As I post this, my son has just completed "Hell Week" at boot camp. I can only assume the week lived up to its name, and hold a knowing in my heart that he has come through it well.
It's funny...I thought that as we continued along this journey together, the perceived separation would get easier as time went on. I believe this has been the longest I've ever gone without seeing his face since that day nearly 24 years ago when I first held him in my arms and discovered that this beautiful being I'd grown inside my belly had indeed decided to be a boy.
I'd ordered girls, you see, partly because I hoped to avoid what I'm experiencing now. I never wanted to give my children up to the military. I even named him after Bob Dylan; very likely inspired subconsciously to insure this current eventuality would never happen. Despite my best efforts, however, we've arrived at this place.
I miss my boy. I miss his face. I miss hearing his voice and spending Friday nights watching Camelot on Starz with a bowl of popcorn between us. I miss hugging him and breathing in his scent from his shirt. I miss giving him massages while imploring him repeatedly to keep his promise to not volunteer to be a medic for the Marines. After awhile, I'd condensed that request down to a simple statement: "Stay the HELL away from the Marines!" (Not that I have anything against the Marines...I just don't like where they are right now.)
What I have now in place of the above is a weekly letter that arrives in the mailbox every Wednesday. It's usually a one-pager, because he is exhausted and allowed precious little time to write home. I cherish every word as if from a sacred text...because it is. My baby touched this paper. He wrote these words, and they are sacred to me.
Through all of my suffering, I feel gratitude that I even have this much...truly I do.
I just thought it would get easier to miss him. It hasn't.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Beginning the Process
My youngest son has been kicking around the idea of joining the US Navy for a couple years now. The first time he broke it to me, I managed to talk him out of it, and enjoyed a modicum of relief. It was short-lived, however, when he recently informed me again that the idea had reared its insidious head in my son's direction; beckoning him like a charming used-car salesman jingling the keys to a shiny red clunker into the dewy face of a boy in possession of his very first driver's permit. The shiny red exterior holds close the secret of the unhealthy dysfunction hidden within.
Disclaimer: The purpose of this blog is an expression of honesty, and an opportunity to connect with others who are experiencing the same emotions and concerns as I. It is not an attempt to inflame others who hold differing opinions. I come from a place of love and tolerance. I respect the opinions of others, and feel that arguments are merely attempts to bully the other person into changing their point of view. If you have differing opinions, I welcome them. I learn and grow by experiencing the perspectives of others, and therefore contrast is greatly appreciated by me. I will not, however, suffer disrespect or bullying. The best way to reach me is through kindness and compassion, so please, no flaming or nastiness. Such posts will be both ignored and removed.
I love this country. I am so grateful for the opportunities and resources that we enjoy on a daily basis. I believe in the power of love, and in the strength of faith. My spirituality and personal relationship with God is an integral part of my existence, and has bolstered me through some very challenging experiences in this lifetime. My faith that the Universe conspires for me, and that all circumstances and situations exist for the higher good of all has seen me through many challenges, and has been unshakable. However, this particular item has thrown me for a loop, and I find myself grappling to maintain a faithful stance.
We are at war, after all, and no branch of the military is exempt from participating...no matter what the recruiters say. Our children are not exposed to the perils of war like we were during the Vietnam era. Back then, we were bombarded with images of the carnage and destruction that war exemplifies. This time around, we are not even privy to images of flag-draped coffins bearing the remains of shattered mother's babies being delivered home to their grieving families.
On the news this morning, a 10-second blurb that mentioned the deaths of six of our nation's children occurring in Afghanistan yesterday was all the airplay this war received. The only image given was a map of Afghanistan with a star marking the area the carnage took place. No pictures were shown of the kids who left their families behind to fight in this nightmare war. A map with a star is all the national exposure and recognition afforded for the sense of loss these kids and their families are experiencing. We are not allowed the inspiration to grieve with them, excepting what we can generate individually in our own hearts. We don't even know their names.
Our children are not armed with the knowledge of what they could be signing up for. They are only given the well-rehearsed, highly-slanted sales pitch of military recruiters.
The image of my precious son being smooth-talked by them makes my heart hurt.
I feel the need to add another disclaimer here: My heart and my prayers are with each member of the military, and with our administration. All things exist for our continual evolution, especially the things that challenge us deeply. I recognize that the recruiters I speak of are also living expressions of God, are serving a higher purpose, and that simply by virtue of their existence are worthy and deserving of kindness, respect and compassion. No matter how much fear their activities inspire within me, I continue to hold them in the highest esteem, as I do all of us.
