My son and I have always had a great relationship. They say boys tend to be closer to their moms and girls closer to their dads. That may be true on a spiritual level in our household, but on a more practical and tangible sense, that doesn't seem to fit reality. 

You see, my daughters were always with my wife; going to dance rehearsals, recitals, and competitions out of town, shopping, going to cycle classes, the beauty parlor, etc. Meanwhile, I was always with my son at baseball practices, games, and tournaments out of town, playing catch, taking him to social activities, hanging out watching sports or movies, and such. 

There was a lot of crossover, of course. We shared most meals together, attended Mass, took family vacations and the occasional incursions, where the boys would go to dance competitions or the girls would join us at a baseball tournament, but for the most part, my son and I spent time on our own and my wife and the girls did as well. 

My son has always had a rebellious streak, even when he was little. But, in general, he was obedient and listened to what I had to say. He learned to appreciate the music I liked. He took my accolades and admonitions when offered. He developed a similar sense of humor, political inclinations and passion for sports. In fact, despite being born and raised in Miami, he became a rabid fan of my two favorite teams; the New York Mets and the Washington Redskins. (Our oldest daughter as well and they'll always be the Redskins to us!)  

We had our moments, don't get me wrong. People cannot live under the same roof without the occasional conflict. I am well aware that I can be demanding on my children and my ego and pride sometimes gets the best of me. But, overall, it was a positive and loving relationship.  

Then came year fourteen. Although, it may have started in the latter part of thirteen to be honest.  

We became like two rams butting heads. He started challenging me, defying me, rejecting my suggestions, arguing and bickering with me over the most trivial of things, whether it was an opinion about sports, about music, about movies I liked, or about life. It was a constant battle. There was constant strife.  

I realize it was a rite of passage, as Mark Twain pointed out. The lion cub coming into his own and wanting to assert his courage and strength, but it was a bit shocking in the way it unfolded and manifested itself in our relationship. 

He then started pitching and became a very good pitcher, working hard, competing in tournaments with kids, some of which were older, and excelling.

Then, he was disillusioned. His hard work did not pay off the way we planned. He had a great tryout in high school, throwing consistently harder than he had ever thrown with impeccable control on his fastball, curve and changeup, and earning the accolades of the Head Coach and Pitching Coach. He couldn't have done better. He made me very proud. Yet, despite that, he was cut from the team.

It coincided with his first love interest, a girl who he started seeing, and baseball was already taking a back seat in his life. 

For me, this was a seismic change in our lives and our relationship. Not only, was his interest in baseball waning, which had been one of the bedrocks of our relationship, but now he was shifting his interest, which if you knew my son and his disinterest in girls as a child, was monumental.

I always liked girls. From the time I was five, I was locking myself in a car to kiss a girl. I fell head over heels for a pretty blonde girl, named Tina, in the third grade. I didn't even know her but sat behind her and would stroke her long hair all day in class. I never even asked if she minded. It was like I was under a spell by her beautiful blonde locks! I always had a crush on a teacher, or classmate, or a neighbor, or someone I would meet. I don't ever remember not liking girls. 

But, my son, was a different story. I would point out pretty girls in his class or in his school and he would dismiss me with disgust. 

So, there we were embattled in strife over anything, his baseball career hanging by a thread and a now a girl in the mix! Did I mention, I don't like change? 

Look, it wasn't like it was Yoko Ono coming to break up The Beatles. I like the girl very much. I was actually excited that he had his first girlfriend. I had my first girlfriend in the tenth grade as well, which lasted all of two months! But there was a lot going on at the time and the relationship between father and son was falling by the wayside.

After his disenchantment with the way things devolved with baseball, I decided to take a step back and give him some space. I wanted him to keep playing because I knew he had talent, more talent than I ever had, but I wanted it to come from him. 

So, I waited patiently on the sidelines. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and before I knew it, two months had gone by, and then three. He didn't pick up the baseball again until recently, four months after his tryout, when he threw with his girlfriend's little cousin.

In the interim, in early March, he decided to join the high school football team. Football? Really? I like football but he had never played and, to be honest, I never was interested in him playing football because of the potential for injuries. 

However, I had already decided that whatever decision he made, had to come from him and if he was willing to sacrifice time and effort to play a sport that he had never played before, then so be it.  I've been waking up at five o'clock every morning to drive him to football workouts, practice and training ever since.

As for our relationship, things were not getting better. We continued to bicker. It was very disheartening. He would be happy one minute when asking me to drive him to his girlfriend's house and the next minute be giving me the cold shoulder. 

One night, sometime during Lent, he asked if I could drive him to Orlando to meet his girlfriend and her parents, who were going to Universal Studios after a school event. I had driven my son to Universal Studios at about the same time last year, after cajoling him to catch in a baseball tournament for a local high school, whose coach asked if he could catch for his team. 

This time, he asked during a tumultuous week, where we had been arguing, probably over pettiness, and I told him, "No way!" I was not going to take him after all the grief he was giving me. Case closed! He told his girlfriend and was downcast for several days.

It's one of my favorite parables in the Bible. A son demands that his father give him his half of his inheritance, which was tantamount to wanting him dead. He takes the money and leaves everything he had ever known for some far off land, which was a repudiation of everything his father stood for and had ever given him. The son goes off and blows every penny on a life of debauchery before a famine hit the land, leaving him destitute and working in a pigpen, which for a Jewish man was as low as one can get, before realizing his condition, repenting and returning home to ask his father for forgiveness. 

It is a powerful story because it's more of a story about the loving father than the prodigal son. The father, who despite the insult and rejection, sees the son while he was approaching from afar, goes out to meet him instead of waiting, forgives him and welcomes him back into the family fold with a great feast.

I've read and heard the story many times. It's a story we use in a men's retreat that I have been part of for over 17 years. So, I'm very familiar with all the intricacies of the story. I even read a book by the great Fr. Henri Nouwen, titled The Return of the Prodigal Son, which is the best and favorite spiritual book I possess.  

After reading it that morning, the parable began to resonate within me. I started thinking about my son and our strained relationship but mostly, I thought about the response of the loving father. I have always prayed to be that loving father to my children; a father who forgives, who shows mercy and who loves unconditionally. 

I decided to be that father to my son. That night, as he walked around the house looking gloomy and not speaking to me, I told him that I would take him on the trip. Immediately his demeanor brightened and went from downcast to jubilation. "Really?" he asked with an incredulous smile. When I confirmed, and his mom said she would make the hotel reservations, he quickly went into our bedroom to call his girlfriend to let her know. He then came out and gave me a hug, saying, "I'm sorry." I couldn't help but to get choked up. 

In recent days, he comes to hug me every night before he goes to bed. We are arguing less (Although, I don't want to say that too loud so I don't jinx it!). He is happier and more playful around me. And, although he is several years from 21, as Mark Twain once wrote (he's now four months shy of 16), maybe, just maybe, he is starting to realize how much I have learned, and things will begin to go back to where they were, albeit at a more refined level. 

In The Boxer Simon and Garfunkel sang, "Now the years are rolling by me.  They are rockin' evenly.  I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be; that's not unusual.  Nor is it strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same.  After changes we are more or less the same."