Rebel Talk: Make It Last
Last week, my boys stood on a church stage, instruments in hand, lights warm and soft, Christmas filling the room. A band concert during Advent. One of those moments you don’t circle on the calendar as life-changing—until it is.
Most days, my boys are in sweatpants and hoodies. Comfortable. Moving fast. Growing quietly. Somewhere between practices, school days, and routines, the growth sneaks by. But that night, it didn’t.
My oldest—almost 13—decided he wanted to dress up. Not because he had to. Because he wanted to. Suit coat. Tie. Hair done just right. A small decision that carried a lot of weight.
He asked me to help with his tie.
So we stood in my bathroom, shoulder to shoulder, looking into the mirror. I showed him how to loop it, how to pull it tight, how not to rush it. Then I stepped behind him. Straightened the knot. Adjusted the collar. Pulled his shirt sleeves just past the coat sleeves like my dad once did for me. Lined up the buttons. Tucked the tie. Made it all come together.
And that’s when it hit me.
Hard.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just heavy in the best way. The kind of moment that presses on your chest and reminds you: this matters.
I didn’t want it to end.
So I kept “fixing” things that didn’t need fixing. One more adjustment. One more straightening. One more second in the mirror. I stood there behind him, fighting back tears I didn’t fully understand—joy, pride, gratitude, time slipping through my hands all at once.
A boy becoming a young man.
When did that happen?
Somewhere along the way, I stopped being the kid learning and became the dad teaching. The grown-up. The one passing things down. The one showing him how to stand a little taller, even if neither of us said it out loud.
Life gives us moments like this. Quiet ones. Ordinary ones. And if we’re not careful, we blow right past them. We rush. We move on. We check the next box.
I’ve done that too many times.
But not this time.
This one, I sat in. I soaked it up. I held it as long as I could. I tried—futilely—to make it last.
I don’t have some perfectly wrapped lesson for you this week. I'm "tough", I'm Relentless, but I'm fighting back unknown tears as I write this. No checklist. No call to action other than this:
Notice the moments.
Slow down when they show up.
Let them hit you.
Let them linger.
Because you don’t get to rewind them. You don’t get to schedule them again. You only get them once.
So when life hands you one—don’t rush past it.
Do what you can to make it last.
Stay Relentless,
Ryan
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