Thoughts of Mommas and Vets

I am a child of the 60s.   My childhood was spent in a home where my mother's home was bombed by the Germans; my uncle pulled bodies out of the Pacific at Pearl Harbor and in the shadow of Vietnam.  As a teen I heard songs like the Ballad of the Green Beret along with WAR and Country Joe and the Fish.  I remember all the sorrow of the My Lai Massacre on TV.  I wore a MIA bracelet and watched "my" soldier in April 1975 step off the plane after the war was lost. I remember the protests and Kent State.  Tumultuous times and torn times.

Today is Veteran's Day 2017.  In my day I've seen the draft ended and we have gone to an all volunteer military along with all that entails.  But, what is on my mind today are the moms of soldiers and being a momma to sons and daughters of war and peace.

My brother and I are 13 years apart in age.  Circumstances in life kept us from developing a close relationship like most siblings, but seared in my brain is the day Billy joined the Navy.  He thought to sneak out with his duffle bag.  I remember him coming down the back steps that came into the kitchen.  I couldn't have been more than 4 years old, maybe 5, but Momma had a broom in her hand.  Billy came down...  and began to tell Mom that he had joined the Navy.  I saw my mother beat my brother with a broom and scream bloody murder that he was NOT going to do that and what in the world was SHE going to do without him.  And I well remember her crying at the table as he left anyway.   I sat in the chair and watched.  But I do remember her sobs.  Her "baby" was leaving her.  It was only a few weeks later that he came home, but he left again to have his own life.  How things have changed ~ we were between "wars" at that point.  They had too many recruits and if you wanted to come home you got an honorable discharge and that was that.  Billy came home without even finishing his basic.  Mom was one happy momma for a time :) 

Fast forward 30 years or so.  MY son was one of those gifted kids that fell through the cracks and became a class clown.  For a while we agonized on whether he would even graduate or not and after an ultimatum of "job or college" he came home and told my Vet husband that he wanted him to sign so he could join the Army.   Just like my own Mom, I was stunned.  Army?  That wasn't one of the choices.  Things were beginning to  churn a bit in the Middle East.  Where would my baby go?   Everybody was so "proud" of Justin for joining up... Nanny  was thrilled even though Pappy didn't live to see it, I know He would have been thrilled too. My Vet uncle told me it would "do him good". Henry felt this was a great choice for Justin.  All I felt was fear for him and for me.  Things were pretty rough between my oldest son and I.  We fought all the time and I was terrified that I would never see him again.  (THAT is a long story!)   So his joining the military left me just kind of hollow.  But, there was a year to go and, well anything could happen in a year, right?   So we got him through High School, graduating in June, 1992.  And then, he was to go to Basic in August.  I remember putting his Bible in his bag three times.  THREE!  And finally put it in with $$ in Psalms.  And we had an understanding that I would NOT cry in front of him.  Would NOT.   So, with is little brother in the car with us we went to the Recruiters office for his bus.  I didn't cry.  I wasn't allowed to get out of the car.  I kissed him goodbye and off he went.  I drove to the end of the street and sobbed.

My boy was gone.  Never again would he be a boy.  Henry's last words to him would take him far... "Boy, keep your mouth shut and your nose clean and you will do fine.".   And he obeyed.   Justin became the man I had always hoped.  Uncle Sam honed his good qualities and his good experiences and he became more than I had ever hoped.  And that honing has continued to this day into a fine father and husband.  But, as a mom..... I lost my boy.   He became a man.  Every mothers job is  that she has the duty to turn her sons into men.  But, it is never an easy turn for the mom.

Nine years later my Second Son would join the Brethren Volunteer Service.  A non-combatant (a Brethren Boy for sure) he had chosen another Volunteer Army to work for peace rather than war.  The day he left for Colorado I was another hot mess.  This time it was to the airport.  It was just after 9/11 and so airports had changed dramatically and no longer could you go to the gate with your loved one.  I was near hysterics with his leaving.  I had already "lost" one to adulthood.  Looking back it sounds so stupid.  Justin had left for the possibility of WAR and here was the baby leaving for PEACE and I was just has sobby as I had been the first time.  There was something about the realization that when they leave your arms they leave as boys and come back as men.  Never the same.

