might be dodging real life. It might even be manipulation. It certainly wasn’t authentic.

But I wanted to rescue his 10-year old heart from watching a necklace tossed aside and never looked in the eye. I wanted to save him from hurt and from the disappointment that not everyone will appreciate his creativity. I wanted to keep his heart from rough edges growing around it that will block his creativity altogether. I wanted to keep him from growing.

Wait. What did I just say?

I. Wanted. To. Keep. Him. From. Growing.

The same me who in this post said she wanted to mature and grow is going all out to be sure her son doesn’t.

Gosh, sure glad I could figure that out right in front of you.

So in this {awkward} and authentic moment of self-discovery, I can’t help but realize how God is a lot like First Boy. He really is. {And I’m a lot like a strand of green yarn and broken plastic.}

God sees the broken pieces and claims them as His own. He puts them in His holy pocket believing what He has found is worth holding onto. He sees the potential of what lies beyond the obvious. And He can’t stop thinking up ways to make what is broken—into a masterpiece. His hands craft, mold, shape, glue, cut, or even crochet beauty into all the germy, grimy, gross places. And sometimes the beauty in the finished work is evident to all who see.

But there will always be others who only see a piece of broken plastic hanging from a piece of green yarn.

And the heart response in that tension-filled moment makes all the difference in the journey of growing up.

Thinking grown-up thoughts as I await First Boy’s return from birthday party,


p.s. want to know why I’m hiding {right in front of you}? Click here.


The images of this music video came to mind as I typed this post. I think you’ll like it.

Jason Gray- I Am New



photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/bichxa/3053868243/”>bichxa</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;