It is a rare treat for me to enjoy time with my 14-year-old son—solo, or with my other son (he’s 12), for that matter. Yet, the times this occurs never cease to color a glorious picture of growth, maturity, and a connection for which I am deeply grateful.
While my son’s younger brother was at Boy Scout camp this weekend, the teenager and I had some time to ourselves. Saturday morning, I wanted to try a new (to me) Thai restaurant. He chose his meal, and I chose mine. His arrived first, so, of course, I dug in. He wasn’t thrilled about me helping myself to his piping hot chicken fried rice but allowed me a taste (or three) of the fanfare I wished I had selected.
When my food finally arrived, I impatiently dug in, and he simply looked at me and quietly said, “Shouldn’t we pray?” With a mouthful of food and a slightly injured ego, I nodded in agreement, albeit after I had already started stuffing my face with delectable green curry. That young man led us in prayer, in a very public place. It warmed my heart to witness the beginnings of a humble leader. A young man I used to lead but, more and more, find myself accepting the role of follower as he embarks on fresh independence and a newfound freedom in maturity.
After our meal as we walked through the crowded parking lot to the car in the slight mist of the afternoon, I found my place behind the wheel and started the engine. I noticed my son was nowhere near the passenger side, let alone in his rightful shotgun position. Then I noticed him, standing awkwardly, near the rear of the driver’s side of my car. I opened the door and kindly said, “What the heck are you doing?”
He sheepishly pointed to a vehicle, slowly pulling in on the other side of our parked (and now running) car. Driven by, what appeared to be a very young driver with an older set of passengers inhabiting the backseat (parents, grandparents?). It took me a second to recognize that my son, this 14-year-old man-child who typically lives in his own little world, noticed that the car to our right needed extra room to park and allow the passengers to exit.
It struck me that this kid, who is daily becoming a young man, is maturing at light speed. He notices those around him. He feels empathy toward the souls in his periphery. He thinks to give thanks before a meal. And he humbly steps out of the way to allow others the room they need to do their thing. That one small gesture made a big impact on me yesterday afternoon in a crowded parking lot outside a Thai restaurant I had chosen for lunch.
The fact that this same teenage kid literally timed my quick pop-in to a favorite boutique on the way home, hovering over me like a greedy parole officer, constantly spouting, “You don’t need that; it’s too much. C’mon, I’m bored. Three minutes left, mother!” was of no consequence. He showed his true colors earlier that day, and it was a portrait I will forever hold in the canvas of my momma heart.
Gracious, thoughtful, kind, humble, and putting others first. Bright, vibrant, beautiful colors of a rainbow that paint a picture at which I cannot stop staring. A son who is growing up, growing away, and perhaps, most importantly, growing into a young man of impeccable character. I never cease to feel pride in my sons. However, when they surprise me with small gestures that create a big impact, it is hard not to smile and think to myself: He is pretty awesome, that one.
by Jessica Johnston 
by Mikala Albertson 
by Carolyn Moore 
