THE SELFISH GOODBYE

As I remember "The Goodbye" one year ago today, and as I sort my thoughts for another post, I will repost this one from about a year ago.
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Three days ago I said goodbye to my son - AGAIN - as he took his first step toward fulfilling his dream.

It is amazing how, during that final hug, that final hug in which I wished desperately that I did not have to let go, how many thoughts went through my mind in such a short amount of time,

First I thought of how different it is to hug my son the man, than it was to hug my son the child. Whereas years ago - although it seems like moments - I embraced a chubby, round, soft -cheeked little boy who smelled like bubble bath, sweat and dirt, this time I was hugging a tall lean young adult who smelled like deodorant and cologne. Where my hand used to touch a soft fleshy baby face, it was now touching a lean, chiseled cheek-boned face just like his dad's - a face rough with whiskers that had yet to be shaved that morning. Where I used to bend over or sit on my knees to hold my boy, this day I was stretching upward to reach him and he was bending down to reach me.

Sweet Mercy, how DOES the time pass so quickly?

The thing that remained the same, though, was that, just as my sweet little boy used to pull out of my embraces, impatiently moving on to play in the dirt or the lego bucket, my tall lean adult boy pulled away first - eager to move on. Eager to fly away and start this new chapter.

And as painful as it was to feel him leave my embrace, it is a beautiful feeling to know that your child is eager to begin a new chapter - to set out on the path set before him.

It is beautiful to see your child show courage.

For the past several months something just felt wrong about Blake's decision to join the Marines - something that I have chalked up to the fears of a mother's heart. And then it hit me.

We have, in a sense, reversed roles.

From the moment I knew I was pregnant with Blake it has been my duty, my privilege, my instinct, to protect him - to place myself between him and danger.

And now, he has chosen a life path that, in essence, will call him to place himself between me and danger.

He will become my protector - along with all of his brothers and sisters in uniform.

That just feels wrong to me. And yet it feels so right, because it IS right. I know it is right because I've seen his diligence as he prepared for this time. I've seen his excitement as he talked about it. I've seen the contentment that entered his heart when he signed those papers.

And so he has gone. And the many many emotions that swirl in my heart right now are surely going to collide and form a perfect storm where this lonely, frightened, proud, uncertain, relieved mother can do nothing but plant my feet and hold steady until I get used to this new phase. And that's okay.

I can do that.

I can do that because I recently sat through a memorial service for a 16-year-old boy whose mother cannot look at a calendar and count the days until she will see her precious son again. She does not get another goodbye. She does not get to watch him leave for the next phase of life - whatever that phase would have been.

And I am ashamed of myself becasue I have spent the last year - the last fourteen months actually - living in fear and dread of the day my son will leave home. I have lived in dread of the day I had to tell him goodbye. And then that day came and he was sent home and I had to do it all over again. And I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself.

But here's the thing. I GOT TO SAY GOODBYE. And for now I know my son is safe and, although he is doing something extremely difficult, he is happy because he is finally living his dream. I get to see him in thirteen weeks.

Oh how Nic's mother would love to know she would see her boy in thirteen weeks.

I miss my boy desperately. I cannot stand to think of what he is enduring right now. But I am thankful for the perspective that God has allowed to seep into my heart.

I have a sweet daughter at home and oh how I love watching her enjoy life. I so enjoy her. I have a loving devoted husband. I have a son who is healthy and strong enough to be at Marine Corps Boot Camp.

And I got to tell him goodbye - strong in my faith that I will see him in less than three months.

Forgive me, Father, for my selfishness during this time of change in my life. Forgive me for forgetting to look beyond my own self pitying heart.