Wednesday night was the annual 8th Grade Blast-Off. Blast-off is a sort of un-official graduation ceremony, but instead of the school running it, the principal starts it, and the rest of the evening is spent watching parents go up on stage with their kids. They sit in the three chairs provided, and the child must listen without speaking, while the parents tell their kid whatever it is they want him or her to know. Mostly it's about why the child makes the parent proud; what the parent loves about the child; and what the parent hopes, dreams, wishes for the child's future.
Since this is my blog, and on it I'm in the habit of being honest, even when it makes me look bad, I will openly admit that I was NOT looking forward to this evening. I expected to spend a couple hours listening to proud parents gush about how wonderful their kids are, when I know very well that little Bobby is, in fact, NOT an angel, or little Susie has really got her parents fooled.
And to some extent, it was that. But mostly, it wasn't.
Several things really surprised me. The first is that several of our biggest behavioral problem-kids cried. In front of the whole 8th grade and their parents. When you're a 14-year-old boy, you'd rather have your eye gouged out than cry in front of your friends. But there they sat, many kids looking like they were braced for the electric chair, waiting to hear what their parents had to say, and as they heard it, many had tears rolling down their cheeks. Like me.
For some of the kids, it was like watching a miracle happen. Just the body language was astonishing. From stiff and cold, braced for this time of torture....a slow melting...postures relaxed, faces reddened, sometimes tears.
I found myself wondering what the kids were thinking. Many of them have very wealthy parents; they're basically raising themselves, monitored to some extent by a maid or housekeeper. When I ask for prayer requests in my classes, it's rare to have a day when someone doesn't ask for pray for a parent who's traveling internationally, often for weeks or even months at a time.
And even for the kids who have great parents, how often do they hear words like these? How often do any of us hear them? Precious, sincere expressions of love and thankfulness. Drops of honey, falling from parents' lips onto the starved lives of their children. Water in the desert.
We love you so much.
We are so thankful that God gave you to us.
We love your smile; your kind spirit; your hard work at school; your awesome talent for tennis, your unique sense of style; your dedication to skateboarding; your kindness toward your little sister; your innocence; your perseverance; your honesty; your humor.
Thank you for letting us be a part of your life.
We pray that you will keep fighting.
We hope that you will be successful.
We desire for you to be a strong man or woman of God.
We know we only have four more years with you, and we already mourn the day you'll leave.
I started thinking. Everyone needs this. Everyone needs someone who thinks you're better than you are. Everyone needs SOMEONE in their life who views them through such deep love that the realities get distorted. Such deep love that no matter what, you are the best to them. No one does THAT as well as you. No one thinks or sings or creates or writes or explains or plays or whatever....not as well as you.
You are the best to me. You couldn't possibly be more important to me. I couldn't possibly love you any more than I already do. No matter what. No matter when, or where. Or what you mess up. Or how many times you hurt me.
I. Love. You.
And as I sat there, working my way through several tissues, my butt and heart getting sore, my Father quietly whispered to my heart.
Leslie, I love you like that. Better than that, in fact. I love you the best. The most. No matter what. Even though you hurt me. Even though you're imperfect. I couldn't possibly love you more than I already do. You are my child. I made you like you are, on purpose. You're not too much. You're not not enough. You're exactly the way I want you to be. And I. Love. You.
Wow.
