His story is going to be different from mine.

It was a Wednesday night at the Urgent Care, after X-rays revealed two fractures, when the realization struck:

My son is not just an extension of me; he is his own person and he is going to have his own life experiences, some of which I won’t be able to relate to. His story is going to be different from mine.

Just because something is obvious doesn’t mean it can’t be profound. And it hit me squarely in the heart.

****

I have never broken a bone. I rarely get sick, and I rarely got in trouble. That’s not revisionist history; I’ve just a natural-born goody two-shoes with a sturdy immune system and an aversion to high-impact activities.

The writing is already on the wall with my son. At 2, his personality and proclivities are becoming more and more defined—and, oh my, it’s something to behold. He is rough and tumble. If you tell him to be quiet at the dinner table, he wants to yell louder. He already pushes limits in ways I never did. Timeouts happen. As do chronic ear infections and colds. He likes to run and kick and jump and scramble with Daddy. He is “all boy,” as they say.

He is not me.

We do share some things in common. We are both strong-willed and outgoing. He enjoys music and art, books and dancing, just like his mommy. There’s a distinct physical resemblance. With time, I know more similarities will rise to the surface, but for now, I’m left to wonder, “Who in the world are you going to be?”

Of course, he was never going to be a mini-me. I wouldn’t want that. You always want your kid to have the best of you and the best of your spouse. You hope they are spared your not-so-pretty shortcomings. Not to mention he will be growing up in a radically different world than 1980s America.

But maybe, up until now, the reality of him growing up to be someone so… new, so unknown, so wholly unique… hadn’t really clicked for me. And until that thought really settles in, you can’t fully fathom the degree of adventure that stretches out ahead of you. It’s unchartered territory; he is on his own path, and it’s not one you’ve traveled.

Typically, you think of someone coming “into their own” in their teens or 20s or 50s. But in that West Omaha Urgent Care, Luke Stephen Weller sort of came into his own… at least in my mind.

If you know me, you know I never just let a thought come and go. I’m always seeking the spiritual implication or application for my life. That’s how I roll. So, here are the takeaways from this one:

I can only do so much to protect my child from the hurts of this world. Lord, I am going to have to trust You to protect him.

I can only do so much to control the trajectory of his childhood. Lord, help me trust You to guide him and direct his steps.

My influence is important and will undoubtedly shape his life. However, it will not be (nor should it be) the end all/be all when it comes to who he is and who he will be. Lord, help me trust You to shape his soul, and help him to turn to You first for wisdom and love.

From the vantage point of my early 30s, I have a relatively good grasp on the story arc of my life. I know there will be some plot twists and new characters up ahead, but overall, I know the protagonist well. There is real comfort in that; I know who I am. But my son? He’s a sweet little mystery to me, unfolding and changing every day. Lord, help me trust You to write his story. I know You will make it better and richer and far more interesting than I could ever plan it. Help me relax in Your sovereignty… and embrace the adventure.

Even if that means a broken bone now and then.