My son was around 7 years old when he told me what he wanted to be when he grew up; a lawyer. This thought comforted me. I thought, “My son is smart. He’s independent. He likes to argue. He will be a GREAT lawyer.” And then he hit puberty, discovered girls, and refused to do his homework. I never gave up hope that he would land on his feet, but it was shaky for a few years. He was a typical teenager, more worried about current social issues than his future. I remember when we were best friends and I remember when we weren’t. I don’t know how I went from being fun to a nagging “helicopter parent” but it happened and it was horrible.
People tell me I’ve done a great job raising him but I tend to focus more on my failures. I yelled when I should have encouraged. I pacified when I should have scrutinized. I worried when I should have prayed. I believe all of this is just part of being human. After all, I’m still learning how to do this parent thing.
I remember the day I thought I lost him. He was trying to tell me something and I was busy with a task and the next thing I know he shouted, “You never listen to me!” and stormed away. After that he stopped talking to me. I was crushed. I would ask questions and he would shut me down. I was so frustrated. And it was a major turning point in our relationship. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I was angry. He was angry. But we still needed each other.
I was having lunch with a friend one day when we ran into some friends of hers. I knew them from work, but not well. I remember that I was a little annoyed because I wanted to talk to her about some things but running into her friends made that conversation impossible. Still, I listened attentively and participated in the conversation when I could. To be honest, I felt like third wheel as they talked about their children, their work, and life in general. Since we were talking about children and theirs seemed to have turned out so well, I said, “Can you tell me some good parenting advice? I’m struggling a bit.”
I remember the couple smiling fondly at each other. The husband said, “I’ll give you two of the best pieces of parenting advice I’ve ever received. First, treat your children like they are guests in your home.” Then his wife said, “Second, love them for who they are not who you want them to be.”
I remember pondering those words for days. In the end, that chance encounter changed my entire perspective on parenting, and I’ll be candid, my attitude towards my oldest son changed. I began more actively helping him pursue his passions and stopped pressing him for information he wasn’t comfortable sharing. I told him I loved him more and nagged him less. Did I do it perfectly? No. But a change in perspective really helped. I knew he wouldn’t live with me forever, and I didn’t want him to leave while resenting me.
So when he told me he wanted to serve our country and join the Marines, I threw all of that parenting advice out of the window, and proceeded directly to the total freak out. I pleaded with him. “Don’t do this to me!” I tried to manipulate him, “You do know you will have to kill people?” I gave him the silent treatment. And as if to frustrate me even more, when I pressed him on why he wanted to do this terrible (in my opinion) thing, he would only say, “I think it’s what I’m supposed to do.” My machinations worked for a while but one day he went and enlisted anyway, and my carefully constructed house of cards fluttered in the wind. I was devastated.
I’m such a grown up, right?
The one thing I did tell him was that if he decided to join I would support him 100%. I promised that he would never, ever hear me say another bad word about The Marines. You see, I don’t have anything against the armed forces, I just didn’t want to lose my son. I was selfish and weak, and I was afraid to go on this journey of worry. I didn’t think I could bear it. But much like I used to believe I would die without cookies, I have learned that I will not die of worry over my son either.
I have been following his journey with great interest and have written him encouraging letters 2-3 times per week. I have told him all of the good things about himself that I could think of and encouraged him to persevere when he feels like giving up. My very first letter began, “I have always known you would be a leader one day…” and I meant it. For I have known my son to be strong-willed, kind-hearted, stubborn, and honorable; all traits of good leaders. And I have also been telling him for years that if you don’t like your boss–and if you don’t like the decisions being made–go be a better boss. Lead well. The world needs more awesome leaders.
Today he is in the final phase of his training as a Marine Recruit. He must pass this one last test and I am nervous. I still remember the boy who refused to pick up his stinky socks and whined about his co-workers. I used to think if he couldn’t work in retail, he’d never survive in the military. I was wrong. I love that he is just as stubborn as his mother. I’m glad of this because he will need to be. His country will demand it of him.
But as much as I worry about this rigorous training, this is cupcakes. Right now he is under the safe and watchful eyes of drill instructors. They are paying keen attention to his well being and while I am sure he is not having fun anymore, I know they will not let anything truly awful happen to him. As I read the book, “Into the Crucible” I am coming to see the true demands of combat. The author, James Woulfe, recalls medal of honor recipient Fernando L. Garcia of San Juan, Puerto Rico. Garcia joined the Marine Corps in September of 1951 and departed for Korea in March of 1952. President Dwight D. Eisenhower set forth the following citation in his honor:
“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a member of Company I, 3d Battalion, 5th Marines, 1st Marine Division(Rein), in action against enemy aggressor forces in Korea [on 5 September 1952]. While participating in the defense of a combat outpost located more than one mile forward of the main line of resistance during a savage night attack by a fanatical enemy force employing grenades, mortars, and artillery, Private first class Garcia, although suffering painful wounds, moved through the intense hail of hostile fire to a supply point to secure more hand grenades. Quick to act when a hostile grenade landed nearby, endangering the life of another Marine, as well as his own, he unhesitatingly chose to sacrifice himself and immediately threw his body upon the deadly missile, receiving the full impact of the explosion. His great personal valor and cool decision in the face of almost certain death sustain and enhance the finest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”
The author goes on to quote a conversation between the drill instructor and one of his recruits during their procession through The Crucible.
“Well in some ways, we get paid to die,” said a recruit.
“Who the heck taught you that?” snapped Sergeant Lee.
“I…no one, Sergeant.”
“That’s nothing but BS, you understand me?”
“YES, SERGEANT,” sounded the squad.
“Don’t let anyone tell you that you get paid to die. You’re going through three months of boot camp so you don’t die. so you make the enemy die for his cause. You are trained to fight, not die! Do we practice diving on grenades?”
“NO, SERGEANT,” sounded the squad.
“That’s why what Garcia did was so amazing. Not only did he ignore his natural instincts of survival, but he also disregarded all of his training, and for what?”
“For another Marine.”
“There was no political rhetoric; no debate whether it’s a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ war. He ignored human instincts of survival and his training to protect brother Marines. A few of the warrior stations are named after Marines who shielded others from grenades, but don’t think for one second that we are training you to do the same. We use them as examples because they made the ultimate sacrifice.”
The book is filled with example after example of heroes who fought for their country against insurmountable odds. My son has entered into that legacy. His story has just begun.
Jesus once told his disciples, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) And really, what could be more noble than that? Am I sorry my son is not on the path to becoming and attorney? Not really. Not anymore.
So while I have prayed for my son to be uninjured and to retain his health, I have prayed even more so that he would learn well from the drill instructors. I have prayed for the drill instructors to teach well. And I have prayed for the entire platoon to work as a unit. I used to think my son should have a “safe” job. But the reality is, this world is not safe, no matter how much I like to pretend it is. I am so proud of my son. I am so glad he refused to be manipulated by his fearful mother. I choose to love him just as he is and enjoy him when he is once again a guest in my home. May God continue to write his story and to give this mother-of-a-marine peace as it unfolds.
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