It has been 19 days since my oldest son left the country for a foreign land.
This didn’t “sneak up” on me.
He has been working toward this since he was 17 years old,
so I’ve had two years to prepare for where he is now….where I am.
He is well, and has no doubt he is doing what he was created for.
I have no doubt about that, either.
I’ve experienced such joy in hearing of his happiness…
in seeing his spiritual gift at work…
in knowing of the peace he has.
We have been able to speak very little since he’s been gone.
Where he is, there’s not a reliable internet connection.
I’ve not been able to receive emails from him.
We have, however, exchanged short instant message statements.
Little encouragements.
Tonight, he typed these words to me in a Skype message:
“I miss you ma.”
I replied right away with encouraging responses – staying upbeat, making sure the inflection in my type wouldn’t tell on the tears that were now streaming down my face. Oh, how I miss him, too.
Then he said, “Tell me about your day.”
So I did. I told him everything I could think of. I didn’t wait for responses between statements. I felt his need to connect with the everyday here at home, so I continued:
“Books A Million is closed.”
“Your brother was invited to join the Beta Club. He’s very excited!”
“Your other brother is doing well in school, too.”
“Your iguana misses you.”
“Richie across the street says to tell you he’s proud of you.”
“We spent Friday and Saturday nights with friends from church.”
“The family reunion is next weekend.”
“The kitten has learned to use the cat door.”
“Kevin is still working on the Jeep.”
“Today Kev had lunch with J Mc and Mike.”
“We went to support Rick last Friday, as he played at the coffee shop.”
For about 15 minutes, I shared various details with him, until he finally replied, “I think I’m going to hit the sack now. I love you.”
When he was a baby, he could only get to sleep with rhythmic patting on his back. I’m not talking some soft, gentle patting – he wanted to know you were there as he drifted off to sleep, and only a firm hand would do the trick. And if you stopped just short of his dozing off, he’d let you know you needed to pat him on the back a little longer. Tonight, my baby needed to know I was here. I would type messages to him (pat him on the back) as long as he needed me to.
On this 19th day, I needed the confirmation just as much as my son did.
Praising God for this release and the closeness that was provided between a mother and her son, even though they are worlds apart right now.
Our third day together.
the toenail 