While I hold that a fusion of love, faith and tolerance are the true power that creates worlds, I understand that I don't have the market cornered on the subject, and that others have the right to feel differently. They also have the right to explore all available methodologies to ensure that what they believe in will continue to exist. I just know in my heart that there's a better way, and that soon...hopefully, blissfully soon...we will arrive at that solution on a global scale.
In the meantime, I support those who are currently in harm's way, and continually hope that their contribution to this world will not end there.
And for my son, my beautiful son who has always been a shining light in this world, I know that his cause is a noble one. Like so many other mother's babies, he has been a source of great joy interspersed with tiny pockets of deep sorrow. I know that his intentions are honorable, and that he feels this is the best choice for him right now. As difficult as it is, I know that the most loving gift I can offer my boy is to continue to support him on his path, and to hold faithful to the knowledge that every step he takes on his journey is a fulfillment of his Divine purpose. As his mother, I must lovingly let go and allow him his full expression.
I just hope that I can remember to breathe.
Disclaimer: The purpose of this blog is an expression of honesty, and an opportunity to connect with others who are experiencing the same emotions and concerns as I. It is not an attempt to inflame others who hold differing opinions. I come from a place of love and tolerance. I respect the opinions of others, and feel that arguments are merely attempts to bully the other person into changing their point of view. If you have differing opinions, I welcome them. I learn and grow by experiencing the perspectives of others, and therefore contrast is greatly appreciated by me. I will not, however, suffer disrespect or bullying. The best way to reach me is through kindness and compassion, so please, no flaming or nastiness. Such posts will be both ignored and removed.
I love this country. I am so grateful for the opportunities and resources that we enjoy on a daily basis. I believe in the power of love, and in the strength of faith. My spirituality and personal relationship with God is an integral part of my existence, and has bolstered me through some very challenging experiences in this lifetime. My faith that the Universe conspires for me, and that all circumstances and situations exist for the higher good of all has seen me through many challenges, and has been unshakable. However, this particular item has thrown me for a loop, and I find myself grappling to maintain a faithful stance.
We are at war, after all, and no branch of the military is exempt from participating...no matter what the recruiters say. Our children are not exposed to the perils of war like we were during the Vietnam era. Back then, we were bombarded with images of the carnage and destruction that war exemplifies. This time around, we are not even privy to images of flag-draped coffins bearing the remains of shattered mother's babies being delivered home to their grieving families.
On the news this morning, a 10-second blurb that mentioned the deaths of six of our nation's children occurring in Afghanistan yesterday was all the airplay this war received. The only image given was a map of Afghanistan with a star marking the area the carnage took place. No pictures were shown of the kids who left their families behind to fight in this nightmare war. A map with a star is all the national exposure and recognition afforded for the sense of loss these kids and their families are experiencing. We are not allowed the inspiration to grieve with them, excepting what we can generate individually in our own hearts. We don't even know their names.
Our children are not armed with the knowledge of what they could be signing up for. They are only given the well-rehearsed, highly-slanted sales pitch of military recruiters.
The image of my precious son being smooth-talked by them makes my heart hurt.
I feel the need to add another disclaimer here: My heart and my prayers are with each member of the military, and with our administration. All things exist for our continual evolution, especially the things that challenge us deeply. I recognize that the recruiters I speak of are also living expressions of God, are serving a higher purpose, and that simply by virtue of their existence are worthy and deserving of kindness, respect and compassion. No matter how much fear their activities inspire within me, I continue to hold them in the highest esteem, as I do all of us.
While I hold that a fusion of love, faith and tolerance are the true power that creates worlds, I understand that I don't have the market cornered on the subject, and that others have the right to feel differently. They also have the right to explore all available methodologies to ensure that what they believe in will continue to exist. I just know in my heart that there's a better way, and that soon...hopefully, blissfully soon...we will arrive at that solution on a global scale.
In the meantime, I support those who are currently in harm's way, and continually hope that their contribution to this world will not end there.
And for my son, my beautiful son who has always been a shining light in this world, I know that his cause is a noble one. Like so many other mother's babies, he has been a source of great joy interspersed with tiny pockets of deep sorrow. I know that his intentions are honorable, and that he feels this is the best choice for him right now. As difficult as it is, I know that the most loving gift I can offer my boy is to continue to support him on his path, and to hold faithful to the knowledge that every step he takes on his journey is a fulfillment of his Divine purpose. As his mother, I must lovingly let go and allow him his full expression.
I just hope that I can remember to breathe.
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