09/06/2024
"When I asked my 11-year-old son to help me unload dirt from our small pickup into his motherās new garden boxes, his reaction was typical.
āUmmmmā¦ Iām busy right now,ā He said.
He was playing Roblock on the family laptop, wearing sweat pants and an old T-shirt, lounging on the sofa, feet on the coffee table.
āNo youāre not,ā I said.
There was a fight, moaning, excuses... the usual.
Moments later, we were next to a wheelbarrow shoveling dirt. He looked at me with flat eyes, his hood up, shoulders slumped, and said, āWhy do we have to do this?ā
I thought for a moment, because Iāll admit, it was a valid question. Neither of us were all that into flowers or vegetables, or any of the things that would be grown in those garden boxes. But my wife, Mel, loves gardening.
I thought, and he waited, and finally I said, āWhen you love someone, you serve them.ā
I went on, telling him that I want him to grow up to be the kind of man who serves his family, friends, and community.
āThisā I said while gesturing to the dirt, and the garden boxes I built the weekend before, and the wheelbarrow and shovel, and the first of many truckloads of dirt we would unload over the next few weeks, āIs what love looks like.ā
He didnāt like my answer. I could see it in the way he reluctantly picked his shovel back up.
We finished unloading the dirt. The next day, while I was at work, and the kids and Mel had the day off because it was between terms, Mel sent me this picture. Mel picked up another load of dirt and before she had a chance to unload it, Tristan voluntarily started working. When she asked him āwhy,ā he shrugged and said, āBecause I love you.ā
Iād never been prouder of my son.
Credit: Clint Edwards