How birthday parties taught me about risks, rewards of relationships

One of the hardest things about your oldest child growing up is that while he or she gets to partake in expanded experiences, the youngest isn’t quite there yet. In our home, this issue often plays out like a staged melodrama that involves all sorts of emotions. From my perspective, it’s difficult to manage, because I want the horizons of my older boy to open up, but I also want my little guy to feel included as a part of something special.

Over the past few weeks, something amazing has happened, for which I’m grateful. A few Fridays ago, my eldest came home from school waving a birthday party invitation in his hand. He was excited for the chance to play with a group of his friends at a local indoor pool. Just past his excitement, I saw my younger boy’s lip droop … then his shoulders … and then he scuffled by muttering, “I wish I got invited to a birthday party.”

Bummer.

Now, my eldest is a great guy. He tried to consoled his younger brother, letting him know that at some time, he would get invited to a party all by himself, one “that I won’t be able to go to.” How awesome is that? But it was all for naught. After all, it’s hard to console a crushed spirit.

That moment was pretty great for me. Though I hurt for my little man, I was proud of my eldest and how he handled his privilege. But it got better. The very next day, a letter arrived in the mail for my three-year old! This was not just any old letter, however (not that he had ever received one before), it was a birthday party invitation! You would have thought my little boy had won the World Series, a Pulitzer and the Nobel Prize all at once! He was jumping up and down, hugging his letter and shouting, “I got invited! I got invited!” As you can imagine, the whole house joined in.

Both parties went well, and the boys had distinctly wonderful times. But they’re now in the rearview mirror, and it’s easy for a young guy to forget the opportunities he’s had. So, when another invite came home from school with the eldest, it was another chance for his little brother to feel left out of another big boy adventure.

But wait! The very next day, in defiance of anything you’ve ever heard about lightning, one more hand-addressed envelope was delivered to my youngest son. He tore into it and pulled out an adorable invitation to a craft birthday party from one of the girls from preschool! He immediately clutched it to his chest, quietly breathed out the words, “I got invited!” and ran downstairs to share his invitation with his older brother. And let me be clear about this last part: he did not go to gloat or show his brother that he had evened the score. He went to share his joy of being included.

Jesus understood this desire to be connected. He invited people to be with him. A lot. He once shared a parable in which the host of a wedding party, dismayed at the empty seats around his table, told his servants to “go into the street corners and invite anyone you can find.” I would love to have heard those conversations: “Whatcha doin’?” “Nothing.” “Well, you want to come to this huge banquet over here?” Cool.

Two things about this parable seem particularly relevant to me. First, it takes courage to accept an invitation from someone who is asking to share life with you. It must have taken serious moxy to go to that party. I’d bet lots of excuses were offered to cover the fear of walking into an event where you weren’t sure if you could trust the people around you or weren’t sure you belonged or if you would know anyone or whatever (go ahead and fill in your own anxiety regarding relationship here). What a huge risk and what a potentially huge reward. Because, second, in our own particular ways, we each want to be invited, to be connected to others. We need to know that we are wanted. And when we feel that, it warms our chest in such a way that we clutch it like a 3-year-old hugging a birthday party invitation.