Superpower #10: Humility

Yesterday, you officially and formally graduated from high school. It’s been a week full of so many emotions for me. I really thought this would get easier with each subsequent child, but it turns out, it doesn’t. It isn’t helpful that you have been such a joy to raise. Even through what is typically a very turbulent and difficult time (middle school through early high school) you were fun to have around, kind, grateful. You will not be easy to send out into the world, but this week was full of the inevitable reminders that we are almost there: on the cusp of this first and hardest goodbye. I know I make this sound dramatic, but you’ll never again be wholly mine. The world has gradually and relentlessly pulled you away from me and in a few months, I probably won’t have you living under my roof for very long ever again. 

But my lingering struggle to let you go is not the point of this post; your tenth superpower is. I didn’t write much during your basketball season because I was far, far too busy immersing myself in the enjoyment of it. But you became arguably the most successful and decorated basketball player your school has ever known. I can’t even begin to list all the accolades, and a brief and woefully incomplete search of my phone revealed no fewer than 11 achievements I could write about. And, other than one that I tracked down for a photo book your team was putting together at the end of the season, all were of achievements from THIS year. Everything from area player of the year to sizzling scorer of the game to election to the all-star team during the all-star game this spring.

When I graduated from college, individual achievements were recognized with various pieces of “bling” affixed to the graduation robe or worn around the neck. I had a lot (all academic for me, not a mixture of athletic and academic like for you). A classmate looked at me and said, “Wow, you did really good in this war.” To further that metaphor: you did really good in your war! My accomplishments back then are so pale compared to all that you achieved over the course of your high school career.  

Much of this culminated earlier this week in your receiving the prestigious “Gailen P. Thomas” award which “is given annually to a senior male and female student athlete who best exemplifies the qualities of the late Gailen P. Thomas, the athletic director and football coach when Wahlert opened in 1959.” You tied for this award with a volleyball teammate which many of your devoted fans are a little annoyed with. Your resume is long and prestigious, including 4 years first team all-conference for basketball, including recognition as Player of the Year this season, joining the 1000-point club your junior year, and then quickly shattering the school scoring record about mid-way through your senior season. I truly could go on and on, and perhaps somewhere in this book I should try and catalogue all your accomplishments just so you have a comprehensive list someday when all the applause fades and you settle into the living of everyday life.  

What I know you will take into this future is your tenth superpower—humility. The grace with which you have handled this most glaring of spotlights your entire life has been nothing short of, well, super. Superior even. Your megawatt smile and your instincts to always thank your teammates, coaches, and even your bumbling parents in every interview and speech has been spot on every time. Since no one ever coached you on this, I truly believe your humility and your gratitude are just core to who you are.

I think you recognize that you have been blessed with abilities beyond most, which is not at all a testament to your work ethic or the sacrifices you have made. It takes both talent and tenacity to achieve at the level you have, and you have been amply blessed with both. You take nothing for granted, and you accept all your plaques, awards and accolades with, well, at the risk of overusing the word, grace. You are so gracious and humble.

It's kind of weird to be the parent of the superstar. Your siblings are all exceptional athletes and students, regularly collecting awards and achievements of their own, and your dad and I were hard working achievers in our own right in our day. But none of us climbed to quite the heights that you have. Some of that is just what you were born with (that’s the part you didn’t earn).

And some of it was your work and sacrifice (the part you did). I think you understand that you owe a lot to the part you were born with and for that reason, you don’t struggle to remain humble. Some of us are born under a lucky star, though it’s up to us to make the most of it. You did both. And you always acknowledge the part that came along for free.  

I’m not sure if college will be as generous to you by way of awards and achievements as high school has, though I can scarcely imagine you on a team where you didn’t emerge as one of the most decorated members. Of course, the trope of the high school hero to college zero is not without some basis, so perhaps you will have to lean on your superpower of humility in the coming years.

Whether you continue your providential parade through the spotlight or learn the hard job of supporting cast, I know your superpower of humility will serve you well.