gentle ben

It's been a while since I've written about our son Ben. I think I left off with him wanting to be homeschooled in a hotel. Sadly, that didn't happen, but we did have a time of homeschooling that went well.

And then a great thing happened mid-semester. Ben got bored. He wanted to be around other kids; he wanted the outside world.

We decide to send him to City School. "Ben, I just want you to know this is a safe place, our little haven away from home," said his new kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bates, the first time they met. This woman is no small answer to prayer, gentle and kind and encouraging.

Ben is the hardest working kindergartner I know. He meets with a learning specialist several times a week, and is tutored after school twice a week by his teacher, all bringing fine results. He continues to show much concentration in the things he is interested in, and a little for anything else. There is still a lot of time open for full body contact sport with brother Syd. Wrestling is back in the picture, after a recent viewing of Nacho Libre.

I watch as Ben swipes the back of Syd's head, like a bear cub looking for a thrill. Syd turns and pounces like an agile hyena on his prey, and they are off and rolling across the living room floor. 85 pounds of solid meets 63 pounds of lean, and I stand watch as I'm sure this match will lead to certain injury.

"I'm going to take you down," Ben says in a fake low voice. Syd answers with a shrill howl, showing all his teeth.

Ben is also playing basketball. Basketball is truly a spectator sport at his age.

"My favorite part is when we run out and everyone claps," he tells me. "Not because they are clapping- because I like to run."

During the game his chubby body skips down the court, hands high in the air with no one around to guard. He yells loudly for the ball and then ducks as it's thrown his way. Later he is at the wrong end of the court, in conversation with some invisible being. Laughing, face to the sky, spinning around, all while his coach is yelling for him to cover his man. I can't take my eyes off of him.

We want our boys to find the thing in life they are most passionate about; the thing they could do for 24 hours straight. I pray whatever it is, they will do it for Jesus.

John, our children's pastor comes over one evening and Ben spends 20 minutes telling John the history of his imagined superheroes Dark Super and Thunder Code, and the story of how Evil Skies turned evil.  Dark Super is "super because he fights in the dark." Somehow I know that Ben's imagination will play a big part not only now for him, but in his future.

A friend recently gave him a tour of a recording studio in Austin, and he took it all in, with little to say. This is when I know he is interested in something, as quiet overtakes silliness; his head ducked slightly in the presence of adults cracking jokes. I tell him tobyMac has a studio like this in his basement, called the Underground.

"What?!" Ben says, "does he have to dig a hole to get in there? Is it really underground?"

I love to view the world through Ben's eyes. I watch him in the rearview mirror, as he listens to Switchfoot on my iPod. He is staring out the window, his blue eyes tracking the passing sky, as he plays one song over and over. I want him to know Jesus as his best friend, and the open heavens above him, part of his playground.