It's been a hockey weekend at our little sanctuary. A President's Day Tournament meant four games spread out over Saturday and Sunday, and a team get-together at our house in between games. After a disappointing loss in the first game, our band of boys pulled together for an exhilarating victory in the next one.
AND GRAYSON SCORED HIS FIRST HAT TRICK EVER!
It was a moment of glory for a defenseman, who gets to skate a lot but has few opportunities to score. His third goal came in the final 25 seconds of a tie game, making me forget that I was holding the video camera while I pounded on the glass and yelled "THAT'S MY SON!" He was mobbed by his teammates, crowned the hero of the game. It was every parent's dream moment for their kid and it was sweet.
I think about all the games he's tried so hard to score and missed every time. I think about the games we've lost and sat in silence on the long road home. And I think about the unexpected beauty of seeing your kid shine for a single moment at the end of a game, where everything comes together into a picture of perfection: a slow-motion experience that ends with cheers and congratulations. Oh, my.
Later that night as I tucked him into bed, he whispered to me, "Mom, I still can't believe I did it." Through the darkness I could see his sleepy smile.
I looked at him, my third-born, my own hat-trick baby. To have one child is a miracle. To have two is beyond words. And to be given a third, well. It's wonder, exhilaration, excitement and gratitude. In a life where there are no guarantees, he is more than I ever could have hoped for.
I smiled back at him.
I know the feeling.
