Tribute to Thing #2

He rocked my world over nineteen years ago, when he arrived on the scene. Strong-will and determination were evident from the very start. I knew I had my work cut out for me from the second day I knew him, and he was only 2 days old. James Dobson would have been proud to know he’d be selling another copy of The Strong-willed Child. I had to learn to stay one step ahead of him, for he has always been very smart. When he was eight months old, I stood him up to see how long he could balance. The little stinker walked to me! He never looked back. As a child, he never lacked for anything to do. Never once did this child whine that he was bored. To be honest, many of the things he found to occupy his time with were certainly unlawful for a child his size. I am sure that many a boy has crafted his own bow and arrow set out of nature & found items. But my boy took it to another level when he attached nails to the ends of his arrows. He has always been self-reliant and persistent. Like the day that we were teaching his big sister how to ride her bike without training wheels. Her father and I would take turns running up & down the driveway trying to keep her from running into pine trees, while the other of us was working the video camera. Meanwhile, our three year old decided that anything she could do, he could do better. He helped himself to a set of wrenches. He settled into the task to rid himself of his training wheels. He had already removed the first and was nearly done with the last one, when we realized what he was doing. Knowing how determined he was, we knew the best way to persuade him, was to let him learn the hard way…crash & burn speaks louder than a parent at times. Poor little thing couldn’t even reach the ground to start or stop himself. He pulled his bike over to the little driveway wall and mounted his bike. To our utter amazement he rode, without our help! The only problem was stopping. His only recourse was to fall, since he couldn’t reach the ground. After a few crashing stops, he conceded to allowing us to put the training wheels back on, just until he could reach the ground. He always found the line with his authority, and would often shove his big toe over to see what he could get away with. He was a great soccer player, although perhaps a bit too aggressive & reckless. He received his share of yellow cards for dangerous play. It was his last career game, before aging out of the system, when it finally happened…the dreaded red card! He was out for the rest of the game, the championship game. Luckily his team did win. But my boy was crushed that he was carded for rough play. And weapons? He could make a weapon out of most anything. Popsicle sticks, clothes pins, you name it, he could use it. Loves paint ball, airsoft, hunting, etc. He would buy an airsoft rifle and paint it to look like the real thing. He would make modifications to tweak it & make it the best his money could afford. It pains me to tell this story, but there was one time when the police were involved. I still get nauseous recalling this memory. One day, years ago, his younger brother fetched me with a casual “Mom, there are some people at the door who need to see you.” I scurried down only to find a swat team (my motherly exaggeration) and my teenaged son on the front porch. Officers with shields are holding my terrified son, who is handcuffed, by the way. They asked to see his rifle. An officer followed me up to his room where I found his airsoft gun and gave it to the officer. I told him it was a fake gun. But he took it. Apparently the mail carrier, bless her heart, had ”seen a shooter in our second floor window” and called the police. He had just modified his gun & had been sighting it in. Apparently a plastic BB ricochet off the tree he was aiming at & she thought someone was shooting at her. After a few moments, one of the officers clued me in that there was no real danger, or issue. They wanted to teach my boy a lesson. I agreed. They impounded his gun for thirty long days and he issued an apology for scaring the poor mail lady. While impounded, that gun surprised many an officer that thought it was a real assault rifle. Lesson learned, again the hard way. These are just a few of the highlights of the boyhood of my young man. I treasure each one of the many memories. I really could have written a book with this child. He was truly wonderfully and fearfully made. God chose to design this boy with a strong-willed determination and a spirit that never gives up. He birthed in him a strong patriotic spirit and a need to right injustice. For as long as I can remember, He has wanted to serve in the military. He leaves this weekend to follow the next step in that dream. He leaves for boot camp in the USMC. It will be the hardest job he’ll ever love. People ask how I feel about his choice. I can’t say it is at all a surprise, or that I didn’t see it coming. I have pictured him thusly so many times. With his camo PJ’s and a military-style buzz cut, asleep under his camouflage blanket, somehow I knew. In the quiet moments I knew God was preparing my boy for this day. I have had much practice praying for this child, so I shall feel right at home interceding for my young man. As he steps into this journey, my heart and my prayers go with him. He can do this! He will make a fine Marine. I pray that he holds to the faith that has carried him this far. I pray that the God that saw fit for him to grow into manhood, would be very close to his heart. I am thankful that so many of his friends and mentors are godly Christians, who will be praying for him.

So, yes, he receives my blessing to go and be all he can be, to serve his country proudly, to represent his family with honor & integrity, & most of all represent Christ to a world that needs Him desperately. I am proud of his decision to become one of the few, the proud, the Marines.