Reigning the Passion of a Thousand Men...
My son. God blessed this creature with the passion of a thousand men and blessed me by making him mine. I am unsure what I have done in my life that would lead an all-knowing God to gift me with a brilliant, passionate soul like my Anthony. In faith, I have to believe I will be able to forge an intelligent, compassionate, kind, man from this already amazing human being, but often the task is daunting.
What if I am unable to guide this immense bundle of potential to be all that he is capable of? How do I harness the fury of an inferno without dousing the flame? Will I succeed in teaching him to stand up for what he believes in while understanding the right of others to hold opposing views? As with most things in my life; cue music: “How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?”
Never have I met a child who knows their mind and heart as clearly as he does. He concerns himself with fair trade chocolates after learning of child labor in the Ivory Coast. He worries about the environment and the preservation of ecosystems, he hurts for the underdog. His allegiance to America, The Spartans, The Lions, and The Tigers is unflinching and unapologetic.
My boy. My dear, sweet, beautiful, boy laid six sparkly dollars on the kitchen counter this weekend, to help with bills he said. The crumpled dollars sparkled with the dust of the Tooth Fairy. Without prompting, he handed his fortune to me. My Son; trying to help me as a man, while limited as a child.
I fear he is like his mother. Regardless of my guidance, he will carry the weight of others’ burdens. His heart will ache when it’s not understood, it will shatter when it’s abundant love is not returned. He will champion hopeless causes and blame himself when they don’t succeed. I fear, like me, he will live in a constant state of penitence.
While I do believe suffering is a form of prayer, a type of communion with the divine which often leads us to the light of appreciation and gratitude, I hope he finds life’s riches in other ways too. I hope he never stops appreciating the bold yellow of the spring’s first dandelion and that his eyes will always sparkle as he learns something new. I pray that he never forgets how fiercely he is loved even if that love comes in the form of my futile attempt to reign the passion of a thousand men.
