GROWING MEN

Remember my Dear Sons post the other day? About always helping other people when they are moving…. no matter what?

When I wrote that little did I know that the sweet opportunity to help someone move would be just around the corner. And that dad would be unavailable to take son. But since the move was announced in church for all young men and grown men to be there…. I knew my son would be.

And I also knew that if I didn’t take him, after I had just wrote the Dear Sons post, that I would have to walk the walk of shame…and trust me, I couldn’t live with that.

So he and I went together and I am telling you what a sight to behold. Many men and many young men there to help move. Maybe even over twenty men. And a lot of the young men came alone. Just to help. No grownups forcing them there.

I love watching men work. There is just something about men. They are so naturally capable. Hard working. So united without really communicating much. (Which is why Corey and I can NEVER move anything without fighting. I need words people! Words! Is it really so hard to say lift your side up a little higher? Really?) But guys don’t seem to need that. They just get it somehow.

So we helped to move for a few hours and I was thrilled inside that he was rubbing shoulders with these other honest to goodness good men and soaking in their example.

At one point there was a man chain of maybe 15 men going from the moving truck, down the basement stairs, into the basement. With boxes just pouring through the chain and into the basement. It was some kind of fast moving.

I loved it when the older man who was standing above the younger boy on the stairs would say things like “Brace yourself, Cowboy” or “plant your feet” when a heavy box was coming. Just pure goodness was abounding the whole time. It felt like I was witnessing something sacred. Honest it did.

I loved it when I would try to help and they would about run through me because they didn’t want me touching any box that might be heavy. I felt like such a lady getting to stand there and just help give directions of where to put the boxes.

When it was time to go, my sweet friend was thanking me for coming and thanking me for bringing my son. There were no thanks needed.

I told her I wanted him to come and see how to be a man.

And trust me he did!