Mama, Can't You See?

I wrote the following post right after Grant graduated from college in May of 2010. He worked in the private sector since graduation but has always had a longing to serve our country in the United States Marine Corps.  He is now at Officer Candidates School.   I am so, so, so very proud of him.  He came home for about a week during his transition from his job in Raleigh. I have had many emotional moments (and yes, hours) since he left.   Carl and I loved having him around - helping him, laughing with him, and praying for him - just the sheer joy of being with our boy.   As you read this two-year-old post, you'll understand why.  But . . .  though I already miss him terribly and though I will not be able to talk to him for a long time . . .  I am so thankful for his heart to serve both his God and his country.  

Like I said, I am so proud.

This is our family. November, 2011.

May, 2010  Well, the dynamic of my life has changed yet again. We let our fourth child go - officially - from the safety net of our home. All those years ago when Carl and I were young parents, we kept welcoming babies into our home. We had Jeremy, followed by Jordan, then GraceAnna, followed by Grant. Our fifth, Jameson, wouldn't come along for nearly five more. We welcomed our first four children in rapid succession so now, we're releasing them in the same way.

This is Grant. August 1988.

As I've faced the going away years of my children, mothers who have gone before me have told me that it would get a little easier with each goodbye. Not so, not really except that yes, I know a little more of what to expect each time - kind of like after you have your first baby. You know the intensity of labor, you know what the pain will be like, you also know you made it through delivery and you know you'll be fine and even better when it's all over. You know you'll be holding a sheer miracle in your arms and when you do, wow. Yet, even though you know these things and the knowing brings great comfort, you find that you're still so incredibly overwhelmed and you simply cannot believe that God would entrust you yet again to raise another life for Him.

So for me, the goodbyes haven't gotten better or easier. Yes, I know a little more of what to expect, I know what the pain will be like, and I know I will be so fine when it's over. But as I've walked into it each time, I am still so incredibly overwhelmed as I've looked at these now adult children who are quite amazing and I think how I cannot believe God entrusted me to mother each one. Each child brings a new dynamic to your life - and when each one leaves your home, their particular dynamic leaves too. But . . . after they're gone, if you're contemplative at all, you realize their dynamic has forever changed you. It's made you more dependent on God, made you see how sinful and selfish you really are, and in the end has made you realize how utterly helpless you are without Jesus Christ. Raising children does that.

This is Grant. 1996.  

And raising Grant? You have to understand - there's so much presence with Grant. Anyone who knows him, knows what I'm talking about. He is so much fun. He is all there. He is funny and noisy. He has a great smile. A quick smile. A wink you'd die for. He doesn't go to an event, he is the event.

Four years ago, as a mom, I began the process of releasing him. That was when he entered those transition years, the college years - part gone, part home. He went to the Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina. He wanted the challenge, the discipline, the rigorous physical training, and the academic schedule. My free-spirited little boy - yes, the one who was attached to his blanket.

The day we took him to the Citadel, it was a gray, wet, rainy, muggy Saturday in August. Seems so long ago. I kept saying to myself as we walked all over campus, "I need an umbrella." But it didn't matter, the rain mixed in with wet eyes. We said our goodbye at 12:30 p.m. and we didn't see Grant again. We drove home in silence.

The hardest part back then was not the releasing-thing. It was the fact that I would not be able to hear from him for ten days. That was when first-semester knobs couldn't have phones. So I was left with just praying. And wondering. The days that followed were very long. It's funny how your children never leave your mind or your heart - ever. They don't understand that - and never will until they have children of their own.

The next day at church, we sang "May our homes be filled with dancing . . . " And so OK, I had a moment. My emotions were raw. See, not uncommon for Grant while he was a teenager was his grabbing me in the kitchen quite unexpectantly while I was making supper and then swinging me around to some song that he had turned on, blasting and jarring me out of my quiet. Didn't matter if he was tired from a hot, sweaty day of work or from a long day of classes. He was the same. Smiling, happy, barging through the house, leaving a wake. Not that he never had serious, contemplative, and even aggravating or temper-filled moments. He's a guy, he did. Yet those moments were so overshadowed . . . as he filled the atmosphere of our home with so much presence beginning with his birth.

For example, when Grant was little, he always called me, "Ma!" The rest of my children called me "Mommy" until they grew older and eventually dropped the ending calling me the very plain "Mom." But not Grant . . . no . . . it was "Ma!!!!" as soon as he could talk. And he was so cute with his freckled face and his little lungs hollering, "Ma! Ma!" when he needed me or wanted to show me something quite incredible - like a spider. He was loud.

He used to lick gummy bears and stick them the picture window in our Texas house. Random, I know, but sorry, I'm having a moment.

Another example. As a toddler he would run way ahead of me no matter where we were. Once I was meeting a friend at the neighborhood pool with my four little ones. As soon as Grant saw the water, he wriggled out of my arms (I guess I basically dropped him) and he ran as fast as his little legs would take him and just plopped in the pool. Fortunately for him I caught up and plopped in with him. He kept me on my toes. There was no rest unless he was sleeping. Like I said, he changed the dynamic of my life.

He kept me from gaining weight. Another random thought.  And he still challenges me in that area. "Mom, you would love these running shoes.  Mom, too many carbs.  Mom, you really should do more than just run - try these pull-up bands, do push-ups. Mom, too many oatmeal cookies and caramel ice cream."

Well, now those transition years are over. He graduated from the Citadel May 8, 2010. He had two job offers.  I went with him to North Carolina to help him move into his new place and get settled. The dynamic of the house changed when Grant bounded through the door of our lives all those years ago. And now it's changing again as he's left.

This is Grant. 2010.

But you know what?  Raising children for the glory of God not only changes the dynamic of my life, but it is my continued prayer that it changes the dynamic of the world.

Now it's January, 2012.   My boy - no, the MAN . . .  

Mama, Can't You See?