One Last Bedtime Story for My College-Bound Baby Boy

My oldest son, Ben, goes off to college tomorrow morning and I cannot believe it. To say I'm overwhelmed is a vast understatement. Today I need to write about it in an attempt to release some of these overwhelming and electrical emotions that have flowed through me these past few weeks. So, I'll sit here now and write the bedtime story that Ben and I created together when he was just about two years old.

Ben would snuggle up to me on my lap on the rocking chair in his bedroom. The room was lit only with the miniature sky-blue nightlight, and the air was always filled with the soothing baby-lotion scent that all parents know very well. We'd look out his window and see the moon, which is where the story begins. 

Ben would snuggle even closer and look up at me and smile, reassuring me that he was as in love with me as I am with him. My goodness, the love. That look.

I would then tell him our bedtime story, which went something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Ben, who loved the moon. Ben would look at the moon at night and tell his father, "I'm going to go visit the moon."

Ben's father would say, "But we'll miss you so much if you go to the moon." And Ben would say, "But I'll come back."

So, Ben loaded up his spaceship and counted down to blast off. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one ... up to the moon!

The spaceship went up, up and away, up to the stars, and Ben's parents watched and waved, and Ben waved back from the window of the spaceship.

Once on the moon, Ben jumped from the ship and walked around. He picked up moon rocks and lots of other very cool things he found on the moon and he put them in a box. When he was finished, he got back into the spaceship and counted down again. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one ... blast off back to earth!

From the spaceship, Ben could see his parents waiting as the spaceship got closer to earth. He waved and smiled. They waved and smiled back. When the ship landed, Ben jumped out and ran up to his parents and hugged them tightly.

Ben showed his parents all the cool things he found on the moon. His parents were so happy that he had found so many fun things and had a really great adventure. And, they were very happy Ben came home and brought those things with him to share with them.

Ben hugged his parents again and told them, "I love you Mommy and Daddy. I told you I'd come back."

That made his parents very happy. They hugged him back and said, "We're glad you came back, and we love you very, very much, Ben."

And they all lived happily ever after.

That was the story I told Ben way back then, and it's the story I write for him on the eve of his larger-than-life and very real adventure. 

Son, go now and open your heart and your mind and enjoy the upcoming fantastic voyage. Go to the moon and fill your box with magical experiences and more!

We know you'll come back, Ben. We'll definitely be waiting to hear all about it upon your return. 

And we're sure we will all live happily ever after.

God's Letter to Me, Before I was Born

I speak of God occasionally, but have never dedicated an entire blog piece to my Higher Power. I can't explain my God, and I don't need to. That's something the Ego wants me to attempt, and the Ego's actions always lead to frustration. I only need to feel and have faith that someone beyond explanation is watching over me. 

I recently imagined what my God might say to me about my life. That thought led to the letter below, written by my God to me, prior to my birth. It's obviously in my words, but these words come from the soul, where I'm sure my God resides.

If the idea of a God offends you, that's fine. If the idea of a God appeals to you, that's fine. Either way, perhaps this letter will touch another in some small way and inspire him or her to find peaceful bliss.

Dear Todd:

I'd like to explain a few things about your upcoming life that I think you should know. You might wonder how—and especially why—certain events are going to happen, but please try not to fret over this. I know it’s going to be a challenge not to worry, but I do have a plan for you. Trust me.

You’re going to be brought into this world facing some serious difficulties. Your mother will be the first person you love. Your stepfather will be the first person you fear. I'll be there in both instances, to help you recognize and appreciate the love and to offset the overwhelming pain your stepfather will cause to not only you, but to your entire family. It might not seem like it at times, Todd, but I'll be with you throughout it all. Don’t ever forget that. Trust me.

You'll grow up with some significant insecurities and emotional wounds, but you’ll eventually heal. You'll hurt in a way you could never expect, but you will heal in a way you could never imagine. You'll run from the pain and occasionally mistakenly think that you've gotten past it, but the wounds will still be open. It's just part of the grand process—the aforementioned plan I have for you—in my time. Please know that I'd never let you remain wounded forever. I'll care for those wounds like they're my own. I know a few things about pain and suffering, and I won’t let yours last ... the same way my father didn’t let mine last. Trust me.

It won't all be painful, Todd. You'll have lots of beautiful experiences and you'll meet some wonderful souls throughout your life—souls who will love and nourish you and make you laugh and smile—especially when you need smiles the most. One of those souls will be your grandmother. I'll keep you two very close, connected from the start and for eternity. I've already spoken to her about you, and she joyously awaits your arrival. She knows her task and she'll perform it with love unlike any other mortal possibly could. She'll carry you because I will carry her. Trust me.

