My son Lucan won a big cross country invitational this weekend.
All summer, he put in the work. He trained and I was by his side. He listened, trusted, and followed through. Today when it mattered, he was the one who crossed the line first.
My heart swelled. I had to hold back tears.
Yes, the victory is so sweet, but the quiet joy of watching effort ripen into fruit is the evergreen takeaway. What lesson is more fundamental than “hard work pays off!”
I’m proud of the runner he’s become, and even more proud of the young man he’s blossoming into. My son has a lot going for him.
In walking close beside him, in the guidance, encouragement, and the act of fully witnessing, I was reminded that my influence as a father has always been about presence. I don’t ever have to wonder where the time has gone because I’m always there. I don’t miss.
Here’s the thing that chokes me up, though. The time I give him is also the time he gives me, and in that exchange we are both shaped.
