Life as part of our starkly atypical family has, for many years, made typical growing-up things like playing organized sports or participating in community activities pretty much impossible. God and I have had many discussions about this. 

I tell him, tearfully, how important I think it is and beg him to make these things possible for our kids, and he smiles at me with love and wisdom as I gradually, and once again, realize that he is making sure they all have the really, really important/crucial things they need. And I am able to trust him again. For awhile. 

It’s this somewhat cyclical routine between the two of us. I whine. He loves and teaches. And then shows me, through our amazing kids, how unquestionably right he is. He is preparing our children for life in his own perfect ways. 

This year we have, unexpectedly and with lots of transportation help from friends, been able to let Nolan try basketball. He is fifteen and has never played before. He joined a team of boys who have mostly been playing for years. This amazing group of boys took him right into their circle and began teaching him and helping him. His coach has been fantastic. And he has loved it so much. 

His sweet spirit has made friends, and one boy in particular just this past week, feeling the kindness that emanates like breath from Nolan’s heart, chose to open up to Nolan about his grief over losing his family dog a few days ago. He has only shared this loss with Nolan as they have sat and talked several times about the pain they have both experienced in losing a beloved dog, and as this boy asked Nolan to keep this to himself because he isn’t ready to talk about his pain openly with the rest of the team right now. They shared stories of their dogs and the ways in which those pets touched their lives in deep and unforgettable ways at critical times. These teen boys even cried together. And last night, when their team played their first game of the season, this friend told Nolan that he wanted to play in memory of his dog. Their team won the game 32-12, and Nolan told his friend that his dog would be proud of him. During the game, Nolan was so attuned to making sure his friend was okay that he had no idea what the score was. He focused well when he was on the court, but he never thought about the score. That’s how his heart works. 

He’ll never be a basketball star, but he is a team player and a star for sure. He is taller than a number of the other boys, and his very long arms give him advantages some of the others don’t have. But he isn’t aggressive and holds back a bit when he is playing. I assumed this was his lack of confidence due to inexperience, but last night after the game, he casually mentioned that he usually plays “kind of gently” because he knows he is bigger than many of the boys. “Some of those boys are just like little kids, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.” That’s my son. 

This boy experienced abandonment, abuse, neglect, betrayal, and hurt beyond imagination in his first seven years of life before he finally came home to us. So often, this kind of early childhood pain results in bitterness and brokenness that can be impossible to overcome. Somehow, it had the opposite effect on Nolan. It grew inside of him an infectious joy, the ability to find good in even the bleakest situations, a tenderness for others, and a deep desire to prevent or alleviate pain in every opportunity he is given. 

Scott and I were at his first game last night, and I couldn’t have been prouder. I watched every second of that game except for the moment he made a goal on a rebound. Argh! I missed that! He never even mentioned it after the game. Someone else had to give me the details of what I had missed. He only wanted to talk about his friend and the loss of his dog and the memories they shared together. I love this boy so much. He is such a gift to us and to anyone who comes in contact with him. He has so much to teach the world about the beauty of living atypically.

Here are a few action shots I did manage to capture of our son Nolan. He is the tall thin guy with the gorgeous ebony skin.