Off to College

I saw a mom and her son college shopping for bed sheets the other day at Target. I can’t help but remember very well the day back in 1999 that our middle son went off to college. In fact, it was our first experience with one of our children living away from home.

I thought we would never get going because he waited until the day before to pack. That night when he was wandering around aimlessly, I made him a little checklist. Good thing I did, because he would have forgotten his alarm clock.

In less than 24 hours I think I managed to tell him everything I thought he needed to know. Not that I hadn’t been trying to teach him all along, but you know – it’s the last minute second-guessing, wondering if you did the parenting right that gets you.

The drive into unknown territory took a couple hours. As we were parked outside his dorm unloading our car, I quickly realized that the girls I saw moving in were carrying quite a bit more than we were. Lamps, furry chairs, bulletin boards – lots of big stuff. I do remember picking out a set of extra long twin sheets for his bed, plus a basket to carry his shampoo and soap in to the shower, but other than that – he packed up the most important things – his computer, stereo and television. Oh, and some clothes. Plus a pen, notebook and folder.

As we stood in line to check in, I found myself leading the way. All of a sudden I realized – I have to let him do this by himself. So I stepped back.

And waited.

Finally he got in line. He picked up his keys, filled out the paperwork and we trudged upstairs to find his room.

I did the introductions to his roommate. Well, someone had to say something! You guessed it, he is very shy. So shy in fact, that he proceeded to put his computer together without even looking at the other guy in the room. So I did the small talk - my thoughts are in parenthesis here for you to read.

Where do you live? (Just got out of prison.)
What do your parents do? (Alcohol and drugs.)
Do you have brothers and sisters? (In half-way houses.)
What are your hobbies? (Playing with knives and guns.)

We walked around campus and took care of some business. I think we walked about ten miles – or at least long enough for my feet to really hurt. We ate some lunch and then went back to the dorm room. His roommate wasn’t there right then, so I thought we should say our good-byes and get going. No eighteen year old guy wants a kiss from his mom in front of his new roommate. Plus, we had to pick up Mickey at Grandma’s. That’s right, I still have a 5-year old at home to take care of. Almost forgot.

I gave my son a big hug and kiss and told him I loved him. I told him to call me. (This was before cell phones and instant messaging, mind you.) Then we left.

About 29 miles out of town, my eyes welled up with tears. I silently sobbed for a half hour and then was real quiet the remainder of the trip. Finally I was okay - until that evening, when I went downstairs to his bedroom.

As I got to the bottom of the steps I looked around. A lot of his things were gone – but a lot were still there. His golf ball collection and the posters on his wall. His cds and dart board. Plus the clothes he didn’t need to take along. I opened his top dresser drawer. I counted about 52 white socks that were missing mates.

And I bawled my eyes out.

P.S. My sadness was short lived. He eventually came back to visit, along with his dirty clothes. I’m convinced that its God’s way of preparing us for the day our children will leave home for good. Blessings to all college kids on the brink of independence. And blessings to their parents during this tough time of giving them wings.

Something Else Much Greater

Letting go.

We do it all our lives.

We let go and are filled with excitement as we help our toddler take his first steps.

We let go and are reluctant as our five year old climbs onto her school bus for the first time.

We let go and are overjoyed as our daughter finally takes off on her bicycle, teetering back and forth until she finds her balance.

We let go and are filled with fear as our son drives out of the yard for the first time.

We let go and are filled with emptiness as we let our graduate pack his bags for college.

We let go and are filled with happiness as we send our son down the aisle to be married.

We let go and are filled with pride when we see our son become a father.

We let go because each time we do, it is because there is something else much greater to be found.

My sister and I held our mother’s hand tonight as she lay in bed, overcome with tears of disgust over her failing health. We cried with her.

I realized tonight that there will come a time when I will have to let go one more time. Because I know that my mother has something else much greater to be found.

And someday, when the time comes, with great sadness in my heart and tears streaming down my face, I will let go.

And desperately, I will try to remember something else much greater.

Empowering Youth

In my last post, Leap of Faith, I realized after-the-fact that I had just taught my nieces a valuable skill in life. How to paint. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? It’s maybe not empowering them to become the next world leaders, but it’s the faith I had in them that matters.

I came to this conclusion because I’m currently reading the book, Empowering Youth: How to Encourage Young Leaders to Do Great Things and came across the term leap of faith. This book is written by Kelly Curtis from New Richmond, Wisconsin. Kelly’s book is filled with various tools and tips about how to empower our youth to become more socially responsible as adults and to reach their full potential.

Who is Kelly Curtis? Kelly Curtis, M.S., is a school counselor, a writer, a speaker, and the founder of Empowering Youth, Inc., which publishes positive youth development curricula. Her work has been published in numerous anthologies and magazines including Boy’s Life, All You, Chicken Soup for the Soul, and Poetica Grandmatica.

