My two boys are trying out for ice hockey teams in the UK. There are not many of them as rinks as so few, so a place in a squad is fairly rare.
After the latest try-out the other night, my eldest wanted to chat. I was pinching myself as he spoke about 'making the right decision' and 'doing what is right for me at this time' and 'making sure I have all the facts'. Was this an 11-year-old or an articulate adult I was talking to?
I continued the conversation, asking him what was best for him.... what was the right choice. We ended with a big hug and decisions for him to make at some point in the coming weeks.
As I closed the door behind me, a great sense of pride and love rose up in me. Being a Dad is one of the best jobs in the world and these moments - the thin places as the Celts would call them - allow me to touch something of heaven on earth. They are the places where the distance between me and my heavenly Father is tangibly closed.
I am thankful for thin places and even more thankful that my son(s) is maturing into a wise and articulate young man. Long may it grow and may I be wise enough to nurture it in him whenever the opportunity arises.