Dear Hunter,
Today you are officially a teenager. Welcome to year 13. Let’s take a look back at this past year to
see how far you’ve come.
You finished out 6th grade and are now a 7th
grader. School is not something you
enjoy, but you get good grades. You care
about your schoolwork but you are not a perfectionist. The only time I have ever seen you really pour
your heart and soul into anything academic is when you have had to do a
project. You’ve built an incredible
castle, a fantastic baseball stadium replica, and written some pretty amazing
stories. You like to do well. But I’m also glad to see that you are not
consumed by getting perfect grades.
You have spent a lot of time farming (both in gaming form
and with toy tractors and with actual life-size equipment). You are a farm toy expert. You know stats and information about all
kinds of equipment. I like to consider
myself someone who knows a thing or two about farming because I grew up on a
farm. You know far more than I do
now. The fascination with tractors and
equipment runs deep, but your heart is fully in the red tractor category. I love to listen to you talk and talk and
talk about tractors and combines and all the many implements. I look forward to the day when you can sit
down and have these talks with the one who would have LOVED to talk to you about
all of that. I sometimes imagine you and
your Grandpa sitting down and having long talks about farming. I love that you remind me of him in so many
ways.
Gaming takes up a fair amount of your time too. Like any middle school boy, you play games
that make absolutely no sense and are full of gibberish words that you then go
around saying on endless repeat. The
slang in this house is a real thing. I’ve
earned my fair share of eye rolls when I’ve tried to use that slang in our
conversations. You are not
impressed. And that’s okay. You and I have this fun relationship where we
can tease each other and laugh about it.
You seem to understand my sarcastic dry sense of humor better than
most. I seem to understand what makes a 13-year-old
boy laugh. It’s fun to banter with you.
Your relationship with your sisters is strong and deep. Reagan moved away to college a few months
ago. To say that goodbye was brutally
hard would be an understatement. It was
a huge adjustment for all of us. For you
it was tough because so often she was the one who would play those nonsense online
games with you. You have a special bond
with her. It’s fun to watch the two of
you interact because it’s almost like you have your own language. Maddie is still here though that time is
dwindling too. You like to tease her. She likes to tease you. There’s this foundational trust between the
two of you. You take care of each other
in ways that I like to see.
Growing up with two sisters and no brothers has made you
into this certain kind of boy. You aren’t
phased when they drop a kiss on your head.
You aren’t thrown off by big emotions.
You understand how to be kind to a girl.
Various girl-related topics are not at all disturbing to you in any way,
shape or form. I think in the long run
this is making you into a kid who has a compassion and gentleness that not everyone
carries with them in the world.
We went through the Holocaust Museum this summer in
Washington, D.C. I knew it would be a
journey for each of us, but I watched you closely as you went through. I watched your face. Your eyes were often wide in disbelief. There were times when you asked me if certain
things had really happened. And then you
would just shake your head when I would quietly explain the atrocities that had
occurred. I could see that it didn’t sit
well with you (as well it shouldn’t). But
I knew you well enough to know that it bothered you a little more because you
truly are a kind kid. You don’t treat
others badly. In fact, when there are
situations where there is a tough kid you have chosen to be kind and inclusive
rather than mean and spiteful. I really
like this about you. I hope its
something you always carry with you in the world.
Basketball is something you enjoy. You are a long-range shooter and a good
defender. You spend a lot of time on the
basketball court near our house. It
annoys you greatly when none of the shots are falling. But when the shots are falling, you can’t
miss. Dad likes to tell a story about
how he took you to shoot one evening.
There were some kids playing on half the court. You walked onto the court and launched three
huge long-range three pointers that you absolutely drained. Those kids just stood and stared at you. Basketball is a tough sport the older you
get. The competition for playing time
becomes this whole thing. I don’t know
what the future holds for you on the court.
But I know that I enjoy watching you play right now. I like your toughness and determination. I like your team-player mindset. I like your drive to compete.
We can’t talk about sports without talking about your
biggest love: baseball. I won’t forget
what happened this past summer for a very very long time – maybe never. Countless hours of practice with the
team. Throwing with your Dad every
single day. So so so much time in the
cage or on a diamond with a bat in your hands.
You are far from the biggest player on the team, but your hard work and
personal practice time made an enormous impact.
Your team is Pella Sting. There
were tournaments all spring and summer.
Some went well. Some didn’t. It was a solid season. But when the State Tournament brackets came
out – we all groaned. They had placed
Sting in the Elite bracket – which meant you would have to play the best teams
in the whole state. Yikes. No one thought that would go well.
So we showed up that first hot day, layered on the
sunscreen, slapped on the eyeblack, tied the cleats, set out our lawnchairs and
umbrellas and watched Sting win the first game.
And then you won the second game.
And then the third. For three
days we sat there, your families, watching you and your teammates play the best
baseball you have ever played. It was
hard to fathom.
I try occasionally to explain to someone what watching Sting
play ball is like. I’ve seen many first-time
watchers show up expecting to see an almost Little League-like team. I like watching their eyes pop open in wide
amazement as they see you boys warm up.
You throw so so so hard. As the
game goes on those first-time watchers will say, “This is incredible. I can’t believe they are this good.” You play center field. You catch anything catchable and even some
that aren’t. When the other team hits a
pop fly into center field, my heart rate actually calms down. I know you’ll get it. And you do.
Through those three outrageously hot days we sat and sweated
(not just heat-related). And you guys
did it. You won. I will soak in that smile on your face for
the rest of my life. There were battles
on those fields – keeping the emotions in check while still playing your heart
out. You did that masterfully. Even when something didn’t go your way, you
never gave up. You guys fought together
for each other.
Life is that way too.
Things don’t always go your way.
Sometimes a friend hurts you.
Sometimes you bomb a test.
Sometimes you miss an opportunity.
Sometimes you lose. But you keep
going. That’s one of the things I love
the most about you, Hunter. You don’t
quit. There will be major
disappointments along the way – huge frustrations in your future – painful moments
from which I want to protect you. But
don’t stop. Keep your faith in
focus. Try. Then try again. Then try again.
God has these great plans for you. You are growing into the guy He created you
to be. All those big wins are a part of
that. All the big losses are too. So stay the course. Follow His game plan. It takes practice. You are no stranger to practice. But the practice makes those faith muscles
stronger.
I have loved watching you grow over these 13 years. I look forward to watching you for the next 13…and
many more.
Happy Birthday Hunter!
I love you!
~Mom
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