I have two men in my life under the age of 12, two fine-boned, beautiful, hyperactive, hard to control, leave-you-pulling-your-hair-out- by-the-roots men: Auz who just turned 11, and Z who is still platinum blond when his military-style “high and tight” clipper cut grows out. (If you’re new to me, thanks for reading, but lest you think there is something incredibly wrong here, I must explain Auz and Z are my nephews. All clear? Great!) Z’s the one with the startling tiger eyes, so like my brother, gold and unsettling, beautiful but with an undercurrent that whispers of the dark and dangerous depths of the jungle. As different as night and day, and completely formed individual personalities, sometimes it is a joy to be with them together, and sometimes, well, not so much.
Auz and Z have their good days, like all brothers, and like all brothers, have days they cannot stand to be on the same floor of the house. This is where the beauty of Nerf guns shines (Don’t judge. Wait until you have two ADHD boys vying for individual attention. Then we’ll see where you stand on the matter. By the way, might I suggest you buy your own Nerf gun. Sometimes it’s more fun when you shoot back.) The one thing I have tried my absolute best is to instill in them a sense of stability and permanence in my life and in my heart – I attempt to remain near no matter what clouds may circle overhead, I am near no matter what pestilence may rain from the sky. And I’m pretty sure they understand that. I try,( Lord, please allow this to continue to be true.), to keep all my promises to these beloved boys, and I believe I have yet to fail.
As you are aware, I have no children of my own, can’t have children of my own. So, Auz, Z, and their much older sister, K, are it. And I adore them. So, my question is: how to adore without creating entitlement? Well, K is far past my realm of influence, and I don’t really think I have to worry about Auz and Z. I don’t either,because, while my testosterone-laden Air Force cop Top 3 brother certainly takes to heart that proverb about sparing the rod and spoiling the child, and he does believe in corporeal punishment,( just some trivial info: so do I). Don’t get me wrong, there’s no abuse in their home, but M lives by a code of honor and control that he desperately wants to instill in his sons. Sometimes, his methods appear harsh to outsiders, but he’s seen the outcome of coddled children, and won’t have that for his boys. I am also privileged to have the word of God hidden in my heart: that our God had already planned Auz and Z’s futures an eternity before they were born, their names were written on His hand; He, our God, knows the plans He has for them, and those plans are for their ultimate good and not harm. I also believe we came into this world with the basic personalities God created. Those boys, my boys, will survive; those boys, my boys, will thrive. There’s so much love around them, how could they not? Parents, grandparents, sister, and aunties.
Last week, my sister-in-love manifested that love as she spent a whole afternoon hanging out with me helping Santa make sure the boys received everything on their lists. Auz, my older nephew wanted normal 11-year stuff: lego sets, video game, Pokemon. The only thing out of the realm of normal was things to do with space, and I’m not talking glow-in-the dark star stickers on the ceiling. Astronomy fascinates Auz.
Z delivered a fat pencil list somewhat more farfetched and fantastical then his brother, and if it was any other child, I’d have to say that is was his age, and Piaget’s Preoperational stage. Z, well, he dances (literally) to the beat of his own drum constantly, and as no one else can normally hear this beat it must be something internal he’s hearing (and I cleaned his ears, so it’s not the vibration of earwax). Do you know, I envy Z’s freedom, his ability to be himself and spin and twirl and kick up those bird legs, and flail those wheat chaff arms? So many times I’ve wanted to just break into spontaneous dance – and Flash Mob disqualifies on grounds of lack of spontaneity, but just dance because my day went supremely well or even even because I was able to get out of bed without a throbbing headache? Or simply dance because God is amazing and loves me despite my human failures and frailties? Or even dance because I finally get to don Fall clothes (In AZ that happens about November or December.).
No, Z, doesn’t dance for any of those reasons. Z dances for the pure joy flooding his heart until it’s ready to spill over into the cool desert night air. Z dances anytime the mood strikes him. Maybe the wind blew right in the direction around and through the patio door; maybe he got to stay in his skivvies an hour longer than normal? Maybe he got an extra piece of bacon? Who knows? But what I do know is that if he were any less boy, ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” should be his lifesong. So, when I saw on his Christmas list (Under the goat -NO, chickens -NO, horse-NO), a disco ball, I grabbed him by his belly tickling him [He’s very ticklish :)], I asked about that disco ball. And do you know what he replied? He said, “So, that we can all dance whenever we want (as a family).”
“So, we can all dance whenever we want (as a family).” Now, does that not just bring tears to your eyes. This tiny 6- year old gets it. It’s not really about what we do but for whom we do it. This tiny 6-year old’s heart, though he may not recognize it yet, was created by HIS Lord for relationship and for love. Seeing so much of what I hoped was mirrored in my own green eyes, I couldn’t help but reach for him and hold him in my embrace until finally he was able to squirm his way free with one of those smiles that his parents insist transform his face to appear so much like mine. I don’t see it, but then I also didn’t recognize Bruce Hornsby while I he and I enjoyed a delightful,10 minute conversation at the Richmond Symphony Orchestra which had been engaged to accompany The Dave Matthews Band, (Can you imagine any weirder combination?) while waiting for the crowd to surge ahead, nor did I recognize Ralph Sampson, quite possibly the tallest man I’ve ever seen, when he and I were working out next to each other in the sport’s training room at UVa. My point: I don’t necessarily recognize faces. I’ve often been amazed at cop drama shows at how many people can recognize and sketch from memory a criminal’s face. Nope, not me. Now, ask me to describe their heart and mind, and I’m your girl.
God gives us light that we may shine for his glory, and that light shall eventually flood all the corners of the Earth. This He promises. For every knee shall bow and every tongue proclaim, and I don’t see why, after He tells us we may rise and gently lifts with His hand, we will not dance with joy. Z’s just getting a head start.
Halleluiah, praise to Him!
The Unexpected Life 