Sometimes It Hurts To Be A Parent

I am the father of two fine sons. The oldest is married, living in the Dallas, TX area and is doing quite well. In his growing up days, we had more than one scare that his life was threatened. I've often said that he was spared from life threatening injuries and sicknesses due to the fact that God has a special plan for his life. He's now rejoined the blogging world. CAUTION: He tends to look at the world with much more of a jaded eye than I.

Check it out, if you dare.

That's son #1. Now for Son #2.

Caleb is our youngest son. We adopted him as a newborn baby after his birth mother at age 14 decided to give him up. (Another reason for my passionate pro-life stance.)

He is a very active 12 year old. He is quite small and skinny for his age and not particularly athletic. The other day, he came home wanting me to sign a permission slip for him to try out for the middle school basketball team. He enjoys basketball, but like his father, is not overly talented, due to his size and height and lack of consistent practice.

Eagerly the next morning, he bounced off to school to give his best shot in order to join the team. As I picked him up after school that day, he was down-trodden. "I know I'm going to get cut from the team," he said. He knew that he wasn't as fast, skilled, or as talented as the other boys. Nevertheless, he held on to some bit of hope that he would make the team.

This was a Wednesday afternoon. We went on the church that evening. On the way home, Caleb begged for me to take him to the school to see if his name was on the team roster. As we arrived at the school campus and into the parking lot, he practically had the door open before I could stop the car.

I waited patiently as he trotted to the gym door to see if his name was on the list. One look at his hanging head and slumping steps as he returned told me all I needed to know. "Coach put all the football boys on the team. I didn't make it." I knew he wanted to cry, but because he was with his dad, he resisted as best he could. I wished I could take the hurt away. I tried to tell him he did his best and that other boys also did not make the team. Of course, those words are little consolation in a situation like that.

We arrived home and he, still with a hanging head, beat a path to his room as I explained to his mother what had happened. With her best motherly compassion, she hugged and comforted him. We both wished we could hurt for him. But that would not be fair. I reminded Caleb that life wasn't always fair. I recalled how I hadn't made the first string football team when I was in middle school. Still, I wished I could wave a wand and it would be all better.

Life does have its disappointments.

Sometimes it hurts to be a parent.