Making a Believer

Now that it's pretty much B and me (except for school), I try to get us out on the weekends to see, well, someone besides B and me!

So far we have been pretty successful. 

It's hard for us to get sick of each other if we have other people to see. And it's good for both of us to be out of our element. A change in perspective keeps our brains young, learning and able to troubleshoot.

This last weekend we went to Hunter's Point. Always a winner for both of us. He's tall and strong enough now to hike the trail toward the point. We don't always make it all the way, but he sure gives it!

There are some spots where he'll stop and say, "Mummy! Oh no! What do we do? Hold my hand!" and then we conquer together. I'm pretty honored to be a part of that with him.

His little self perched near the shoreline

Although we do each need a break from each other for balance, when I stop and think about it, there really is nothing more meaningful to me at this stage of the game than being a part of his life in that way.

Being adventurous, conquering obstacles and seeing new places all help him build a foundation for believing in himself, getting stronger and becoming brave.

I sure believe in him. And, quite honestly, I think most people do by now. But to see him believe in himself is a great reward, not only for me, but for him.

He is going to do great things in this world. Just like any of us can. Believing is achieving.

Let's start there.

Taking It All In

I have to tell you about this moment I had with Brady P last week.  Well, Brady P. and the greatest freshwater lake in the world.

The air was chilly and breezy, but I knew we could handle it.  As long as we bundled up... and I brought a blanket to sit on because it snowed a bit that morning.

B loves Hunter's Point, so whenever I tell him we're going there, he complies with all the necessary prep like getting his jacket and boots on and getting into the van.  

I drove to Hunter's Point to get us out of the house for a bit.  And see that beautiful lake.

We walked down the boardwalk to the lakeshore.  At the end, of course, we got hit with a facefull of wind. 

"Brrrrrr!" I shivered.  "Good thing we have a blanket!"

I let him pick our path to the shore.  He likes to make decisions.  And when we got to just the right spot, I laid down our blanket.  I sat on one end and he sat on the other.

You know what we did then?  

We became one with the waves.

You've probably heard me talk about this before.  Brady P. has this fascination with the rhythm of the waves and the force with which they break and splash.  He will sit there mesmerized as his body works into little convulsions with each crash.

I have grown quite fond of this characteristic of his, so I have started doing it too.  I let my body get all excited when a nice looking wave rolls to the shore.  Then I shake and tense up just as it crashes with my eyes and mouth wide open.

It probably looks so silly.

Especially when we both do it.

But that's what we did!

And then he crawled onto my lap.  I covered his little legs with his end of the blanket and snuggled him in my arms to keep us warm.

Then we watched the waves together.

Oh, I should tell you that the beach that day was carved out pretty low, so the waves broke just below our head height.  We were sitting quite close to the water level, so it almost seemed like we were floating on the lake too.

It was so cool.

But I honestly think that was one of the most special times we had out there together.  He didn't throw a single rock.  We just watched each wave come in with the utmost curiosity, excitement and respect.  Cuz we got sprayed a couple times!

And there I was with the world's sweetest little angel boy in my lap as our bodies shook together with each roll and crash.  Then we would look at each other and silently agree that that was a super good one, and then look out at the lake again to watch the next wave.

Silently.  Respectfully.  Curiously.  Understood.

It was really so magical that I knew I had to tell you about it even when we were still out there.  It was a few days ago, so I can't do the moment justice.

But one of the oddest parts to me was that he did not pick up a single rock to throw.  Not one!  And he's my little rock chucker.  

Not that day!

That day we took it all in.  Sometimes you have to do that.

You know full well that this is not a picture of Hunter's Point.  Nor was it taken last week.  But hey, I had to slap on a picture of her Majesty somehow!

Trail Coordination

I do a lot of different things here in the Harbor.  And actually, so do most people who live here.  It's just what we do!

Two main things I do are raise Brady P. and coach mounting biking.

Those things may seem quite different from each other, but today, while traversing the trail to Hunter's Point beach with him, I saw how much they are the same.

Imagine you are in the Hunter's Point parking lot.  There are a couple ways to get to the beach, right?  You can take that boardwalk close to the shore, which is what we (and most people) usually do, or you can go in at that little trail just west of the boardwalk.

Since Brady P. was already hoofing it west, we decided to take that trail.

As a woman with strong, nimble legs, that trail is exciting and fun to hike.  For a more delicate person or, say, a tiny boy who is still learning balance and building strength, that trail is quite challenging -- even impossible in spots.

