HH at SZ

That’s what I text my son when I’m checking to see if he is available for happy hour at our favorite sushi restaurant. Over the years we’ve met there, sometimes planned, most of the time not, never on a regular basis. Always with the goal of spending time together, being real, sharing what we can about what is going on in our lives, holding back until the next time what we can’t yet say.

Last week we had a last minute, totally perfect HH at SZ. I wanted to give him his birthday presents. Amazingly the stars aligned and we each found 1.5 hours at the same time of day where we could make it through traffic to the same place. I got there first and snagged our favorite booth at the back. Placed a wrapped box and tissue stuffed gift bag on the table. Ordered our regular appetizers and cool drinks. And savored the moment. My grown son was coming to spend time with me, because he wanted to.

It wasn’t long before his frame appeared in the doorway – all 6’4” of him, in khaki pants and a dress shirt sporting that amazing smile and piercing gorgeous blue eyes under blonde to brown hair topped with a fedora hat. I commented on his nice clothes and he quipped, “Everything else is in the laundry.” This guy has exuded charm ever since he was 2 years old. His pre-k teachers would make excuses for him when they had to tell me he had gotten into trouble. The same charm that endeared him to his Kindergarten teacher had no effect on his 5th grade teacher (she was the exception). The same charm that kept me from killing him during his most adventurous teenage years.

We talked about his job, roommates, his call for an interview, his way past prime time SUV. And about my grandson, the light of his life and a precious boy that everyone agrees is version 2.0 of my son. He lights up when he talks about that little boy, their time together, reading bedtime stories, playing disc golf, camping and how he is unlike any 3 year old boy either of us has ever known. Including his dad. Especially when it comes to bedtime. I coach him regarding the upcoming interview. His remarkable skillset and credentials in his field continually net him these opportunities, but salary negotiation is not one of his strengths. He considers my advice. I learned long ago that he weighs everything I say – sometimes I get 2 seconds of consideration and my input goes out the window. Sometimes it gets tabled. Sometimes he sees the wisdom of it and takes it under advisement.

He says it’s time to open gifts. I tell him I wasn’t able to find the item on his list but I hope he will enjoy what I chose instead. He opens the box to find was exactly what he asked for. Then the gift bag which I assure him he can never guess in a bazillion years and sure enough he doesn’t but loves what I surprised him with. I’m still enjoying the gotcha of the box.

Mostly we laugh. Our HH’s have not always been filled with laughter, some were more serious. I am grateful for those meetings and the closeness that grew because of them. But these days there is mostly laughter, sharing of personal hopes and dreams, love of family, and catching up.

The golden thread through it all has been faith. God and prayer and hope and never give up. My son loves the Lord, has seen Him work in his life in indisputable ways. His faith journey looks very different than mine. That is how our God designed it. He created each of us, knows what we need and how we need it. For each of us He is our salvation, the constant rock, the God of second chances, the God of mercy when we need forgiveness, the God of the Bible with holy standards but also the God of grace when we come to the end of ourselves.

My son speaks of a longtime friend who is in the throes of addiction and his attempts to reach out to the young man. Not everyone wants to hear that honesty with God and self, bathed in prayer, is the solution, but we have to put it out there anyway. Planting seeds.

I think of my own past struggles and those of my son, and how our God has brought us faithfully through it all. Not because we are anything special, but because we chose to receive the gift of faith in Christ and clung to – depended on – Him when everything seemed hopeless. And here I am, with my beloved second child, willingly spending his already stretched free time with his mom. Because I asked, and because he let God nudge him that he needed that today. Grateful and blessed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel.

Like all good things, this time must end. Traffic has died down, our waitress is busy with dinner time customers and it’s time to relinquish our booth. I tell him he is free to exit by the patio where the heads of lovely young ladies would surely be turned by his crossing. But like a good son he walks me to my car after gaining my sympathy by explaining he had to park 3 blocks away. Which turns out to be in the slot right next to his truck. His gotcha this time. Twenty nine years ago his birth challenged and amazed me. He is still challenging and amazing me to this day.