He put down the putter.
We’re in a unique season of life right now. We’re trying to navigate one kid away from sharp edges and outlets, and help the other kid navigate who he’s going to be when he’s not at the dinner table or on the rugby field.
Benjamin is currently teething and a hot mess. I like to employ the distraction technique: keep everybody too busy to whine. Myself included. Yesterday I slathered sunscreen on Benjamin, strapped his fussy butt into the stroller and took Lifa and a friend to play putt putt golf beside the ocean. Mama needed to smell the ocean.
We brought along Zach, a friend we hadn’t had a playdate with yet. Zach excels at every sport. He’s the kid who’s known at being good at whatever he tries his hand at. Lifa tried to breeze past the score cards when we arrived at putt putt. He was not interested in the numbers with Zach, and Zach politely said he didn’t mind. I grabbed a score card and tiny golf pencil anyway, and off we went! Lifa had the first go, and I counted out loud. “One, two, three...” Stress strained Lifa’s handsome features.
But before Lifa took his fourth stroke, Zach positioned himself across from Lifa and set his putter at the edge of the hole so it would be impossible for Lifa to miss. Lifa scored a 4 and Zach scored a 6 on that hole. Mind blown... Not because of the score, but because of that simple act of putting down the putter.
Everything about Lifa’s physical appearance changed. A smile took over his whole body, and the tone of the whole game was set. Both boys wanted to win and played their best to do so. I even added a twist to the game to up the competition. But Zach cheered for Lifa to do his best all the way through. They laughed and they played like kids should play, without the bite of bitterness and big talk that so often colors relationships at their age. Zach gave Lifa a huge gift yesterday. He put down his putter. He played to win, but he remained, first and foremost, for Lifa.
In two weeks, Lifa and Zach will have the first day of their last year as primary school students. Grade Seven! We will send our applications out in the coming months for high school, which begins in grade eight. I’ve already started asking Lifa what he wants to be known for when he’s in high school.
This morning, I cooked breakfast, and Lifa and I took turns picking up things Benjamin threw from his high chair, We talked about the process of how you become known for something - how your actions, friend groups and interactions gradually write the story of your character. I pointed out how his interactions with Zach felt different than with some other kids. We thought about what other kids at school are known for in hopes of helping Lifa see what shapes this critical adolescent identity piece. We talked about what it means to be a “Go the Extra Mile Guy”, using the one and only Chris Ladd as our primary example. (He just happened to be off running SIXTEEN miles while we were having this discussion.) Just as we brought up Dad as the “go the extra mile guy”, I pulled out a bag of kale that Chris had obsessively sealed for freshness. I pointed out to Lifa as I untaped and unrolled the greens. “Dad goes the extra mile in everything, right down to putting groceries away.”
Finding your identity and becoming who you want to be can be daunting for anyone. Lifa’s had a few extra plot twists in his story, and I can easily get carried away with worries for what could be a very hard road ahead. But then another 12-year old kid put down his putter and transformed Lifa’s countenance.
Sure, there are a billion very legitimate reasons why things could be hard for Lifa... for any of us. But there are also putt putt games, breakfast conversations, and a heck of a lot of prayer. Transformation happens one hole, one laugh, on prayer, and sometimes one hard lessoned learned at a time. That’s all I have capacity to hold anyway. So today, I’m letting go of my worries, resealing the kale, and we’re going on a picnic.