That totally translates to learning to mountain bike.  

I imagined that walking those conglomerate rock drops for him would look riding some of those big conglomerate drops on the mountain bike trails for me.  It's a paralleled situation.

So many times I have ridden to a rock or obstacle on my bike only to stop and get off, saying, "Nope.  Not today!" and walked my bike down.

Whether it was fear of falling or the realization that I didn't have the skills, coordination, strength or balance to traverse that obstacle that day, I decided to walk.

I watched Brady P. do that same mental evaluation today.

In some spots, he looked down and lifted his little feet over the roots and rocks either slowly and carefully or with quick confidence.  He knew he could do it somehow.  Some spots, however, were too steep for him, so he sat down and slid on his bum to a safer spot.  

As I watched him, I didn't give encouragement.  Nor I didn't say, "Oh, be careful!"  I just let him do what he thought was best, and observed his strengths and the areas he needs to improve on.  Some are mental, and some are physical.  But he did it all safely.

It seems to me that he knows what he can do and what he's not ready for.  But I can guarantee that it won't be long before he will do that whole trail without sitting down. He is determined. 

Just like me when I conquered the Red Trail on my bike.

Not hiking, but showing you how cool he is!

"Big Waves"

It's August in the Harbor.  If you have ever visited or worked here during this month, you know it's a madhouse.  People come here to "get away," but in August they are here with everyone else trying to get away.  It's always been a paradox to me, but labeling it does no good. 

I just have to get away myself.

So last week, Brady P. and I went out to Hunter's Point.  We hadn't been there in a few weeks because, well, everyone else was there too!

But the Isle Royale Queen had just come back to the Harbor for the day, so I knew beach goers were waning.  And something inside me told me to go.

On our way to the shore from the parking lot, I tried to direct little man to the shore.  I always prefer if he travels on his own accord, even if it's heavily influenced by my words and direction.

We walked by a convertible with the top down, and the couple entering it exclaimed, "Big waves!" to Braeden to get him excited.  Then to me,  "Have you been down there?"

"Not today," I answered, knowing every day is different on the shore.

That day was more then different.

It was magical.

A peaceful looking man was seated in the boulders by the stairs, so we veered left a ways to give him some space.  There might have been a few rock hounds further down, but that I don't remember.

B and I sat down in the still warm, smooth rocks that comprise the beach.  The sun was to our left and slightly behind us -- about three hours before setting.  And the cliff-laiden shore stood wet and proud to our right.

Why was it wet?  The waves were coming in just right to smack those faces hard, delivering superior waterworks over 20 feet high.  They crashed with loud smacking sounds and sent droplets flying in a majestic way.

And we were seated between the sun and the splashes.  Do you know what happens in that perspective?

Rainbows, my friend.

Not only did we watch high smacking splashes, the droplets closest to the lake reflected rainbows.  Now, if you know me at all, you know that I love rainbows.  

I was instantly awed and humbled.  In disbelief.

Wow, wow, WOW!

The only thing that really captivated our attention away from this perfectly timed rainbow spectacle were the waves themselves.

The translucent aqua waves of Lake Superior rolled in at great heights like they often do on a fall day.  Except instead of watching lackluster waves that the gray autumn brings, they were illuminated by the sun, flaunting their turquoise hues.

As always, Brady P. was mesmerized by their rhythm, sound and ability to change as they broke over themselves.  (Okay, I'm not sure exactly what captivates him because he has never verbalized it.  This is just my guess.)

He stood there in his sweetly observant posture: standing up straight, hands clasped behind his back and eyes out to sea, following the next wave to arrive.  So still.  This pose alone is enough to show me that he has so much going on inside his brain and spirit.  I can tell he was awed and humbled like I was.

Then, all the sudden, one of those waves would come up a little further than any of the others had come before.  "Eeeek!" I would squeal as we both wondered if we're about to get licked.

Then we looked at each other and giggled hysterically.  We both loved every minute.

Brady P. didn't even throw many rocks that day.  The foaming waves absorbed any visible splashes, but we were also both so enthralled by the energy and beauty around us that we didn't have to make our own.  We were simply observers awed by Mother Nature.

Time stood still for that -- however long we were there.  And amongst the chaos of still August when I can't even get my van out of my driveway sometimes, I can reflect on that time that stood still in those great moments of beauty and connectedness... with the little boy who changed my life.