My Boys

Over the course of my life, I have been a collector of many things.

Hat pins, decorator spoons, buttons, converse shoes, concert tickets, picture albums, quote magnets.

And then around the time I turned fifteen, I started collecting them.  My most priceless.

My boys.

I grew up in a raging household of women.  It was glorious, and  dramatic, and louder than you would think. There were tears, so many tears, and so many batches of baked goods, and so many hours of long, whispered conversations about everything and nothing.

There was screaming.  And squealing.  And shouting. And fighting.  Over the bathroom.  Over the TV remote.  Over who's turn it was to do the dishes. Over who was the hottest boy at church.

It was perfect.

But when I got to my first year of outside school, in sixth grade, I was set free in an open world of male.

I was shy at first, nervous.  I of course, had practically grown up at my friend's house, with her brothers, but I wasn't shy around them because I'd known them as far back as I could remember.

These boys were new.  And loud.  And hopeless, as boys are wont to be in 6th grade.

I tried to ignore them.  It worked, from an outsider's perspective, I was always around my girlfriends giggling and whispering and performing as a class A professional at being a 6th grade girl. But what nobody knew was that secretly, fearfully, in the very deepest part of me, I loved the boys.  I loved them all.  I loved them because they made me laugh, and they were brazenly opposite to me. They were messy and deliberate and curious and funny and I was completely at a loss for how much they fascinated me.

I pondered this over the next few years.

Until I hit fifteen, and the shyness wore off.  I made new friends.  I engaged them in conversation.  I put myself out there.  I laughed at their stupid jokes.  And suddenly, they were mine.

They started adding up and I realized I had almost as many guy friends as I did girl friends.  Secretly I prided myself on this.

There is nothing that girls love more in this world than to be close with boys.  I don't mean that in a romantic sense, either.  Some of these boys I have fallen for.  Hopelessly and tragically.  Most of  them have become a deeper part of me than I realize, and we've made it through our friendships for years without either of us falling for the other. It is possible.  I've proven that.

I started to realize that not only did they fascinate me, but I felt like I understood them more than I could ever have understood my girlfriends.

You see, around the tender age of fifteen, girls turn into monsters.

I could never understand why.  So I hung out with the boys because life made more sense around them.  We laughed and called each other names and laughed some more and whenever I was upset, they just accepted it.  They never tried to change how I felt.

This is a priceless treasure that God has gifted the male race with.  I have seen this trait along the winding trail of boys  that have tumbled in and out of my life as I've grown up.

I've never once heard any of my boys say to me, "Don't be that way.  Don't feel like that."

It is a blessing to not be made guilty for your emotions.  Let this be a lesson.

Ever since fifteen, I have befriended and tended to and collected and kept and treasured the most beautiful, heartbreakingly precious group of boys whom I am intensely proud to call mine.  They make me feel full of worth, and they make me feel validated, and when I cook for them, they worship the ground I walk on.

They lift me up and they spur me forward.  They dare me to greatness.  They inspire me to courage.

They drive me to try new things, and they deliver me time and again to my Lord and Savior.

They have nurtured me.  They have held me. They have taken such beautiful care of me.

And I am so grateful for each one of them, because they are all so indescribably different.  And the relationship I have with each one is unique.  I communicate with one on a dramatically different level than I communicate with another.  And that's probably my favorite part.  I have things I need to say to all of them: "I miss you, I miss your hugs, I hope life is treating you well, etc."  and I can say all of those things in ten completely different ways, special to each individual person.

God has blessed me through these friends, these brothers, these boys.

And I am excited to grow my collection, everywhere I go with my life.  Because with everyday that passes, and in every new place I find myself in, I meet more and more incredible individuals worthy of possessing.

I'm a possessive person when it comes to relationships.

Protective is something I've never been able to pull off- I tend to think people can and will find ways to handle themselves and handle their lives and they don't need me trying to protect them.

However, I am intensely possessive with relationships.  If I love you, and you mean a lot to me, you are mine.  You belong to me.  If you love me, and I mean a lot to you, then I am yours.  I belong to you. This is how I feel about everyone in my life. Family, girl friends, guy friends, etc.

All of my girls, and each one of my boys, are mine because they have proven themselves worthy to me to own.  They have proven themselves worthy to me to give a piece of myself away to that I won't give to just anybody.  Possession is deeply personal.  And I'm happy to have a new, large collection of people in my life that I can be personal with.

A lot of that is new because it happened this summer.

So this post is for my boys, whom I am missing intensely this week.

I miss your hugs, and your spontaneity, and your music tastes and your adventuring, your wisdom, your insights and the way you all make me laugh, and laugh hard.

Thanks for loving me the way Christ loves me.

And thanks for letting me call you mine.

"Love you to pieces, distraction, etc."


-Hannah