Mom Elsea was with me this time.  And it was this time that mother to mother we began to understand one another more deeply, I guess.  She grabbed my arm as Young Henry left for the gate and yanked me (literally) into the ladies room.  With tears in her eyes she told me to "Stop it!"  "But, he is my last baby, Mom".  "At least he will likely come back", she said.  "He won't die in some God-forsaken country.  I watched my son leave for Vietnam and didn't know if I would ever see him alive again."  It was at that moment I saw the terror of a young mother of a son gone to war.  And just like me, her son was gone from her arms.   Things would never be the same again.

And so it goes with motherhood.   Being a mother means being a Veteran.  If we raise our boys to be men ~ able to self-sustain; able to be good fathers and husbands ~ strong men, then it means we lose a part of them.  If we lose them to war, if we lose them to life, in the end it is the same.  They are lost to us and we mommas have done our jobs. And because of us, they can become good husbands and good wives and good mothers and fathers.   Because of their strong mommas.

Thank you for your  military service boys and girls and thank you good mommas.   Thank you.

Cloudy days

I love the colors of fall.   When falls rolls round I crave the hot drinks and darker clothes.   And sleep....   I am one of those that tend to have the floor drop out from under me when the dreariness of fall and winter descend.   They even have a name for it now, "Seasonal Affective Disorder".  Science indicates it's a lack of "light".   Which leads me into these thoughts...

Most every scary movie has the bad stuff happen in the dark, in a storm, in rain...  We understand somewhere deep inside, in that God place, that darkness doesn't belong.  The bad happens in the dark.  

I just watched a video on heroin addiction and it started me back thinking about why so many "children" are becoming dependent on drugs...  any drug that will take them out of their current circumstances.   I have six grandchildren and, honestly, I worry about them.  I don't recall this much concern for my own children, but perhaps it's because I was too busy raising them.  

Anyway, as I watched the video it seemed that everyone had a cell phone in their hand...   everyone had a tattoo and a piercing on their face.  I watched someone get a tattoo a few weeks ago and wondered why you would put yourself through that pain for a piece of art permanently placed on your body.  Now, I understand to some degree, because I've asked the question and there is a draw to it.  I've even considered it a time or two.  I get that.  And facial piercing.   Well, I wear jewelry in my ears and that's an age old practice, but facial piercing... lips, nose, cheek, tongue...   that's alot of pain for jewelry.  

From that thought I went to the idea of so many youth cutting themselves.  Wanting to "feel" something.   Consolation in pain.  Perhaps it's not unlike the saints of old who whipped themselves and hurt themselves to be closer to Christ.   But, I don't think it's like that.  I think it's some major mental pain they are going through.  

What is this pain?  Where does it come from inside?   What causes a 20 year old girl or boy to take a drug they know is dangerous and enjoy that feeling it gives?  A 15 year old; a 12 year old?  I mean, I hate how tylenol PM makes me feel in the morning.  Forget pain meds.  I hate them.  They make me feel out of control and that is torturous to me.  They put me in darkness.  But, then, I DO understand that  slippy feeling of alcohol but have such a fear of alcoholism that I just don't often indulge and I want to scream at people who drink daily and say, "What are you doing?"... Don't you realize?    

What is it about our life that makes us want to drop out?  To prefer darkness to light.   Is it technology... computers, phones, TV?   Is it the lack of good jobs?   Is it the pressure of the "good" jobs?  Is it life without God's peace? Is it the constant barrage of news, music, sounds?   

I know the feeling of wanting to go to bed and cover my head up.  I'm feeling that way today, but I don't every day.   I despise having the TV on during the day.  I've capitulated when the girls are here, but then I think, "what am I doing"?   TV should be an "extra" at the end of the day and not an "all day" thing.   I remember Mom Elsea used to have to have the radio on 24/7 and she said it kept her company.   I didn't care for it and preferred silence.  I don't play my radio in my car very often unless Hannah asks.   I prefer the silence.  Perhaps it's because I'm pretty comfy with just me and God.  And on days like this, even then, it's me and God.  I don't feel that down... just draggy.  Right now I'm in the house alone.  No sounds except my typing and the 'clink' of the coffee cup as I sit it down.

And perhaps THAT is what I don't understand.   I am old enough to remember silence.   I am old enough to remember that noise was an intrusion and not a comfort.  

I wish... I wish my children and grandchildren understood the value of silence.  Life without ear buds..  The value of hearing a bird sing or the leaves in the wind.   And for all children of this world, the same and perhaps in that they would learn to be comforted by life, by God and not need the comfort of darkness.   Perhaps they would learn to not need pain to feel alive or a drug to numb them.  Perhaps being alive would be enough.   

And with that... I will quit...   and sit in silence and think and pray...   That is enough.