When He Didn't Call

I cried today - the happiest tears I have cried in a long time.  I’m not much for crying anyway, but I cried them because my son - whose voice I haven’t heard since July 23 - didn’t call me to arrange his final travel plans.  He told me he would.  He didn’t.  The letter I got from him Monday said that he was told they would receive six minute calls home on Tuesday.  I was primed.  My phone (which I leave pretty much everywhere but ON MY PERSON) was glued to my hip.  My ringer (which is almost always off) was turned all the way up - even at places I would normally be embarrassed to have it go off.  No call.  Wednesday, other parents were receiving their calls still and said to keep the phone on and by me... which I did.  Nothing.  Thursday, again... nothing.  Each day I felt more like I was dying on the inside.  His absence has hit me hard.  I have written a handwritten letter every day - sometimes 10+ pages worth of letter.  I mail them every couple of days.  I stay up hours at night - like I did when I used to wait up for him to get home from work or friends’ houses - listening to the deafening silence that had once been filled with conversation and laughter with my oldest child.  My heart has been squeezed.  That’s the only way I can describe it.   It physically feels like it’s being wrung out of all that is in it.  

With his siblings the day he left for MEPS.

The day we dropped him off to go to MEPS, was a strange one for me.  He was visibly nervous (which I rarely ever see in him).  He was in a different world.  We had driven through the night the 16 hours or so from Dallas to our home in order to get home in time to take him.  The distance we all felt and hated was palpable, but we muscled through it.  We decided to stop and have breakfast at a local family restaurant we had yet to try.  The only place in the whole restaurant that would fit our family of 7 was a booth and table/chairs set in the back corner of the room.  We squeezed 7 into a six person area and got cozy.  It was a great breakfast - despite a bit of a somber mood.

I did well for awhile...after we had breakfast and got back in the car.  We did something bizarre and funny - Mark and I had found some old time gum cigarettes at a vintage candy store we stopped at for funzies on the way home from Dallas.  You know the kind that have a little puff of powdered sugar that rises from the end of the “cigarette” when you blow on it.  I remember being banned from having these as children.  So it was a novelty for me... one that kept us both awake and laughing on the way home from Dallas and on that the kids enjoyed watching each other try on the way to Rockford.  It really broke up the mood.  It’s funny to say that something so ridiculous actually was needful for us right then.  We needed some levity.  The truth of his choice to serve the USA - to be owned by them - in this time of instability, of disrespect for our military, of shootings at military bases and recruiter’s offices, of accidents on Marines bases, etc. was hitting all of us differently and the same.  The siblings were realizing how much he would miss and what would change while he was gone.  We parents were thinking similar thoughts but they were all jumbled up with memories of pond fishing, family dinners and swims, bedtime prayers, helping with homework, birthday parties, and filling up a church pew on Sundays.  I asked the kids and Mark if we could all just pray aloud for him on the way there.  We all took turns, and it was the most blessed time I can recall us having as a family in many years.  The neatest part was that each of the kids prayed for Austin from their own hearts and through the filter of their own experiences.  Sadie (who is our worrier) prayed that he wouldn’t be fearful.  Levi (who is our emotional out-burst/rage monster) prayed that he would have self-control and calmness.  And so it went...  

I didn’t cry at drop-off.  I held it together.  I cried as we drove away.  Then I stopped.  Then, we stopped at a small grocery store on the way home, and I stood in the meat department looking at quantities of meat.  I stacked about 8 one pound packages of ground beef into my cart, and I stared at them.  I cried... in the meat department...about meat.  I cried, because I didn’t need that much meat anymore.   My biggest consumer of red meat isn’t at home anymore.  The butcher who came out to stock meat put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Um, excuse me... I think maybe it’s a better deal for you to get this.”  He handed me a giant bag o’ beef.  “We sell it in these bigger quantities for people like you.”  I put back my individual packages and took what he had given me home.  I’m pretty sure he thought I was completely insane.  :)  

