Prayers for my son
Roark and Reia surprised me this weekend, helping celebrate my 80th birthday. It was a wonderful time. We spent hours and hours in the pool. Reia does so love the water. She is an absolute of joy.
Roark is a remarkable young man. Everything he does he does with his whole heart, mind, and soul, with full commitment and attention. I remember my sister Solveig commenting on that focus when he was a toddler, “I’ve never seen a little one who could focus so much energy playing with a few stones.”
We entered him into a Suzuki violin program when he was three and so enjoyed watching him develop a great ear for music. In elementary school he switched to trumpet. He practiced three hours at a session. In high school he made all state band all four years. That’s the kind of kid he was. I have been so blessed.
When Roark was five, we took him to Lompoc, California to watch my brother launch the last in a long line of his Delta Rockets. It was a glorious launch. The rocket tail streaming through the night sky was a sight to behold. The next day my brother took us back to the launching pad and Roark got to climb into the towers and tour the block house where the engineers sat controlling the launch. He made up his mind that day that he too would be an engineer.
When Roark registered for his freshman year of high School, he realized that if he would register for both jazz and concert band every year, he would not be able to get all the math he would need to prepare him for his engineering program in college, so he decided to get a head start by taking college algebra during the summer after 8th grade graduation.
The problem was that the summer school program started on Monday, and he didn’t graduate until Wednesday. Consequently, by the first day of class he had already missed three sessions of summer school which is equivalent to a couple of weeks of work in a college algebra class. He spent the entire weekend at the coffee table in the living room catching up on his homework, all day Friday, all day Saturday, finishing about 2 o’clock Sunday afternoon. That’s the kind of kid he was. I’ve been so blessed.
After college, he got married to a beautiful woman. Unfortunately, the marriage did not last, but they were blessed with a beautiful child, Reia. Roark loves being a father.
As an adult he refuses to compromise in two areas especially. He is completely devoted to being a good father and to live a healthy life, and he is and he does. The one thing that worries me is that he questions himself so much, as though his dedication, his intense focus, compromises his ability to fully engage in joyous relationships.
I believe that the relationship he is missing is his relationship with the almighty.
I was raised in the church and been searching for that relationship myself over the years. I used to think that the Bible was largely metaphorical, a guide to the good life. I bought into the whole evolution thing, but the more I search and study, the more I recognize that the Bible is a remarkable web of truth. Truths of science discovered in recent years and recent unearthing of historical truths, especially those brought to light by Nehemiah Gordon’s recalculation of the original Hebrew calendar, have revealed that those some 66 books of the Bible written by a couple dozen authors over a period of thousands of years are stunningly interwoven with historical truth. My solemn prayer is that my son will find that kind of joy.
Roark and Reia surprised me this weekend, helping celebrate my 80th birthday. It was a wonderful time. We spent hours and hours in the pool. Reia does so love the water. She is an absolute of joy.
Roark is a remarkable young man. Everything he does he does with his whole heart, mind, and soul, with full commitment and attention. I remember my sister Solveig commenting on that focus when he was a toddler, “I’ve never seen a little one who could focus so much energy playing with a few stones.”
We entered him into a Suzuki violin program when he was three and so enjoyed watching him develop a great ear for music. In elementary school he switched to trumpet. He practiced three hours at a session. In high school he made all state band all four years. That’s the kind of kid he was. I have been so blessed.
When Roark was five, we took him to Lompoc, California to watch my brother launch the last in a long line of his Delta Rockets. It was a glorious launch. The rocket tail streaming through the night sky was a sight to behold. The next day my brother took us back to the launching pad and Roark got to climb into the towers and tour the block house where the engineers sat controlling the launch. He made up his mind that day that he too would be an engineer.
When Roark registered for his freshman year of high School, he realized that if he would register for both jazz and concert band every year, he would not be able to get all the math he would need to prepare him for his engineering program in college, so he decided to get a head start by taking college algebra during the summer after 8th grade graduation.
The problem was that the summer school program started on Monday, and he didn’t graduate until Wednesday. Consequently, by the first day of class he had already missed three sessions of summer school which is equivalent to a couple of weeks of work in a college algebra class. He spent the entire weekend at the coffee table in the living room catching up on his homework, all day Friday, all day Saturday, finishing about 2 o’clock Sunday afternoon. That’s the kind of kid he was. I’ve been so blessed.
After college, he got married to a beautiful woman. Unfortunately, the marriage did not last, but they were blessed with a beautiful child, Reia. Roark loves being a father.
As an adult he refuses to compromise in two areas especially. He is completely devoted to being a good father and to live a healthy life, and he is and he does. The one thing that worries me is that he questions himself so much, as though his dedication, his intense focus, compromises his ability to fully engage in joyous relationships.
I believe that the relationship he is missing is his relationship with the almighty.
I was raised in the church and been searching for that relationship myself over the years. I used to think that the Bible was largely metaphorical, a guide to the good life. I bought into the whole evolution thing, but the more I search and study, the more I recognize that the Bible is a remarkable web of truth. Truths of science discovered in recent years and recent unearthing of historical truths, especially those brought to light by Nehemiah Gordon’s recalculation of the original Hebrew calendar, have revealed that those some 66 books of the Bible written by a couple dozen authors over a period of thousands of years are stunningly interwoven with historical truth. My solemn prayer is that my son will find that kind of joy.
I expressed that concern to my friend, Michael Dovi and his response is a song in my heart.
"My mother blessed me every single time I left her presence. I could hear her whispered prayer as I walked away. What a proud piece of dung I was, always brushing her whisper off with my haughty, “God helps those who help themselves."
“Each and every one of those mother son whispered prayers would later spring forward and bloom in my life as the Holy Spirit convicted me after she was long gone.
"Thanks Mom!
Keep pressing out prayers for your son.”
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