So today I am sitting in our hotel’s business center typing away. Our flight leaves in a few hours and the goodbyes are imminent. Paul and Alex have spent the morning moving all of his boxes to his new apartment while the rain comes down. Quite a few hiccups, a whole lot of prayer and a bit of stress have filled our morning as we once again see God come through in the last seven hours… never late but we would have appreciated it a bit earlier. Yet, that sounds like God, drawing us out a bit more in faith, showing us that no matter how it looks He still can make something out of nothing.
I wish I could report to you that now everything is all in place and it will be a cake walk for Alex from here. Unfortunately life doesn’t work that way. There is still paperwork and all of the unknowns ahead as he begins work at a new job, develops relationships with his new roommates, tries to maintain contact with the friends that he has grown to love, and begins to lean deeper on God and not himself. One thing is for certain though and hasn’t change one bit, his Mom and Dad love him dearly. We will stand in the wings and cheer him on, always ready if he needs a quick change or a moment of refreshening.
We know for all of our children that these are the greatest steps that we could ever desire for them; a new marriage, a new career and life in the city of one’s dreams, and stepping into the passion that has filled one’s every waking moment since third grade. But for Mom and Dad, we wish we could slow it all down and gather them to us one more time and say, “Don’t worry. We will take care of it all, just rest.”
I guess that is God’s job now. In reality it has been His all along and we were blessed enough to be along for the magnificent ride!
On Wednesday night after a wonderful production of “Jersey Boys” my son and I sat on the patio of one of Broadway’s restaurants. Alex began to talk about everything that he was undertaking by starting his life anew. He was still waiting for news on signing a lease and we were leaving on Friday. All of his belongings were in a storage unit in the Bronx and the one thing he really wanted was help moving. Unfortunately every time we asked a question it only led down a rabbit hole of more unanswered questions from potential new roommates and faceless leasing agents. We were playing the waiting game, but Alex was the one that was shouldering the load as a newly minted working adult.
To say this makes it easier for a Mom and Dad is completely false. After spending the evening listening to Alex and cancelling all our plans for the next two days in order to be ready at a moment’s notice, we finally fell into bed. A few hours later I was awoken by a huge rarity, my husband was tearful. I know it may seem that Paul and I just sit around weeping uncontrollably between the hours of 2:00 am – 5:00 am, but it actually is quite odd. The last time I remember my husband this way was when he left Alex at the Princeton train station to start his life at university.
As I became coherent and asked if he was feeling sick, it dawned on me what was really happening. Apparently he had been up writing Alex a card and responding to the lovely thesis dedication, while sharing what all of these two weeks have meant to him. Paul looked at me and said, “We’ve never been here before.” It took me awhile to understand what he was saying.
Yes, we have had a child graduate from college, yes we had visited NYC before. Yet we had never been parents of a young man that chose to begin his life in another part of the world and had to face it physically alone. All of our children have travelled and living in another country has been attempted and conquered, why was this so different? During each of those times abroad our children knew it was only a matter of months and then they could return to the familiarity of college, a place they felt they belonged. Today all of our children are leaping out of the nest without the safety net of a university life to return to. Paul spoke of Benjamin, who will be in a similar but even more intense place in a year, when he graduates and commissions in the U.S. Army. In just a matter of days of our return to L.A. we will head again to the airport to drop him off in his fatigues and wait weeks to hear how he is doing in Kentucky.
No wonder we were a mess. We were standing on the sidelines of our children’s lives watching them attempt flying on their own. As parents who started very young and had to rely on ourselves, it is quite painful to watch your children begin their own journey. You want to stop the clock, hold them close and tell them that you will take care of everything. Unfortunately when your children’s dreams are bigger than you and God is taking them on their own adventure you must step back. You must let them take the reins and learn to trust God the way you have in the past 25 years, essentially you must let them grow.
But growing pains are real and your kids are just as torn about the changes as you. Part of them wants to “just buy a plane ticket and come home”, but some thing bigger pulls them forward… and that stretching hurts.
Tomorrow “Last hours to lift off… for all of us!”
In that quiet room with the rain coming down outside Alex shared with us in short starts and stops what had to be done. Bear in mind that necessity due to deadlines crashes relentlessly with the weight of emotions for these students. Parents and family members want answers and students have so much going through their mind that a “TILT” sign should register above their heads. Though process time is what is truly needed, it is denied by the ticking clock. Craig had just landed in NYC and we all had to move… now.
Paul and Alex went out into the storm to take V to the train station, then headed to his dorm room. I sat in the empty dorm room and let the tears fall. Everything in me wanted to buy back another year for Alex, to keep him in this marvelous place that had grown so dear to him. Paul returned and handed me a book. It was the bound copy of Alex’s thesis, the night before he had written a long dedication to his father on the first page. Those words are what every father hopes his son would think of him when he becomes a man. It was another glorious gut-clencher for two parents who were really trying to not bawl in front of their son.
In the next few hours we took direction from our son, who had worked out everything in his head days before but had told us nothing about his plans. (Something a detailed, organizer such as myself feels most comfortable doing. NOT!) An exercise in patience for this “All Right Let’s Get This Done” mom.
All around us, bleary-eyed graduates did the same thing, answering questions posed by well-meaning parents while facing the the fact that this was really the end. It was overwhelming and there was a deadline… no one could stop the clock. Imagine 1,400 type-A personality leaders and over-achievers trying to leave the bubble that is college all at the same time.
Morrie Schwartz once talked about how it was amazing that the world still went on around you even though your world had been dramatically changed and begins to move in slow motion. That was our last couple hours at Princeton. The rest of the world and FB still continued and posts flew of food, funny cat videos and smiling selfies, while our son sat in his empty dorm room facing the future and all the questions of the unknown. And all we could do was watch.
Tomorrow I will share what happened in the last two days of NY, when we had to leave our son to go it alone once again.
At the beginning of this year I started a project 365 Grateful Memories with daily pictures that helped me focus on being appreciative of everything in my life, even the little things. It became a bit hard 2 months in when I hit the anniversary of my Pop’s death and slowly the project fell into silence due to busyness and life.
Today I picked it back up without so much pressure to do it every day… but to still focus on 365 days of grateful memories no matter how long it takes to accumulate them.
The picture that goes with today’s post unfortunately will never make the internet due to regulations, but it is embedded in my brain since my son was nice enough to show it to me when I picked him up for Spring Break.
Once situated in the car for the ride home he smiled at me and said, “OK, I have something to tell you, but I wanted to wait until you could see me and know that I am safe and unharmed.” These words never bode well for a mother and my eyes widened as I waited for him to continue. He was already on crutches and in a camp boot from a sprained ankle two weeks before, what now?
Benj proceeded to tell me that three days before when his unit was training in the San Bernardino Mountains his group had been climbing a steep trail and gone too far. They reversed and began to inch backward when a wind gust pushed their Ford Explorer into a sideways roll off the trail. Before they knew it they had come to a stop upside down. Trapped in the back amidst ammo cans and equipment, Benj was unharmed. The two others in the vehicle were able to get out and escape with only a slight concussion when one hit the ceiling when removing their seat belts. Benj was the last one out and when they inspected the vehicle it was a total loss, but thankfully not a loss of life. These three walked away. Praise God.
The picture he showed me was an upside down Ford Explorer within the brush. It isn’t posted here, but it is in my heart forever because next to it was my son and he was smiling.