Background:  When I began to parent Austin when he was 9 years old, he had been the “only child” of my husband and was being raised primarily by him and his parents.  He was as sweet a child as I could imagine.  He was pretty much always in a good mood - a “bright sider” I would call him.  He could turn any bad news into good, and I loved it.  He was so much like me sometimes it was scary.  We could talk for hours without taking a breath.  I once had the thought, “I’ve always wondered why I AM the way I AM” - personality, quirks, and all, and when I met and parented Austin - I felt like I finally knew so much of the why.  Only later did I realize how difficult it would make him to discipline.  Every discipline we tried to impose was met with a good attitude and a bright side disposition.  (“No electronics for two weeks?  That’s probably a good thing, because I DO have a book report due, and I should really be reading.”  “Stay in my room until tomorrow morning?  I had a couple of lego sets left from my birthday that need assembled anyway, I guess.”)  I always joked that if I put him in the cellar he’d make friends with the rats.   Of course, he could never stay mad, and he’s usually aimed to please.  

toddler Austin and his pup at the farm

eating corn with daddy

I wasn't allowed to kiss him until after the wedding.  :)

Austin with his best friend and two "new" (at the time) sisters

The last few years have been tough ones as he has dealt with becoming an adult.  He has been trying to deal with hurts of his past, fair-weather friends, disappointment in role models, etc.  He also has been trying to decide whether or not he wanted me to adopt him.  I have always been ready and waiting without pressuring, but I always knew I wanted one thing:  for it to be his choice after he was an adult who was dealing with the adults in his life as an adult himself.  It took him about a year and a half to decide that he wanted to petition the court with me for his adoption.  I was happy, but then I waited for the other foot to drop, and it did.  So many adoptive parents I know talk about how the child(ren) they sought to adopt often turned on them - like a completely different person - when the court date came near.  My experience was much the same.  Austin had hardly EVER argued with me.  He never could stay mad at me more than a few minutes (and vice versa).  He was (and is) literally my shadow.  He is on my heels from the moment he comes through the front door until one of us leaves the other at their bedroom door at night.  To say we had become close was an understatement.  The day I met Austin, I asked God to give me the love of a mother for Austin, and that if it was not His will to do so, he take me out of his and his dad’s life forever.   I have no doubt that He did give me that love... over time, as I asked, He gave me just that.  

Like all of us, Austin has patterns of sin - wrong things that he does on a regular basis.  His particular patterns have been lying (every day, for pretty much any reason), never admitting he was wrong - no matter how painfully obvious it sometimes was, and trying to get away with things he knows are wrong.  Basically... he’s a human... like the rest of us.

Anyway, today’s letter...

“Hey!  I have a lot to write and not much time or space, but I will try to comment on your last two letters.  I hope your letter from 9/29-30 is not your last.  We get mail until and through Marine week.  The last one should be sent no later than like the 15-16th.  I don’t remember all I said in my last letter.  So I may repeat some things.

“Did good on CFT (Combat Fitness Test), not sure of the score, but I did 30-35 seconds better on the hard part of it.  We had our second uniform fitting and bought stuff for The Crucible/Graduation.  Went on a hike around base (like 5-7 miles we think).  Monday we had final drill in the rain.  We did good, and Senior (Senior Drill Instructor) was really happy.  We got third place with 66 points.  1025 got second place with 67, and 1027 got first place with 68 points.  We lost a point because a kid left chapstick in his pocket and another was moving too much when we were supposed to be standing still.  One of the reasons I joined The Corps was discipline... I know maturity comes with time.  Bearing and self-control are parts of discipline, and I have gotten better, but I want it and embrace it.  I change and have changed, and that’s what matters.  

“Yesterday we had our knowledge test and application.  I very much doubt I failed, but I can retry if I did.  There were four fails but I think I know who they are.  We are being treated way better and almost regular by our DIs (and other ones).  They are nicer, answer questions, joke some (we have to keep most of our bearing though), and get plenty of time to eat.  It is nice.  We even learned our first Graduation drill movement!  We started working on our uniforms for our inspection Friday.  PFCs haven’t because our stuff is still at the cleaner’s. 

