The Heart of a Child

To call my 6’1, 200 pound, eighteen-year-old college football player a child is a stretch by any means, but if you’ll humor me here, there is a method to my madness.

Ask any parent and they’ll tell you that raising children takes a lot of faith; you do the best you can and hope they turn out to be sane, responsible, productive members of society.  Some days you hold your breath and pray, but on others, you are rewarded with a snapshot of the person they have become, the one you hoped they would be. Today I got to experience one of those beautiful moments when the actions of your child, literally takes your breath away.

While I was in the middle of my afternoon workout, a text message from our youngest son, Chris dropped in. He asked if I could do something for him. The brother of one of his buddies committed suicide this week. The extended family was selling brisket sandwiches to raise money for the funeral expenses. He asked if I would please go buy some. It was 2:40 and they were shutting down at 3. Keep in mind; I’m mid-work out which means I’m sweaty, stinky and basically a mess, but do you think I let that stop me? Nope. I quickly googled the address so I could get some sense of where I was going, grabbed a jacket, my purse and headed out the door.

I have twenty minutes to successfully complete this mission, with no cash and no directions. The ATM, a necessary stop, is not on the way, and I’m not even sure how much money is in the account. We purposefully keep the account balance low, but I have no time to check the balance, transfer funds, or check with my husband to see how much money is in there. I’m walking by faith here. After finding the house and successfully procuring four brisket sandwiches, I finally relax; then come the tears. I weep for the family that has suffered a loss, I weep for the young man who felt he had no other way out and I weep over the compassion displayed by my son.

Chris was over 250 miles away when he got the news, but he did not let distance stop him from taking action. He couldn’t drive home and help, but he knew someone who could. He didn’t hesitate to ask; there was a need and he acted. My child has become a man with a tender heart of compassion and I could not be prouder.

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