Clear as day it was, 6 years ago. I’m standing in the kindergarten Cognitive Impairment class the week before school starts at a ‘teacher meet and greet.’ It had only been 3 life changing months prior that I choke cried on the phone with Kristi, driving home after attending Whitney’s 3 year Comprehensive IEP Eval. I saw the report results. 40 pages front and back, all the different data points telling the same story.

I title this blog Take 2 because I posted earlier this week on facebook regarding matters of social distancing when I was not in the head space to be writing or posting.

I stand by the content, I redact the attitude.

And, in the vein of honesty, Take 2 could be applied to numerous moments of my week. Maybe you could relate to this as well?

I started homeschooling my first child in 2006, when he was 5 years old. I was a homeschooling Mom for the following 12+ years. We have participated in Co-ops, Virtual School, Hybrid Schools, and Community Resource Classes. It was, to this day, the most challenging work I have ever attempted. Honestly, though, I loved it. I am really close to each of my children...and I attribute the culture of homeschooling for a lot of that.

In Evangelical Christian circles over the last few years the phrase brokenness has made appearance so often in both word and concept that I have observed an unintended dilution taking place. The devastation at the nucleus of the word ‘brokenness’ has been replaced by the equivalent of an Insta-beauty twenty-year old sporting her fake glasses and messy bun trying to convince us all of what a wreck she is through humble-brag apologies. Meanwhile, our naked faces, bloodshot eyes, and messy homes realize there is ultimately no safe place...even our messes have to look attractive. It’s freaking exhausting.

Whoa. 7 years ago tomorrow we left Florida. I remember the great unknown like it was yesterday. Having never been to Michigan, I was SHOCKED and disturbed when we drove NORTH of CANADA to inhabit our new Mid-West home.

Leaving was the worst. That short season of goodbyes is vivid, still.

I spend a good portion of my week looking for Cole’s silhouette among the thousands of newbies at basic in photos like this. (Blurred for anonymity) Have yet to find him. But, this picture a few weeks back shifted something in me. I was startled. I didn’t really know this existed. One the one hand...there are rows upon rows of boy-men in prayer. But also, they are actually still boy-men. Shaved heads, camo, and dog tags juxtaposed by the lingering traces of baby fat in their baby faces. 

I’ve started reading James Hatch’s bio, Touching the Dragon, this weekend. James was a Naval Seal, who, in 2009, had his femur shattered by enemy fire during a rescue mission intended to retrieve Bowe Bergdahl

Cole leaves a week from tomorrow.

This interim space is more burdensome than I emotionally budgeted for.

I actually did not budget anything past his grad party, to be honest.