Creating unconditional love on cardboard

Making Aaron's senior table was truly an act of love. 

Wednesday night, on the eve of high school graduation, moms and dads filled the gymnasium for a shining gesture. With Herculean effort, we decorated senior tables for our offspring. I know because I was among those parents attempting, in some impossible way to contain love on a 30"x30" plot of space. Talk about pressure!

For weeks I had been staging Aaron's table at home. With two children graduating nine days apart in two different states, I had to start early to make sure it was good. In 2008, Nate had a senior table and Aaron deserved for me to put in the same painstaking effort. In my practice sessions, sometimes I'd tape a picture in one place on the cardboard and then move it elsewhere. A few of my table prototypes were created actually in Aaron's room so he would see them when he came home from school. I'd anticipate the moment when Aaron would enter. Yes, I said to myself, hopefully he will not collapse upon seeing its beauty. Truly, I speculated, he will notice how I angled the ukelele JUST so, put the candle HERE, the coffee cup THERE and the tiny bell from Ukraine on THIS spot.

Middle OS senior pic taken by Aunt Lorri

And when Aaron would walk into his room, my ear would keen for the slightest gasp of wonder. If a second passed without a response, I couldn't stand it any longer. "Aaron, what do you think?" I'd beckon so desperate for his approval. Without exception Aaron showed his gratefulness. Whew.


Other times, you know, just in case a friend stopped by and you never know when that just might happen, I would do the whole set-up in the dining room and dare I admit, I'd walk down the stairs several times just to get a glimpse afresh. As the mama of three OS, for me with no other girl in my household, it was the equivalent of seeing a daughter in a wedding gown or a prom dress. Don't laugh. I felt joy.

The Hubs found other versions of the table in his office or in the hallway. Some family members were even blessed with text messages and pictures from me marking a new table development concept. A few were kind enough to acknowledge receipt of those pictures. Oh thank you if you indulged me!

I had been crying throughout the day
but vanity aside, I had to get a picture of me by Aaron's table. 

I sewed a swatch of remnant material from his books pants fabric. Aaron approved. Then I stitched a coordinating rectangle of some extra fabric a friend had given me. Aaron liked the manly colors. He assisted my efforts by writing in gold a poem from his favorite author William Cowper and I trimmed the sides of the cardboard with pages from an old family Bible. It wasn't perfect but the time had come for the official unveiling. Insecure feelings never replaced the warm and wonderful sentiment I felt inside.

A sample of one of the many other tables on display.

But I bet I wasn't the only one who spent copious amounts of time on the child's senior table project; based on what I saw, our collective souls were poured onto those hallowed folding tables. We did not create altars for our children, I guess we just wanted our son or daughter and all who passed by to smile and either say, "Wow, I am loved" or "Awesome, someone thinks very highly of that kid."

Another mom breathing
words of kindness upon my oliveshoot.

If you think this post is stupid, then we probably couldn't be friends. If you've read this far, you understand. Let's have lunch. 


Thursday arrived and tears flowed as we all beamed. I gazed and cried stopping by many of Aaron's friend's tables. I noted with appreciation that none of these tables felt ostentatious as if they were trying to steal attention from someone else. 

Oh how I adored seeing a classmate write
encouraging words to my boy, such loving
messages filled these pages.

The body of Christ enveloped the mood. With our individual 7 1/2 square feet carefully crafted, the seniors marked the passage of time. I paused with gratitude over the families represented and prayed for their children's future. 

After graduation, Aaron spent a
long time reading the messages.
What a thankful moment for all of us. 

Have you ever done something like for a loved one? What special things would hallmark your "table"? I'd so enjoy hearing about it. May you all have opportunity for such a celebration of life. 

When things change, sometimes it hurts

It can be a strange thing when verb tenses change. Often it has been my experience that verb tense changes signify a modification in a situation or a person. I'm sure I use them all the time without a wince or a struggle and only notice when verb tenses change if something or someone's situation is different and I wish it had not changed. Often when I do perceive this verb tense change thing, I find myself hurting because I want the verb tense to have remained the same. (Has any of this made sense???) 

Well, this week, I have experienced two significant verb changes. Something that is, isn't. Something that was, wasn't. Something you have, you don't anymore.

On Monday, I lost my job. 

On Sunday, my husband lost his much loved uncle. 

After 7 1/2 years, the job I loved and poured myself into with every fiber of my being, is now gone. In a split second, after an emotional phone call from my boss, I experienced that verb tense thing I hate. I work in non-profit ministry. Correction, I worked and I was blessed to be around people I treasured.  When donations went down to an all-time low, a difficult decision was made and I, along with several other co-workers were laid off. It happened that fast. I harbor no hard feelings (at least at this point) with the decision. It's just that I'm trying to get used to this new way of defining myself. Who am I now? 

There have been countless times when I have wanted to quit and I have dreamed of this day. When I have been overwhelmed by annoying students or heavily burdened by a teenager's story. When a high school girl is picking her nose and eating it! the entire time we are speaking, um, yeah, I want to quit! When a skinny, pale-skinned teenager is bent on interjecting a sarcastic answer every time I speak, you bet, I want to hand in my notice! But then, there are times when a student is crying and her tears have soaked through my shirt, that I praise the Lord because I am there to encourage and love. Or the kids who write to me afterward and say we have changed their lives. Nothing can beat those moments. My job, working with teens and meeting so many in the midst of regretful choices and pain, has been exhausting on every level. Y'all, I have seen and heard more things than I ever imagined and most of it wasn't pretty. But it was my mission field (in addition to my own OS and DH, that is).

But it's that verb thing that is haunting. I found myself trying to figure out what verb to use today. I was talking about my boss, was he now "my former boss?" It seriously stings just to type those words. 

