The last two weeks of my life have been some of the roughest weeks I’ve ever had. Since my son left for West Point, I have been through the wringer. The whole “my baby is leaving home” thing is very, very hard. But add to that the whole military thing and I’ve been a basket case. Not knowing how he is doing has been one of the hardest times as a mom I have ever experienced.
A letter finally came, written a week after he got there. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t reasonable for me to expect something sooner from an 18 year old, but I was sick with worry and the blackout was unbearable. My greatest fears have been temporarily allayed somewhat by the news that he is doing fine, all things considered. But I know the next four years, should he decide to stay, will be up and down for him, for his father, for me.
The letter is like gold. It is a simple, quick one page note that gives a brief outline of how his days are going, and asking for things that he needs. I have read it over and over. I don’t know if I think I’ll find something else in it, but I read as though it were new each time. The part that moves me the most is near the end of the letter. Just one sentence:“I found a new faith home here, and I might try to join the Praise Team for the Protestant service.”
God is at work in his heart and mind. Away from home, on his own and he goes to chapel without being dragged out of bed. He could just sleep in Sunday mornings. They allow that for those who choose not to go to Sunday services, but he has chosen to seek out other Christians and to feed on the Word. The only book he took with him was his bible. In it, when he has a moment or two, he will find the strength and courage he needs to succeed in the task that lies before him.
He believes in what he is doing. How could I believe any differently? I believe in his abilities, his drive and his passions, just as I believe in God’s. My son is becoming a man, if not right before my eyes, at least in his letters that will follow and the phone calls that will be made. There will be rough times, times of questioning, but God is faithful and in the end he will make his plan come to fruition, whatever that may be. As the bible says, there is a time for everything. This is a time of change, of upheaval. God is in it when all is said and done. In that truth is comfort.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
Time Marches On
I want to say up front that this is not an uplifting bit of writing. Blogs are just public journals, so I write what I know and it may or may not strike a chord in the reader. What I write might make you laugh or cry, become angry or be contemplative. It is what it is.
I looked at myself in the mirror a bit closer this morning. I was dismayed by what I saw. Time has marched on all over my face. Crows feet extending out from my eyes, laugh/frown lines around my mouth, and sagging cheeks. My neck is lined and loose.
It’s strange how we really don’t notice the signs of aging. I don’t understand the whole aging process. It creeps up slowly until one day we wake up and realize we can’t do the things we did when we were younger. Parts sag, joints complain, eyes strain, backs hurt. But today it’s as though this were a flash news item: “Susan is older!”
There is a sadness to it. Somehow, as my son was growing up, youth was slipping away from me and I simply ignored the signs. He kept me young, or at least kept me lively. I had to keep up with his endless energy, the little legs that ran from one place to another. As he grew, his energy turned to other endeavors, but I still kept pace. Now that he has left for college, I find my energy has flagged. There isn’t the needed drive to keep running with him. I’ve hit a wall.
It’s always been a shock to me when I watch old movies, seeing actors in their prime, then see them as they are today. I see it when I look at my mother. She just got old. I wonder how it happened and wonder why it’s happening to me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. I’ve always known that people get old and die, but somehow I guess I thought I would escape. I grew up in the generation that said you should not trust anyone over 30, the generation that would stay young forever. Well, I’m way over 50 so I guess am not trustworthy anymore and the prospect of endless youth has turned out to be a bust.
The old newsreels that once played in movie theaters were entitled “Time Marches On.” Indeed it does. It waits for no one. I wonder what my sons thinks when he looks at me, as he remembers me from his childhood. It’s been a gradual process so it may not have been that noticeable, but when he comes home for break, he may notice for the first time that his father and I look older than he remembers.
It would be painfully, deeply and endlessly depressing were it not for the God factor. He said we would return to dust, but added a promise to it, that we would be resurrected with new bodies that would never age and break down again. I don’t claim to understand his plan. It is what it is. He knows what he’s doing, and allowing us to grow older and weaker is what makes us yearn for something more, something better—the something that he has planned for us.
Life gives and takes. But God is in the midst of all of it. There is a plan for every stage and age. Though our steps may falter as we grow older and circumstances change, he guides us and prepares us for what is yet to come, the better life, the life spent with him, forever young and forever loved.
Though I have a body that is slowly dying, I also am aware of the hope that is eternal. I know that I have a future, that all who put their faith in Christ have a future that is beyond our comprehension. Getting older is not a hopeless and futile end, it is just another phase of this temporary time in our existence. God has something better in store and that is what I will try to remember when I next look in the mirror.
I looked at myself in the mirror a bit closer this morning. I was dismayed by what I saw. Time has marched on all over my face. Crows feet extending out from my eyes, laugh/frown lines around my mouth, and sagging cheeks. My neck is lined and loose.
It’s strange how we really don’t notice the signs of aging. I don’t understand the whole aging process. It creeps up slowly until one day we wake up and realize we can’t do the things we did when we were younger. Parts sag, joints complain, eyes strain, backs hurt. But today it’s as though this were a flash news item: “Susan is older!”
There is a sadness to it. Somehow, as my son was growing up, youth was slipping away from me and I simply ignored the signs. He kept me young, or at least kept me lively. I had to keep up with his endless energy, the little legs that ran from one place to another. As he grew, his energy turned to other endeavors, but I still kept pace. Now that he has left for college, I find my energy has flagged. There isn’t the needed drive to keep running with him. I’ve hit a wall.
It’s always been a shock to me when I watch old movies, seeing actors in their prime, then see them as they are today. I see it when I look at my mother. She just got old. I wonder how it happened and wonder why it’s happening to me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. I’ve always known that people get old and die, but somehow I guess I thought I would escape. I grew up in the generation that said you should not trust anyone over 30, the generation that would stay young forever. Well, I’m way over 50 so I guess am not trustworthy anymore and the prospect of endless youth has turned out to be a bust.
The old newsreels that once played in movie theaters were entitled “Time Marches On.” Indeed it does. It waits for no one. I wonder what my sons thinks when he looks at me, as he remembers me from his childhood. It’s been a gradual process so it may not have been that noticeable, but when he comes home for break, he may notice for the first time that his father and I look older than he remembers.
It would be painfully, deeply and endlessly depressing were it not for the God factor. He said we would return to dust, but added a promise to it, that we would be resurrected with new bodies that would never age and break down again. I don’t claim to understand his plan. It is what it is. He knows what he’s doing, and allowing us to grow older and weaker is what makes us yearn for something more, something better—the something that he has planned for us.
Life gives and takes. But God is in the midst of all of it. There is a plan for every stage and age. Though our steps may falter as we grow older and circumstances change, he guides us and prepares us for what is yet to come, the better life, the life spent with him, forever young and forever loved.
Though I have a body that is slowly dying, I also am aware of the hope that is eternal. I know that I have a future, that all who put their faith in Christ have a future that is beyond our comprehension. Getting older is not a hopeless and futile end, it is just another phase of this temporary time in our existence. God has something better in store and that is what I will try to remember when I next look in the mirror.
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