When you’re ready and it’s time, I'm also going to bless you with a patient and loving wife and three beautiful soul-filled sons. The most profound love you will ever feel will be that which you give to and receive from those boys. Nurture them like they're me. Because, Todd, they are me. And I am them. Trust me.

Yes, Todd, it's going to be quite the adventure. And, it will culminate—and don't let this startle you—when you crash into me and crumble into a million pieces. The crumbling really is the only way, for as you break so will all that past conditioning and long-held-onto pain. Todd, the gift I want for you is hidden inside all the assembled pieces, beyond what you’ve seen. So I’m going to shake it up. For you. For me. Trust me.

You’ll see a light resting among the shattered ruins -- a light so bright you’ll barely be able to look at it. That light is your soul, Todd. And, when you find it, you’ll have found that wonderful gift. You’ll have found me, because that’s where I reside ... in your soul. Once that happens, you’ll begin to understand the plan I have for you. The plan for you to enjoy a peace the world can neither give nor take away. It's bliss. It's your birthright. And you will find it. Trust me.

Basically, Todd, your life will evolve in three stages:

1) The will of others for you.

2) Your will.

3) My Will for you.

As you will learn, My Will is by far the best of these three. Hang on, my beloved Todd. While the ride might seem unbearable at times through the first two stages, the final enlightening stage is the stuff that dreams are made of—the stuff that I’m made of. When you find this bliss, please share it with others because they also need to know that it’s attainable. Give them hope so they can find their souls, their bliss. You can show them how. You can inspire them. Trust me.

From there, I simply want you to Be Still, Todd. All will be well. There are miracles in every moment that awaits. Trust me.

Every Parent Knows This Feeling

If you're a parent ... you've felt it.

Remember that heart-piercing that struck you as your small child walked into his or her very first day of school? You couldn't quite tell if you were happy or sad or if you would laugh or cry. It's beyond words, isn't it?

As a parent, you've been there.

And now we're here -- at least I am. I've been fast-forwarded 13 years from that first day of school to the rapidly-approaching day when Benjamin, my first-born and no-longer-small child, will walk out of his school building after his very last day of school. Benjamin is now Ben, a mature, kind-hearted young man who will soon be 18 and donning his graduation cap. He's a good person. And I couldn't be a prouder poppa.

As Ben's high-school senior year wraps up I've been reflecting on its many moments. I've enjoyed watching it all, even though the aforementioned heart-piercing accompanied many of those moments.

There was the final time drumming with the band on the football field.

We loved the golf season during which we shared many post-round stories about birdies and the dreaded double-bogey.

Oh yes, I have to mention the great basketball season in which Ben, often times the smallest kid on the court, demonstrated a will and desire for the game that I've admired since he started playing.

And, most recently, the final basketball game after which Ben and his six senior teammates shared hugs and tears on the court. Those were hugs and tears that spilled out into the stands among parents.

I think that's when it really hit me. It hit me so hard later that night after the final basketball game. My Benjamin -- I mean, Ben -- is all grown up and he'll soon be forging his own life path. I'm both happy and sad. I'm laughing, and I'm definitely crying.

I decided to write this blog because I knew it would help me sort through my own thoughts and emotions about all of this. Writing always does that for me. But, these words also enable me to let Ben know just how much I've cared about his life and how much I will always care. So here I sit writing, remembering, laughing ... and crying.

Indeed, I'm proud of my son and all that he's accomplished. I'm also excited for him because of all the the wonderful experiences that await him. College is on the doorstep. New friends will appear. Growth is inevitable, as are the occasional hard-knock life lessons.

In another 13 years I'm sure I'll sit down and write another blog about Ben and his life and our lives and so many things that will happen. I dare not try to project what will occur in the coming years because I learned long ago to try to stay in every moment. For the most part, I've been able to do that throughout Ben's life. I didn't want to miss a thing. I didn't, and I'm oh so grateful for that. Truly, it's been a wonderful ride.

I'll close sharing a cherished memory from long ago when Ben was about 3 years old. I left for work early while he was still sleeping. As I backed out of the driveway in my car I looked toward the front door and saw Ben standing in the window crying very hard and waving at me. He had awakened and wanted to hug me goodbye, and he thought he had missed the opportunity. I quickly stopped and ran back into the house for that hug. It made my day. It made my life.

Today, I stand many times watching from my window as Ben pulls out of the driveway. I sometimes shed a tear and wish he'd see me and stop ... and come running back in to give me one more hug before he goes.