“My right shin started hurting again, but I had faith that God would heal it.  So I commanded it to be healed in the name of Jesus, and I knew He COULD fix it, but I had faith that he WOULD heal it right then, and He did!  I put my hand on it, had faith He would heal it at that moment and I started praying in the Spirit (words came to my lips and I prayed them out loud) and it was healed.  It has been a long time since I have prayed in the Spirit, and it was good.  I give credit to the Psalms 91 book (he bought at PX), boot camp, and ultimately God for calling me back.

“Today we have the museum visit and listen to older veterans talk about their service time.  Will be a fun day.  Got final PFT (Physical Fitness Test) tomorrow.  Last night we got Cliff Bars and protein bars.  Only at boot camp can you eat 2 protein bars, 2 1/2 Cliff bars, and a handful of Twizzlers and still be hungry - LOL!  Can’t ‘see’ my abs yet, but they are there and I can do 16 pull-ups (twice what I used to).  Still weigh 180 +or- a few, but I will always have a gut.  It runs in the family.  I feel bigger (good), I think because we PT waaaay less and our bodies are finally able to grow back and recover. 

“I loved your last letter.  That part at the end of the middle where you said who I am, that was epic.  A really good calling me out as to what kind of man I am and will be by God’s grace.  I am so excited to be home and start life.  We got our orders yesterday, and apparently I have 7 days of recruiter’s assistance (RA).  So I don’t leave for SOI (School of Infantry) until the 10th of November.  Yes, I will be working some of those days, but at least I will be home.  All infantry got it.  (Nov. 10 is also the USMC birthday.)  Good way to start my real training.  I think SOI is 2 1/2 months but it may be longer.  IDK but they said we could have our phones on certain days when we are there so that will be nice.  Now to comment on your letter:  

“It is nice to hear fall is coming.  We feel it here too.  I feel when you all pray for me.  Like I literally feel it by the day and sometimes half of days.  Please pray for protection (physical and spiritual) everyday.  Thank you for adding me to the church prayer list.  Love it that you got your shirts and it is awesome you guys are wearing them (especially dad for work).  Gives me some pride.  :)  He gave me one just like it before I left.  I remember the day I left too.  I have grown up a lot since then.  The sermon notes and in your letter are really good.  I have some to share when I got home. 

(My favorite part)

“I could have had that short call home, but when Senior (SDI) asked who ‘needed’ to because they honestly didn’t know (their travel plans).  I decided to have that integrity thing and not take it.  (Then I got skipped on fire watch, thank you Lord!)  There is always a reward for doing right (even if we don’t get it until Heaven).  

“So glad you have travel and condo plans down.  So exciting!!  I would suggest to go to the family meet and greet with other platoon parents.  You can meet my DIs on family and graduation day. 

“Well, I need to get back in bed.  Love you and am so excited to see you soon.

“Lots of Love, 

Austin”

I had been reading the letter out loud to Austin’s youngest sister, Violet.  I started not being able to talk when he started talking about his shin healing (which he’s had such bad problems with since first phase).  My favorite part by far though, was the part in which he said he didn’t call me, because he didn’t want to lie and say that he didn’t know his travel plans yet, because he did know them (thanks to me not realizing that sending them would maybe mean he couldn’t call home).  The days I spent weepy and mournful because he wasn’t calling were the same days he was wrestling with conscience about honesty and integrity, coming out clean, and not calling his mom while he heard so many of the other guys talking about how their calls went.  If you had any idea the number of hours of long conversations, disciplinary decisions and enforcing, prayer, and more long conversations, have gone into his issues with honesty and integrity, you would know why tears streamed down my face this morning.  I remember a conversation I had with him back in March when he had been caught in another series of lies.  He had said to me, “What’s the point of telling the truth and doing the right thing??  There’s no reward.  Why should I bother with that when nothing good comes to me from it!?”)  At the time, I wanted to scream, “It’s all about you, isn’t it?  Nothing good comes to YOU from it, but what about the others in your life??  Don’t they matter?”  I just looked at him and said, “You’re not entitled to rewards for every good thing you do.  You do it anyway.  The fact that you think you deserve rewards for doing such a simple thing as respecting another person by telling them the truth really makes me mad.  You may not see rewards here OR in the next life, but that’s not why we tell the truth.  We do it because it honors God and those He made, AND it makes like a whole heck of a lot easier when we don’t have to try to keep our lies straight.  Do it right, and you might just get the respect of those you love.  That’s good enough in this life.” 

