Logan's Gloves

My 10 year old son Logan fell in love with, saved his money, and bought these Under armour gloves.

I didn't get it - didn't understand the fascination or see what the big deal was, I mean, gloves are gloves... right?

And I certainly wasn't overly supportive of him spending $25.00 on a pair of gloves. We stood in the store discussing it, him holding the gloves with a look of hope in his eyes, and me looking down at him, wanting to sway him from purchasing them. He looked up at me for that look of approval. And I didn't give it to him. I shrugged my shoulders at him, and told him, "It's your money Logan. If this is what you want to buy, then, I guess, go ahead." His head fell, his shoulders fell, and he was clearly torn as he walked to the cash register. Torn between excitement of buying the gloves he had been wanting, and guilt over not pleasing his mother.

As we walked out of the store, the big guy patted him on the shoulder and shared his own story of buying expensive gloves, and how he felt they're worth the money, trying to cheer him up while giving me a look that said, "it's not a big deal".

The very next day, Logan took his gloves to school, excited to wear them while he played football with his friends.
And that very day, after he got off of the school bus, he walked into the house with tears in his eyes.
He had lost them.

He said, "I should have taken better care of them. Especially after I spent that much money on them. I basically threw away twenty-five dollars."
After he said that, I found myself fighting tears. I felt absolutely horrible. It was heartbreaking to see him so disappointed in himself for losing them. And it was all because of the money. He no longer saw the gloves as something he was enjoying, instead he now saw them as an expensive and foolish purchase. And it was my fault.

I remembered being a child myself, and whenever I had lost something that was mine. And how the fact that I had lost it was sad and frustrating enough, but the thought of some other kid playing with it made those feelings 10 times worse. My heart ached for him. And we all prayed that night for Logan to find his gloves.

He went to school the next day filled with hope.
Hoping to find them in a hallway at school, in the school yard or parking lot, on 1 of the 2 buses he rides, or in a lost and found box somewhere.
He was prepared to talk to bus drivers, students, and teachers.
He went in with a great attitude, having faith that he would find those gloves.

I was sad watching him go to school, knowing there wasn't much hope.
Yet, I threw in prayers throughout the day, and even had a little chat with Saint Anthony. The big guy sent me a text to tell me he was saying prayers while he was at work.

I was not looking forward to watching Logan walk through the door after school that day, seeing him disappointed yet again, and I hated to see him holding onto something as hopeless as finding his pair of brand-name, brand new gloves unharmed. I was prepared to explain to him that he would not be finding them, and that he would have to move on.

He walked in the door after school that day, and I was standing right there, waiting for him, and I braced myself, saying, "Well....? How was your day?"

His head was down, and he said, "It was okay."

And my heart dropped. "No luck on the gloves huh?"

His face lit up, he reached in his backpack and pulled them out and held them up into the air, and yelled "YES! I FOUND THEM!"

I almost cried. I grabbed him with a "Thank GOD!", and hugged him fiercely. He was quite surprised at how excited I was, considering how I was the one who had made it clear I was disappointed in his purchase.

It turns out one of his friends had spotted something on the floor of one of the buses, a black ball of fabric in the back corner next to the garbage can, and said, "Could that be it?" and Logan had said, "No... I don't think so." But after a few moments, something nagged at him to go check, and when he did, sure enough, it was the gloves. They had been rolled into a ball, and probably tossed toward the garbage can.
Thankfully the person missed.

I had been prepared for a letdown.
Because I was sure they were long gone.
I was sure Logan would never be seeing those gloves again.
And I was sure I would be consoling him when he came home empty handed.
Because I was sure some other bratty teenager had definitely taken them, to the point where I was picturing some fictional person grinning about finding an innocent 10 year old's property.

And I was trying to figure out how to turn it into a lesson learned.

It turns out I'm the one who learned the lesson.

And it was a little lesson in faith.






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