And she is my first cousin. And she was the cutest little flower girl in my wedding.

If you get a chance, please visit her websites http://2passthetorch.com/my-book/ and http://www.empowering-youth.com to read about her book.

And if you decide you want to see it closer up, it’s available at Amazon.com.
That’s where I ordered mine from.

Leap Of Faith

I had a big job to do and not much time.

There were two weeks left to get my student rental ready for the new tenants. At last minute (such as most of my life goes) I decided that the rental was in dire need of new carpet and paint (two bedrooms, a hall and stairway, plus the dining and living rooms).

My sister listened intently to my self-inflicted feel sorry for myself since I’ve bit off more than I can chew and could use help attitude (with the rental, not with the lunch) while we ate. The girls giggled and chatted about teenage girl stuff.

All of a sudden, I thought – maybe they could help me paint. The girls. The fourteen year old girls.

“Have you ever painted before?”

“Just pictures”, they both answered.

My sister quickly processes where this conversation is going and I can see her cringe with thoughts of paint spattered floors, walls and girls.

“I can teach you. It’s not that hard.” I also added, “I would pay you.”

Eyes light up. Ears perk up. They both sit up straight in their chairs. “Yes, we’ll help you.”

We decide on a date and time. The plans are set. I instruct them, “Wear clothes you can get paint on.”

Because I am not entirely naïve, I go a couple days ahead and do the edging.

On painting day, and after a quick lesson in Painting 101, the girls take over. I stay in the house, but away from the paint tray.

Giggling warmed the house all day long. Tons of giggling.

And after five hours of rolling until their arms felt like rubber, I stood back to admire their work.

There were quite a few drips – which I showed them how to catch. And there were a few oops – which I showed them how to wipe. And there were some splatters on the floor – which would soon dry and be covered by new carpet.

And there were my two nieces, paychecks in hand – who saved me at least two days worth of painting.

All because I took a leap of faith.

For the Love of the Game

As I watched the Olympic 2008 opening ceremony the other night, I couldn’t help but notice the faces of the Olympic athletes.

In this day and age, when something so simple as a game is marred by talks of boycott and talks of illegal drug use, we tend to forget the meaning behind it all. Behind all the billions of dollars spent on the facilities, the advertising, the sponsorship and the festivities, we tend to forget the real reason most of these athletes are there.

For the love of the game.

Looking at their faces as they proudly paraded together, filling the stadium, I saw young men and women, much like their peers all over the world. These are young men and women who are not set apart by the color of their skin, the sound of their voice or the wealth of their families. I believe that most of these young men and women are there for one reason only.

For the love of the game.

Although I take great pride in watching our American athletes, I remember that each and every one of these athletes, no matter what country they come from, has a mother (or other person whom they are close to), cheering them on as well, bursting at the seams with pride, and wishing them the very best.

And as the gymnasts dust their hands with chalk or the swimmers adjust their goggles, I'll bet none of them are thinking about where they are. They are thinking about why they are there.

For the love of the game.

Waving to your mom in the stands is just something you do. And the gold medal is truly icing on the cake. Congratulations to our Olympic athletes!

Number Two Son

On Monday, my number two son will turn twenty-seven.

He came very quickly into this world - after twenty minutes of labor on a hot, August day, and just as quickly settled into the number two spot in our family.

My son survived his older brother’s antics – shaking the playpen while he was sleeping, fighting over toys, and fighting for the front seat of the car. He survived being removed from the spotlight as the baby of the family, as he was catapulted smack dab into the middle when his sister was born thirteen years later.

In fact, I truly believe that he is destined to be a survivor.

A tragic automobile crash in the early morning hours of January 18, 2004, left several dead and injured, and one young man fighting for his life – his family at his side. It was my son.

Thrust into the frightening world of torn neurons and axons, I – without question – have devoted over the past four years of my life to help him recover and become whole again. I was determined to embrace with my whole heart the life challenges my family had been given, as we began to understand the reality of the “invisible disability” that goes along with traumatic brain injury.

Looking deep inside him, I found bits and pieces of his personality still intact, amidst all the chaos, and I reveled in the fact that those certain things about him that I knew and loved remained true.

By not grieving for what had been lost, but celebrating what had been saved, I have been able to remain relatively positive in a very negative situation.

I believe that my son’s destiny in this journey is part of God’s master plan for him.

Yes, he did survive the crash, and he also has survived the difficult years following his accident. With our help in keeping him moving forward, he has finally begun on his own to rebuild his life – in spite of how terribly slow this journey has been.

And so on this day, I celebrate my number two son. Happy Birthday, Jonathan.

The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you.” Psalm 32:8

Love, Mom