He didn't even look at me

The other night at my son's last baseball game he hit a triple. He hadn't been able to hit that well in some of the preceding games, for a variety of reasons, so this was a really big deal for him. And for me. When he got to third and was told to hold up he gave the coach five and jawed a bit with the third baseman...

but he didn't even look at me.

He was poised on third ready to steal home when the opportunity presented itself. His teammate Jason (#10) strode to the plate and took a few pitches. Sure enough the ball got by the catcher and the third base coach sent him running home. It was going to be close (too close for my comfort) so we urged him on as time seemed to slow down. Determined he fixed his eyes on the goal and slid beating the throw from the catcher to the pitcher who was covering the plate. He jumped up, pants and shirt full of dirt, and gave a single, dust-laden clap as he jogged towards the jubilant bench. He high-fived the coaches managing the dugout and went to take his place with his team. I was giving him a big thumbs up and had a smile on my face a mile wide...

but he didn't even look at me.

Does it hurt God? Sure, a bit, but this was his time to share with his coaches and his teammates wasn't it? This was his time to show us what he had been working towards all year and to display what he had managed to build with what his coaches had fashioned in him. This was him, growing up; this was him, being a man. This was him forgetting that I was there and having this new world and life wash over him. This is him finding joy and happiness in something other than me and my approval.

And, God, it's good isn't it? It's so very good because he is finding his life. And when I have moved on from this one I won't be there for him even if he tries to look my way.


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