To Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn...

There is a season…

 Most of the time, I welcome the change of seasons with wide-open arms. I delight in nothing more than I delight in a cold, drab winter turning to a cheerful, warm, colorful spring. I look forward to rainy spring days evolving into glorious, flower-strewn sunshiny summer days. I literally wallow in joyful bliss when late summer oppressive heat and humidity flows into the glorious gift of a cool, crisp, brightly-colored blue-skied fall. The only season change I do not like, at all, is fall turning into winter. I have no flowery descriptive words to describe that change other than these words: I hate winter. HATE it. Not a big revelation to anyone who knows me.

So, how ironic it is that the seasons of my life are undergoing a major transition just as we are heading into my most dreaded season. Maybe I would be handling the idea of the boys going off to Navy boot camp much better if they were going in the spring or summer. Maybe I would be ecstatic if they were leaving on the cusp of fall.

Yeah, those are the things I’ve been telling myself.

Honestly, these changes that are about to be would be difficult no matter what time of the year they were happening. I know my nest is only going to be half empty, but I already know that I am not going to make a good empty nester.

I’m going to be blunt. I am dreading the coming days and weeks.

I know, as parents, the real, most important job we have is to raise our children into productive, happy adults. The fun we have along the way is really just icing on the cake, isn’t it?

My mind knows that, but my heart these days hasn’t really agreed with me.

These days, my heart has traveled back in time to 1991 when I first gazed upon the precious face of the baby in my arms who was looking at me with an amazing wide-eyed wonder that matched my own.

These days, my heart has swiftly traveled back in time to the many fun years I enjoyed when my kids were little and each day flowed sweetly into another…when the years with my children were spread out endlessly before me…when the thought of my boys joining the United States Navy was not even the briefest flicker in my mind.

These days, my heart has traveled back to days when Brandon and I spent every waking moment together before Justin, and then Lauren and then Rachel came along and joined the Carlson family…days when my knees were scraped from crawling around making sidewalk chalk masterpieces on the driveway and my hair was soaked after he chased me around the yard with his toy fire hydrant that hooked up to our hose. Days when I slung him on my hip and we danced around the living room over and over to Achy Breaky Heart, his favorite song when he was three. Days of snuggling on the couch and watching  Disney and Winnie the Pooh videos. Days and nights of cuddling him on my lap and reading books like "Where the Wild Things Are" and "Green Eggs and Ham." Days of swinging him at the park while he threw his head back and squealed with joy.

Those  are days that are so very clear in MY mind, yet are not in his mind at all because he was too little to remember them. And I doubt he would want me to remind him of those days anyway. So, I remember them by my lonesome little self.

 
Now, in just a few short days (4 to be exact) he will be gone. I am so proud that he chose to do this. But, while I am proud, I am so nervous and worried…with a stomach full of knots. I pray that he thoroughly loves being in the Navy. I worry about whether or not he can handle the physical aspect of boot camp. I worry about whether he will “fit in” and makes some friends. Most of all, I worry about the things that I assume most parents worry about when their child joins the military:  Will he stay safe? What hardships is he going to have to endure? Will he experience things that will damage him, physically or mentally.

 Mixed up with all of the worries there is excitement for the adventures and experiences he is going to have. There are also the prayers…prayers that we have provided for him the most important things a parent can provide for their children—a loving home that he will look forward to returning to. A good foundation that will ensure that he makes good decisions when he is out on his own.

 
I am feeling quite weepy now, so I am going to end this. I guess Part 2 of this will come in a few weeks when Justin is ready to leave. I’ve had almost 5 months to prepare for these days, and I started to believe I would be okay when the time actually arrived. I knew it would be hard, but I really had no inkling of just how emotional and hard it really would be.