A couple days ago
Joel told me,
"Ben is stronger
than Spiderman."
"He is?"
"Yeah," he said,
"He is?"
"Yeah," he said,
pointing to his own
bare abs. "Ben has six of these,
but Spiderman
only has four,
and I have three."
I, of course, had to agree with the assessment, being the observant mother that I am. Joel draws Spiderman probably 25 times a week, standing, climbing, crouching, defending justice in every position. As an artist, he notices every detail, down to the number of abs his superhero has in comparison to his oldest brother.
But never has Ben appeared as strong and as tall as he did yesterday. He had to address his freshman speech class at Harford Community in the evening, and I wondered if he needed a practice audience.
"Nah, but if you could proofread this--" and before he handed me the speech I was asking what the assignmment was.
"A commemorative speech," he said. "You have to pick someone praiseworthy."
"Who'd you pick?" I asked.
"Jesus," he said.
I read over his speech and nearly wept. If you knew how I have prayed for this boy over the years and wondered if he'd stand as tall and strong spiritually as he does physically, you would understand the depth of my emotion. To join the moms who can say with assurance, "I have no greater joy than to know that my children walk in truth" --THAT was far better than the day I joined motherhood 19 years ago!
So many times through the years I have wondered if he'd be a leader or a follower. If he'd be content just to live his life as a quiet testimony to the Lord without ever boldly opening his mouth and profess to a dying world his love for Jesus. I wondered especially if he'd "hide his light" during college like I had. He was one who had come out of a safe Christian home, a nurturing church where God-talk is the norm, and a Christian school where discipleship is its middle name, but none of that guarantees passion.
I watched him wrestle with his faith last semester, and for a while did believe that he would choose the path of least resistance. I saw a young man more eager to find his academic wings and keep up a high GPA and a strong upper body than to speak up for his Lord. I saw him read his Bible at home. I knew his attendance at church and care group was regular, but wondered, if out from under the shelter of those places and people, would he speak up before godless peers on a secular campus?
He brought home a CD after speech class last night. Then he disappeared to the basement to unwind. I stuck the CD in. It was of him giving his commemorative speech.
"As soon as I saw that we were to pick someone praiseworthy," he began to the class, "I knew who it would be. Jesus. My Jesus. NO one is more worthy of praise than Jesus."
He went on to speak of what Christ has done in his life. "He gives my life purpose and meaning and joy." He spoke of Jesus' power to heal, his humility in the face of crucifixion, his desire for all to have eternal life. Ben ended by inviting questions afterward to anyone who'd like to know more about 'Jesus, my Jesus.'
Normally after a speech in that class, there's moving around, rustling of papers, chit-chat among students as the next speaker walks up. But I noticed a somber mood. Quiet. A holy hush in the room. My heart skipped a beat.
"Thank you, Lord Jesus," I whispered as I watched it. Thank you for hearing my prayers for Ben. For being real to him, for solidifying his faith in You. For giving him courage to speak Your name in front of a potentially mocking or hostile crowd."
I am floating today.
Here are some old pictures of my Ben thru the years--years I played with him, prayed for him, watched him play, listened to him pray .
In no particular order....here's a few shapshots of his life.
First Christmas
I, of course, had to agree with the assessment, being the observant mother that I am. Joel draws Spiderman probably 25 times a week, standing, climbing, crouching, defending justice in every position. As an artist, he notices every detail, down to the number of abs his superhero has in comparison to his oldest brother.
But never has Ben appeared as strong and as tall as he did yesterday. He had to address his freshman speech class at Harford Community in the evening, and I wondered if he needed a practice audience.
"Nah, but if you could proofread this--" and before he handed me the speech I was asking what the assignmment was.
"A commemorative speech," he said. "You have to pick someone praiseworthy."
"Who'd you pick?" I asked.
"Jesus," he said.
I read over his speech and nearly wept. If you knew how I have prayed for this boy over the years and wondered if he'd stand as tall and strong spiritually as he does physically, you would understand the depth of my emotion. To join the moms who can say with assurance, "I have no greater joy than to know that my children walk in truth" --THAT was far better than the day I joined motherhood 19 years ago!
So many times through the years I have wondered if he'd be a leader or a follower. If he'd be content just to live his life as a quiet testimony to the Lord without ever boldly opening his mouth and profess to a dying world his love for Jesus. I wondered especially if he'd "hide his light" during college like I had. He was one who had come out of a safe Christian home, a nurturing church where God-talk is the norm, and a Christian school where discipleship is its middle name, but none of that guarantees passion.
I watched him wrestle with his faith last semester, and for a while did believe that he would choose the path of least resistance. I saw a young man more eager to find his academic wings and keep up a high GPA and a strong upper body than to speak up for his Lord. I saw him read his Bible at home. I knew his attendance at church and care group was regular, but wondered, if out from under the shelter of those places and people, would he speak up before godless peers on a secular campus?
He brought home a CD after speech class last night. Then he disappeared to the basement to unwind. I stuck the CD in. It was of him giving his commemorative speech.
"As soon as I saw that we were to pick someone praiseworthy," he began to the class, "I knew who it would be. Jesus. My Jesus. NO one is more worthy of praise than Jesus."
He went on to speak of what Christ has done in his life. "He gives my life purpose and meaning and joy." He spoke of Jesus' power to heal, his humility in the face of crucifixion, his desire for all to have eternal life. Ben ended by inviting questions afterward to anyone who'd like to know more about 'Jesus, my Jesus.'
Normally after a speech in that class, there's moving around, rustling of papers, chit-chat among students as the next speaker walks up. But I noticed a somber mood. Quiet. A holy hush in the room. My heart skipped a beat.
"Thank you, Lord Jesus," I whispered as I watched it. Thank you for hearing my prayers for Ben. For being real to him, for solidifying his faith in You. For giving him courage to speak Your name in front of a potentially mocking or hostile crowd."
I am floating today.
Here are some old pictures of my Ben thru the years--years I played with him, prayed for him, watched him play, listened to him pray .
In no particular order....here's a few shapshots of his life.
First Christmas
Senior year with Molly (top of page)--his beloved Golden Retriever he always wanted . In 2002 I made all three kids write persuasive essays on why to get another dog. We were trying to decide whether to take on the responsibility again our after our old border collie, Lady, died. (When your students don't want to write, you have to give them all the more incentive to write with purpose and a goal for their effort. I capitalized on this opportunity!) Ben took the topic a step further; his essay was on "Why to Get a Big Dog"--which, as you can see, succeeded.
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Turning 3. We played Pin the Tail on the Dalmatian (Paul's drawing of our the only dog around at that time--our neighbors'.)
My sister Andrea's horse, Boom, decided to
answer nature's call with Ben on board. 1999
The days he was shorter than his dad are long gone.
>>>>
Youngest fisherman but he caught the biggest
Maryland rockfish on Craig's boat that day.
Strategist Ben with strategist Pappaw.
Above: my favorite picture of the children when they were little. Ben age 3, Sarah age 2, and newborn Stephen.
I am one blessed mama!
