A few weeks ago I wrote about four days at four different altars - the gift of weekday Mass during this sabbatical season.

This week it's four sons.

All four of them had moments worth noticing over the last couple of weeks - different stages, different arenas, different kinds of growing up. And somehow it all happened in the same seven days.

That doesn't happen often. When it does, you pay attention.

Thomas

Last night, Thomas performed in a cabaret in St. Louis.

It was a small venue, a variety show format - songs, stories, performances woven together around a theme. The theme was dreams: pursuing your dreams, and supporting dreamers.

He shared the stage with a couple of lifelong theatre friends from Granite City and a Broadway performer. He was fantastic.

Thomas is the oldest. He's been doing theatre since he was young, and we've watched him grow from a kid who loved being on stage in our living the room to a young man who understands what he's doing up there and is traveling the country for auditions as he wraps up his studies in dance. There's craft now. There's intention.

And the theme of the show - pursuing your dreams, supporting dreamers - felt like something he's living, not just performing. The final song, "The Impossible Dream" (sung by Tim Martin Gleason) was a theme of Bruce Sanders, one of the mentors who planted seeds in me, of whom I'm written - so it brought the evening home in a special, personal way.

Joseph

Last week, Joseph performed with the Riverbend Youth Choir. He was one of four selected soloists, and he did amazing! We were so proud of him and grateful for the opportunities he's having with his vocal coach.

Then he went to Called And Sent - the high school Catholic retreat at Villa Maria, our diocesan retreat center.

Joseph is quieter and more contemplative than his brothers in some ways, but when he steps into something, he's all the way in, and when he gets going on something he can even be the loudest and most dramatic. 

The solo. The retreat. The faith he's making his own.

In two weeks, he and I leave for Walt Disney World - just the two of us on a father-son trip. I'm SO looking forward to it.

Andrew

Andrew had his qualifying rounds for the golf team last week. He feels good about how he did. It's amazing that he just started golfing less than a year ago but has already gotten quite good and has fallen in love with the sport.

But the highlight was Saturday night.

I took him to the Forrest Frank concert at the Enterprise Center in St. Louis. It was his first concert ever. It was my first time at the Enterprise Center since 1999 - which is a little crazy to say out loud.

It was a great show. But it was an even better father-son night.

Andrew hasn't stopped thanking Suzanne and me for the tickets. They were part of his birthday gift this year - the experience, not just the thing. Watching him enjoy the performance and take it all in, the lights and the crowd and the music, reminded me that fourteen-year-olds are still young enough to be amazed and old enough to remember it.

That's the window. You don't get it forever.

Matthew

Matthew is still at Basic Training. But the letters are coming now - one almost every day.

He's doing well personally. The discipline, the faith, the steadiness we saw in him before he left is holding.

But they're at the point in training where cracks start to show in the flight. Some of the guys need to step up and mature. Some are struggling. Matthew is watching it happen, learning what it looks like when a team has to decide whether it's going to come together or fall apart, and writing us about it. It's an interesting record to receive day by day.

He's not complaining. He's observing. He's growing.

And every letter ends the same way: he's grateful, he's praying, he misses us but he's doing what he's supposed to do.

The Rare Week

You plant seeds for years. You don't always get to see them bloom.

And you almost never get to see them bloom at the same time.

This week, I did.

Thomas on stage, stepping into a dream. Joseph singing and retreating, making the faith his own. Andrew at his first concert, still young enough to be amazed. Matthew in the crucible, steady and growing.

Four sons. Four different kinds of growing up. All in the same week.

I don't know what I did to deserve this. Probably nothing. It's grace - the kind you don't earn, just receive.

But I'm paying attention. And I'm grateful.

If this resonated with you, I'd be honored if you shared it with someone who might need to hear it.