Matthew’s Year of Doing Hard Things Part 1

He comes to me, on the second day of the year he turns thirteen, his arms around his big brown teddy we named Mr. Brown, and  says in a statement that is more like a question: “It’s time to say goodbye.” Then he goes back to his room and returns with the rest of his stuffed “babies”—“Babba,” the blue lamb with the Jesus Loves You print that I gave him one Christmas, “Teddy,” his first ever teddy bear; his white “Love Bear,”the one that was given by his Dad to me on a Valentine’s Day, “Mr. Fishy,” the raggedy blue fish that he salvaged from his Tita’s house, “Purple Baby,” two  small, purple cush pillows  stuffed inside a custom-made pillow case, “Cozu,” the red monkey he adopted from Cozumel; “Mr. Monkey,” a powder blue stuffed toy, (another Christmas gift), and  courageously fighting back tears he declares that it’s time. And I ask him if he’s sure that he’s ready, that he did not have to do it if he’s not.  He says he wants to do it, with tears welling in his eyes.

So he kisses each one and they kiss him back goodbye -- the ones who shared his bed, his hugs and kisses; the ones who shared those  hushed, holy moments at night when his head touches his pillow and his mind drifts into dreams.  To everyone he says goodbye, but for his precious, faded most beloved of all --“Blue Baby” -- whose time I knew has not yet come.

Midway through the second month of the year he turns thirteen he goes alone on a day-long field trip to Disney. This time he’s so excited -- waking up  at 4:00 am does not faze him. Later in the day I get an unexpected text from him that reads: “first roller-coaster ride”. This boy, whose middle name is “cautious”, who all these years dared not, has dared to do. After conquering his Space Mountain he texts me: “Do we have to go camping? I am so tired. Eight hours of walking.”  I text back  “ Tough it out and be a man.”

So we pick him up from Disney, exhausted-looking and asking for a shower; his pockets jiggling with coins; having spent almost all his money on junk food, and all his energy waiting in lines, and rides and all the other fun stuff boys left to themselves all day on their own at Disney would do.

And we drive two hours from Disney to primitive camp, to tent-pitching in the dark. This boy --whose day started in the early morning hours, through a 3 1/2  hour bus ride, and a day roaming the park under the heat of  the Florida sun --  sleeps in a tent; no shower, no comfy bed, at almost midnight, to wake up in the early morning, day two, and a hike on the Florida trail… an unlikely hiker in his air Jordan  sneakers and thin socks. This kid treks  nine miles  on  a few bites of ham and chocolate milk.

This boy who claims exhaustion on  a regular walk in the mall, comes to camp, legs wobbly perhaps, but by God’s grace, still standing. 

To complete his ten miles, he walks around the park lot in the dark, cold drizzle, for several loops, one foot after the other, on his seeming   “Death March” and at the end of that mile, by God’s grace, he is still standing. And  he goes to bed with blisters in his private part, and wakes up to the same on the  third day:  no showering, little sleep, sticky in all different places, legs aching, half-hungry and by God’s grace, he is still standing.

At the end of it all, we are home, and he asks  me: “Am I tough now, Ma?”  And I could only say what any proud mom would say.  I say that he has stepped out of his comfort zone and done hard things. I am so unbelievably impressed and proud.  The smile on his face tells me exactly how he feels. I give him a high five. Many high fives.

The journey to doing hard things is difficult and fraught with challenges, and he is just starting.  There is nothing too hard for His Lord.