I Have So Much to Learn

The boys and I were alone last night, so instead of sitting at home, we decided to go to the marina. We walked on the loading docks and then began walking around the lake. Slowly we began to settle into a little groove under the dam, picking up rocks, looking at fossils, finding the smallest clam shell.

As I was rummaging through the rocks, I found the most perfect stone for skipping. It was flat and round and completely smooth, free of any imperfections. Immediately I held it up as a rare discovery and showed the boys my perfect stone-skipping find.

One of them piped up, asking for the stone. As I began to hand it to him, another of the boys asked for it. Since two boys asked for it, it forced me to pause a minute. During that pause, Jonah said, "Mom, you should do it. You should skip the stone."

I have gone with the boys to skip stones at least a dozen times.
I have watched Jon teach the boys, time and time again.
I have seen the boys perfect their technique and spend many hours with stones and lakes.

But never in my life have I skipped a stone.

I don't even know if I've really ever tried. And for some strange reason, at that moment, that thought really disturbed me. It caught me off guard. Me, mom of boys. Me, the 'fun' aunt. Me, the favorite babysitter. I had never even tried to skip a stone.

I know it may sound like no big deal, but to me, standing there with the perfect stone in my hand, being urged by my oldest offspring, it was a big deal.

So I decided to give it a whirl. Jonah gave me the same quick lesson his dad has been giving him for years. Same technique, same mannerisms, same encouragement.

I drew my arm back to the side and without another moment's hesitation, I let it go. It flew out into the water and bounced once, twice, three, four, and then finally, five times.

And as the circles grew larger and larger until they began to disappear, I wondered why in the world I had waited so long to try.

I pondered what other gifts I had passed off to someone else simply because I was either too lazy, too intimidated, or too busy to try.

But most of all, I marveled at the fact that I had finally given this seemingly trivial, yet terribly rewarding task a try simply because
I was invited.

There's just something special about being invited, isn't there?