The other morning, while I was giving my kitchen a (semi) thorough cleaning, I decided to go ahead and make the meatloaf I had planned for dinner.
That's right, by 11:00 am I had my meatloaf mixed up and sitting in the fridge all ready to bake.
June Cleaver couldn't do better.
Anyway, the phone rang while I was finishing up and the caller I.D. said "U.S. GOVERNMENT."
Well, Great! You rip one tag off of one throw pillow...
Turns out I need not have worried. It was simply an Army recruiter looking for my son.
Hello, this is Sergeant Bates (or was it Gates?) May I speak to Blake?
And in an instant I went from June Cleaver to Mad Mother Bear.
Blake is at SCHOOOOOOL. *snarl*
Oh, has he gone off to college?
No, he's a junior in high school. And you can't have him.
Not really on that last part, but I was thinking it.
Blake has been talking to a couple of recruiters. He's spent some time with a Marine recruiter and yesterday visited with a Naval recruiter. Of course, the Army got wind of his military interest and decided to get in on the action.
Regardless of the fear that grips my heart when he talks about a life in the armed forces, I can't disparage that choice.
See, the pebble of military service has left a huge ripple in the pond of Blake's life.
My great grandfather fought in World War I and World War II. He spent the last thirty years of his life in a veteran's hospital suffering from battle fatigue. His body came out of both wars unharmed, but his spirit was scarred forever. Perhaps that is a worse fate than a bullet wound.
His son-in-law, my maternal grandfather, also fought in World War II in the Navy Sea Bees, leaving my grandmother at home to worry over her father and her husband as they fought on different fronts.
My paternal grandfather landed on the beaches of Normandy and fought behind German lines.
My brother spent 22 years in the army.
My dad served in the army.
My surrogate dad, Uncle Ivan, served in the Army.
My cousin retired as a captain from the Navy.
My father-in-law, Paul's step dad, was a medic in Korea and Vietnam. He has seen first hand the atrocities man can inflict on one another.
When Paul was four, his dad died of cancer after serving nearly 20 years in the Air Force.
Blake's "godfather" was a marine.
His wrestling coach, the father of his best friend, recently retired from the Navy.
Make no mistake, Blake adores his dad. It still makes me weak in the knees to see the bond Paul has with our son. But besides Paul, all the men Blake admires the most have a military past. These are honorable men. These are selfless men.
And because of that, to disparage a military choice would be like cutting them off at the knees in Blake's eyes. Because of the long history of military service in my family, to disparage it would be like hating the very essence of myself.
As an American, I think military service is among the most honorable of careers. It is a selfless career. It is a difficult career. And, unfortunately, in our society, it is a career that is easily mocked and vilified, making it a courageous choice in more than one way.
As a mother, the whole story changes. As a mother, I want to bar the door. I want to throw myself at his feet and plead with him to walk a different path. I want to beg him to choose something else - ANYTHING ELSE - that would not put his precious life at risk.
But I can't do that.
I am coming to realize more and more that he has a heart for service - military service. He has a heart for this challenge. And who am I to quash that spirit, that eagerness?
Who am I to live in fear and teach him, at this late date in parenting, to live in fear?
He has one and three-quarters years of high school left. He has time to make a decision. We have time to have some serious conversations and ask some serious questions.
And I have time to pray. A LOT.
4 comments:
Just bless your heart. My son was 3 months old when 9/11 happened. I remember pondering the words of President Bush as I nursed him to sleep the next night. . .how this "war" would take years and sacrifice and. . .and as I pondered, I realized for the first time in that three months that I had given birth to an American male child who could be called to serve--either by his country or by his own determination.
At that moment--even three MONTHS seemed way too close to 18 years.
I remember when my son was considering a military career. You said it well. How could I discourage him from such an honorable undertaking. His dad was in the Navy during Viet Nam, but there hasn't been any other family member in the military.
I knew I would support him in his choice, yet I breathed a sigh of relief when he decided to pursue a teaching degree.
God bless your son as he considers his future during the next few years.
My grandfathers went to war, my grandma was in the Royal Air Force, and my dad was in the Air Force too. While I admire those that serve, I would do everything in my power to stop my children from going into the service. If they wanted to join the Peace Corps., I'd be OK with that, but I'd be moving elsewhere if they ever brought back the draft!
I loved your response "he's a junior in high school and you can't have him!"
I was nearly recruited into the Marines. Of course, the just HAD to send the most persistent, charming, and handsome recruiter to my school. LOL
I didn't join because I personally was sick and tired of seeing the wrong people join up for the wrong reasons. I knew within myself that all i would do is gripe and moan for 2 years just for the sake of getting some benefits (hey, I was young!) People that join up for those reasons really devalue the true heroes! I couldn't be that, you know?
I really appreciated your post! :)
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