A letter To My Son

collage by Tim Lukeman

Wally,
It’s so hard to stay out of our own way, isn’t it? I have been in my way most of my life. It is my fervent prayer your reaction to the pressure of the test today will help you see the value of staying out of your own way. Usually the biggest stumbling block is ourselves. It is not the size or the length of your arms but thinking something is wrong with the size and the length of your arms. Remember your cousin is taller and just as thin when he went into the Marines and talked himself into being able to do the push ups necessary to graduate. I think you have yourself psyched out and have convinced yourself you can’t do this. I believe with conditioning you will be able to do these push-ups. But you won’t find out if you quit in the middle of the test. I know this won’t happen again. I think the price of this self-sabotage was so great that you learned a hard but very important lesson.

I talked to Beav this evening and then your dad. Don’t worry about the Beav not being proud of you or disappointed in you. He was so sad for you he was about to cry. He understands how much this means to you. Your dad took it well and has a lot of questions I tried to answer. Questions about graduation in January, what happens next, that sort of thing. I tried to answer them the best I could.

I’m humbled you called me first. I’m so thankful you trust me but I am so terribly sorry my first reaction was one of dramatic panic. I hate that part of my personality. It wasn’t what you needed, what you needed to hear was how I know you are disappointed but you also realized what a stupid mistake quitting in the middle of the run was. You needed to hear what big medicine this is and what a transforming situation this will be for you and how you approach challenging situations in the future. Remember how I have always told you I believe things don’t come to you as easily as other people because you are learning what it is like to work really hard for something and therefore you will appreciate and hold dear all you achieve? This kind of perseverance is the stuff great men are made of. My guess is you won’t quit in the midst of a race or a run, ever again. You took this setback as a man, too. You didn’t blame anyone else; you took full responsibility for quitting without mentioning how muddy it was or cold or whatever like you would have about nine weeks ago. I am so proud of you and how grown up you are and I am blessed to be your mom.

Your graduation is simply delayed by a few weeks. You can come home at Christmas, we can fatten you up and you can work out everyday to strengthen you upper body. I have no doubt you will graduate in January because I know whenever God closes a door, he opens a bigger door. Two others in your platoon, but they also will get 24 hours off. Vermontmom is still coming for the weekend and if you aren’t too embarrassed she has a message for you from me. I‘m glad you have 24 hours off. You can eat a meal and linger over it as long as you want.

Please don‘t beat yourself over this. Just pick yourself up and keep training. That you didn’t quit and ask to come home during reception or when you were in hospital with pneumonia tells me you ARE Army Strong. You just need to prove it to yourself by continuing with your training. OMG do you realize that on Aug 31st you couldn’t even do five proper push ups, your running time wouldn’t pass, you didn’t know how to dismantle, clean and fire an M whatever-it-is you carry around. You hadn’t jumped off a 35 foot tower (that I know of) climbed a big wall, ran five miles with 70 pounds on your back; nor did you know how to start an IV, dress a wound and identify someone going into shock. That’s a lot to learn in eight weeks! It makes my head spin and I’m used to multitasking with things falling apart around me.

The Girl and I discussed what we would make for you while you are at home. Christmas dinner will be pot roast, garlic mashed potatoes, the usual vegetables and carrot cake. I’m off both Christmas Eve and Christmas day; I’m so excited about this, too. It will be good to be with you and spend some time together as a family. Beav has missed you more than he will admit. I can‘t wait to see Kipper‘s reaction when you come home.


Please take care of yourself, your heart, your soul and your body. Have a wonderful day off on Saturday and laugh a few times. The laughter will free your spirit.

I love you.


Mom



Today’s Inspiration:

YOUR HUT IS ON FIRE
With all that is going on in our lives at this time, I'm sure at times
we all feel a little like this. Read all the way to the end.

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited
island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he
scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.

Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of
driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few
possessions.

One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little
hut in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had
happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief,
grief, and anger. He cried out, 'God! How could you do this to me?'

Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching
the island! It had come to rescue him! 'How did you know I was here?'
asked the weary man of his rescuers. 'We saw your smoke signal,' they
replied.

The Moral of This Story:

It's easy to get discouraged when things are going badly, but we
shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the
midst of our pain and suffering. Remember that the next time your
little hut seems to be burning to the ground; it just may be a smoke
signal that summons the Grace of God.

Reporting For Duty

Nineteen years ago, I probably looked down at my rounding belly and said: “In eight short months, you will arrive!” Today, I found myself saying: “In eight short months you will be leaving home.” And to be perfectly cliché, I then found myself musing out loud how the time had passed so quickly although their were moments in his infancy and boyhood that felt like years. The paradox of motherhood. One of many.

I’m not sure why it hit me between the eyes today that Wally will be shipping out in eight months. And it isn't like he will be gone for a week or two but for three months, then a year and after that? Who knows. He will belong to the navy. At first I thought he joined impulsively as some sort of revenge because I’m obviously a poor money manager and didn’t save 80 grand for the college of his choice. A school--I hasten to add--that wouldn’t accept him even if he were waving the cash outside their gates. Yea gods we had heated discussion about his lassitude in school. Wally isn’t a stupid kid, he just isn’t that into school. Over the last month he has finally accepted this and carefully considered all the military branches and chose the Navy.


How ironic we considered immigrating to Canada to avoid the United States military machine way back in ‘91. Now I’m proud he will be a part of the very thing we wanted to escape. Wally even knows what he wants to do after boot camp. He wants to work with the Marines and special ops as a corpsman as a medic. Of course, he is going for some testosterone Play Station job he couldn't’t be content with a safe Mom-friendly job, on a base, away from the shooting and bombs. Nope, he wants to “play in the sandbox with the Marines”. (I do know some of the lingo) He leaves in eight months. Leaves home. Goes away. Leaves.


I suppose the grief that is sitting in the back of my throat, threatening to spill out of my eyes and onto my cheeks at any given moment is in part due to my mother’s death. I must say good bye to my boy in eight months. How exquisite it’s almost as long as my pregnancy.

This morning, I was graced with the rare opportunity to spend time with him before school so we went to the very loud and very crowded Starbucks across the street from the school. That he wasn‘t embarrassed to be seen with me on his turf speaks to his new found maturity. I quizzed him why he was joining the military. I was afraid he was going to tell me he couldn't’t wait to get away from me because he was sick of my bitching about his deadbeat father. He spared me that humiliation and explained to me he knew the only school we could afford was the commuter college in town; he also maturely admitted even though he will be 19, he knows he isn't ready for college. And then he said these magic words: “No offense mom but I’m ready to leave home. I need to leave home. It’s time.”


The loudest Starbucks in the whole world was suddenly dead silent except for my son’s sincere intonation of those very important words. After taking a deep and steadying breath, I quietly explained to him how proud I was of him; how this was the moment healthy parents worked towards. “From the day we brought you home from the hospital, I knew and hoped we would have this conversation. Of course you are ready to leave home. As you should be.”



Although I have been whining how horrible he as treated all of us the last six months, I'm still sad. Until last Tuesday, I was counting down the days to his 19th birthday because I could legally inform his father "due to Wally's attitude and behavior, he was no longer welcome in *my* home." But he is a different boy man since he decided to sign his contract. Wally is calmer and seems at peace; no longer picking at Beav or treating me disrespectfully. He is holding his head higher, looking us straight in the eye when we speak to him. Wally has a purpose.