I have never been so happy nor felt more blessed to NOT get a phone call from my dear son at boot camp.  He was honest.  He had a victory in an area that is so difficult for him.  I know he will fail.  I know he won’t always act with integrity, but as I have been praying for him and for the other men he will graduate with in these next weeks, I pray they will hear that still, small voice and that they will have integrity and strength to do what’s right, and that I will be understanding and supportive even when I am sad about not getting those calls or knowing those plans.  

It is by great wisdom and for great reasons that the USMC has the rules it does about having no kind of contact with your recruit than that of paper letters.  It has been for the best for us in every conceivable way.  I can't tell you how many times I would have rescued him out of boot camp if I could have.  I struggle between being hover-mom and uninvolved-mom.  There comes a time (or perhaps many times) for many of us when we have to make a decision about the kind of mom we want to be.  One of the most defining moments of my life as a mom came when my first husband told me he was having an affair and would be taking our child with him.  I was hover mom.  Later on, after we had reconciled and had another daughter, he left us without knowledge of where he had gone and if/when he would return.  Again, hover mom.  When he later started having visitation with the girls, taking them one night a week and every other weekend, I had a choice to make.  I could be miserable and eat whole pizzas in one sitting while watching Lifetime movie marathons waiting for them to return. OR I could make some new friends, go on hikes and canoe trips, and be revitalized for when they did come back.  Some things have happened in our lives - a miscarriage, an accident, a friend's child with cancer, our own abuse at the hands of a man we trusted... that have made us the moms of sons that we are today.  Some of us pull our sons in so tight they can hardly breathe and put the hammer down when we see them acting out of line.  Others of us pull away from (or even abandon) our sons physically and/or emotionally for fear of the pain they could cause us.  Others of us baby our boys and come to their rescue - coddling them long into adulthood.  I have been all of these moms - done all of these things.  There was only ever one motive for all of those behaviors: selfishness and control.  By being over-protective I'm protecting myself from the pain of bad things happening to them.  By being uninvolved or emotionally disengaged I'm protecting myself from the pain of a) being hurt by their actions or b) being devastated losing that which we love so much.  By being too authoritative, I am trying to control the way he runs his life.  We aren't happy with any of these choices, because they're not what we were meant to be.  We were meant to give life, to think of our children first, and to protect them by knowing when to draw them close and when to let them go... when to give them a boost and when to give them a kick in the shorts.  

In trying to explain how I feel about this thing known as USMC boot camp, I can only say this:  I've been mourning the loss of our family the way it used to be and fearful about how it will change into the future. I have recently come to the realization that this is the first time in our family's life that a decision that one of our children has made is impacting the whole family so intensely. We were all plunged into these unwanted emotions...grief and fear and loneliness while at the same time experiencing such pride and love for our son/brother that simple paper and pen can't come close to expressing it. On the other hand, these precious written letters describe it so much better than any other form of communication could, aside from many tearful embraces. Most of us didn't choose this Marine family life, but it will define us in a whole new way - for better and worse but mostly for better. Our sons aren't the only ones who are being changed during these 12 weeks. We are becoming something new too...through tears, sleepless nights, and days when we can't eat. We are becoming Marine moms/family. There is no way to do it perfectly, because there is no need for warriors in a perfect world. So we will do the best we can in this broken, imperfect place to be this thing our sons and our fallen world combined to make us...Marine moms. Give yourself allowance to be human. We will fail. We will get down. We will come near to breaking points, but we will keep getting back up, dusting ourselves off, and giving our all for our children, because that's what we moms do. I need God every day to do it.  I don't know how I could do it any other way.