Valentine’s Day 2019
Two weeks ago the plan was to finish the Oxford Schools Early College program and graduate with his AA in May of 2020. And, as things often go, in a time of suddenlys, my first born, Colie, decided to leave the program, graduate high school with his 43 college credits this May, and join the Army.
We didn’t see this coming.
He scored high on his entrance exam, and was offered an opportunity to train to be an Army Ranger. They’re a special operations unit of the military, in case you’re like me, and had no idea.
I went from not loving the idea of him driving at night in the snow, to having to surrender my fears on a whole ‘nother level. Like 17 other levels. Night driving and snow holds no water comparatively to jumping out of airplanes. And prior to Airborne school is the RASP program. It’s much like those Navy Seal shows where you’re basically brought to the brink of...let’s just say… breaking.
This all happened so fast and before we knew it we were signing waivers at our kitchen table next to Sergeant Adams last week, hoping to God that we weren’t making a colossal parenting mistake. We couldn’t argue, however, with the drive, excitement, and ownership Cole has displayed the last few weeks. It’s like he’s finally discovered his purpose and met his match. That’s sort of exactly what we’ve been praying for him. And looking back on his 17.5 years, it all sort of make sense.
The emotional processing, for us, has begun. He officially enlisted today, and leaves for basic in Georgia on July 16th. We won’t have contact with him for weeks, and won’t see him for months and months. It’s not going to be a gradual jump out of our family nest like I thought...but rather an overwhelmingly quick, and painfully painful dive...more for us, than him, to be fair.
You raise and pray for your boys to become strong men; humble yet confident, courageous yet wise, understanding that their influence and power is for the sole purpose of serving the least of these. But then when they actually get ready to go, and be, and do all the things, you’re like standing at the shore watching a drifting boat, waving a white flag, yelling...wait...come back...I’m not ready...
I drove Cole west on 59, yesterday evening, through the sadness of winter in Pontiac, to drop him off at the Army post in Waterford. Using the only coping skills I had at the time, we listened to music. I asked him to play for me that song he always sings around the house...the one I always ask him to tell me the name of. It’s Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead.
Sigh, I love this kid.
We drove in silence listening to everything extra loud, and I couldn’t help but do the silent cry thing where you take slow deep breaths to try and steady your heaving lungs, hoping that no one else will catch on. Tim recently told me that Cole lead a worship session at his brother’s church in Kentucky a few weeks ago, and to Tim’s surprise, the older folks started to cry. I thought about Colie’s voice, how it’s the sweetest mix of lovely and meek, how it somehow connects to our universal vulnerabilities, how his voice makes us...if not just me...feel less alone. Driving west, listening to Radiohead, I felt sadness, kind of like putting a treasure back into the ground. I thought about how lucky I have been to hear his voice within my walls. I’m going to really miss this.
Part of my irrational coping has also been focused on trying to figure out how he will catch up on the 9 months of missing our fav podcast. I burst out, ‘I got it! I’ll write you about each episode every week, and fill you in.’ And the amount of order that small straw of control afforded my chaos was just the life raft I needed.
We continued to drive on in silence after my epiphany, and I noted how it felt more like Radiohead was covering Cole, than the other way around. I knew it was one of those holy instances, wrapped in all the happy-sadness of those precious few moments in life that you know you’ll remember forever.
We arrived. I clumsily tried to hug him, and he clumsily hugged me back. I felt kind of bad that I was a wee bit of a mess, but he always knew it’d go down like that. We said a simple, ordinary ‘bye’. He closed the door and walked off. I felt like waving a white flag, yelling...wait...come back...I’m not ready...
But I knew he was.
And such is parenting.
We stop living solely for ourselves.
It starts with sharing our bodies, our rights to sleep, and food, and focus...and ends up with surrendering our rights to hold, and cradle, and have.
It’s the most freeing, beautiful, and heart-wrenching posture I have ever known. It fills my soul and pierces it.
Cole’s met his match, he needs to go, it’s really, truly good. And, just like with all things, Tim and I will figure it out as we go.
If anyone is going to serve and protect and lead our country in the places and things we, the civilians, don’t really understand, it’s not a charismatic, power hungry, compassion-less man I want I charge.
It’s a boy-man like Cole.
It’s a man like Cole.
And, off he goes to try.
I guess you can say that even though it feels kind of like I’m losing him today, and kind of like forever, I suppose, the stronger truth is that since I got to be his Mom, I’ve kind of already won.
