I sense that something big is going on, but my husband only says, “I want to let Alex and Zach do some driving today.” (They obtained their permits recently.)
The sausage spits and sputters in the pan. I stay out of the kitchen but watch the two boy-men. One is turning sausage in a skillet; the other puts biscuits into the oven.
We’ve had the grandsons and their sister this week. Their Pappaw and the boys are burning things in the fire pit, cutting and firing off stumps, busy with target practice and mowing. Some of it close to the house, so I become an observer.
Something intentional is going on. Unspoken, but there’s a pattern.
He’s showing these young men, almost 15, a gateway to manhood, ways to feel like men in their bodies, ways to serve others, ways to feel good when they fall asleep at night.
The incredible is happening right here in our house.
These boys are becoming men.
Looks like what I’m seeing might be parts of a rite of passage that change boy-thinking into man-thinking. Their dad is leading them the same direction. And I got to be here and see this!
During the past year, their Pappaw has strained to pour bits and pieces into the boys who keep growing taller and stronger. I suspect he may be trying to hold this broken world together for them, to show them how to give and how to live.
I am Mammaw, cook, laundress, word person, observer in awe of a manly process. A beautiful thing. Part of their story is unfolding here.
After breakfast, I hear my husband say, “Gentlemen, are you ready?” There is kindness in it.
They head out the door with such confidence. I watch as they walk toward the truck.
Dark days will come. It’s part of life. Those days are holy. That’s when God is the closest and at work, teaching and guiding with His perfect will. God will be in the tremors for them like He has been for us.
If they look in the rearview mirror, they will see where God was present through it all.
I can’t tell you what a comfort this mystery is for me.
They may meet fears as they drive into unknown territories. I know this. But it’s exhilarating at the same time. That’s what I think I’m seeing.
As a grandparent, I ask God to protect these two who are spreading their wings.
I put the dishes away, sort thoughts, glance out the window again. The fire in the stump, still smoking. I think of incense.
Giddy gratitude for all the above,
P.S. I hope you can relate. Grateful for your comments and shares.
Stump burning brightly in our yard, photographed by Zach Jimerson, August 2019.