This is coupled with the fact that we are driving out of state for a funeral. On Sunday, my husband called to see how Uncle Bill was doing. We all knew he was seriously ill and would not survive much longer. When Aunt Emmy answered the phone, she told us his grave condition would soon end. We talked about Uncle Bill as we drove to the farmer's market and then, about an hour later, when we were at home, Aunt Emmy called. Uncle Bill was gone. 

I began unloading the bounty from the farmer's market and realized, crud, here goes that stupid verb tense change thing again. 

Uncle Bill was a heck of a guy. He was into everything. An avid Boy Scout leader, a researcher, very active in his church, he was a microbiology professor at Bowling Green University, he was a husband of 56 years and a father of four. And he was quirky. Like you'll never meet another Uncle Bill. They broke the mold, as people would say. For example, he and Aunt Emmy were fascinated with Civil War medicine and attended conventions and seminars about it. Did you even know there were Civil War medicine conventions?? On their way to these conventions, they would stop by and visit. It's there that I got to meet and love good 'ole Uncle Bill. 

When Mark's mom (Uncle Bill's sister) died about 15 years ago, I gave the tearful eulogy. As I recall, he was the first person to come up to me afterward and give me a hug. I will never forget his kindness.

So in the span of 48 hours, I have reasons to weep over loss and verb tense change. We are on our way to Ohio for the services. I have Kleenex, family, memories and my Jesus to see my through.

Angels Unaware

When my OS began his exploration into attending West Point, so did I. We were about to embark on an exciting journey and I had no clue what he was getting himself and the entire family into! I was so clueless about West Point, the United States Military Academy, I had to google it. Where is West Point anyway? That's when I found it is far away. Far away as in New York. Far away as in a 10 hour drive, but about 15 hour of driving time if I'm in the car accounting for potty breaks and not including an overnight stay at a nice hotel. Yes, I am ever so slightly high maintenance. 

It just so happened that the Lord had placed in our lives a great couple, Gigi and Eric. Eric is a professor at West Point and we met here when he was in our state completing his doctorate degree and attending our church and Sunday School class. When the family left for a two year assignment to Korea, we thought we would never see them ever again, this side of heaven.

But that was not the Lord's will and soon, they will return to West Point. We will re-connect with them! When our son was accepted at West Point, Eric called us all the way from Korea and lovingly, honestly explained what R-Day was going to be like for us as parents. In a word - HARD! After speaking with him on the phone, I literally collapsed on my carpet, unsure of how I was going to handle parting with my treasured boy. And not only saying goodbye but doing it in under two minutes. Enjoy this picture I took thanks to my Mac Photo Booth aptly conveying my sentiments last year. Very attractive, huh?  

Since then we have pressed on. And we have been blessed. We have met amazing people who have extended themselves in ways I never expected. I see how the Lord's hand has linked us up with caring families who have been there for us and our OS.

For example, Peggie, a West Point mom whom I never met when I called her because we have a mutual acquaintance. Peggie allowed me to cry on her proverbial shoulder. I barely got one sentence out of my mouth, before the Lacrimal Glands got activated. She was such an encouragement and she listened like a mama who's been there, done that. And she still spoke in full sentences which gave me hope that I could actually live through this experience with some semblance of sanity. 

Then there have been the Hoffman's who take Nate out regularly when they visit their plebe at West Point. Patti gives our OS an obligatory hug from me and has loved my boy as if he were her own. This family knows no bounds of kindness. Such a beautiful lady who even did an eyebrow trim for my husband when we were all together at Plebe Parent Weekend! I love these people! How many of your girlfriends can you ask to trim your husband's eyebrows??? Those friends are few and far between! 

Merrily is a gem too. Although recently faced with the loss of her husband, she is a resilient mama of a very fine plebe. That lady is someone that from the minute she called me on the phone one day after communicating via her husband's blog, I felt an instant connection to and we ended our first conversation saying, "I love you" and meaning it. 

And then there's Kim. Kim works at West Point and she's a grad. Very huah but in no way obnoxious. Kim understands what it's like to be a cadet and she's a mother which is a perfect combination. 

When Nate's birthday rolled around on April 12th, Kim dropped off in our son's room, a bouquet of balloons, a big birthday card and an ice cream party certificate. She has offered to take my OS out for pizza, invited him to an Easter dinner, truly extended herself in ways I could have never imagined. And we have only met once when she recognized me at A-Day. I had a broken foot and a scooter, so I was an easy target and she has been reading my blog for a while. I felt so fancy when she came up and introduced herself! Since then, we have kept in touch and when I have offered to reimburse Kim for her generosity, she quickly rebuffs my offer, saying she does these things gladly and free of charge. Oh, how I am blessed!

I am reminded of the Scripture found in Hebrews 13:2 "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." 

I reflect on this journey thus far and sometimes can't believe how fast my son's plebe year has passed! I praise the Lord because we have survived, occasionally even thrived. We have all learned things about ourselves, our strength, the importance of faith and prayer and developing an extended sense of family. 

Y'all, I am meeting angels. Not the fluttering kind with halos and wings but still divine messengers of God who have lighted this path with compassion. I hope you have been meeting some along your way as well, wherever it may be...

April 12th

Nineteen years ago today, I became a mom. At 6:17pm after an expedient but immensely painful four hour labor, without the epidural I begged for, I held a precious cone-headed boy in my arms. My baby. Who cared if he had a cone-head, he was stunningly perfect. And he was mine to love forever. 

Nineteen years later, the head is back to its normal shape and size but he will always be my baby. You know what is even better? He still lets me call him Baby. He even responds to it. My baby who is now a young man. Strong, handsome, honorable, intelligent, funny, the adjectives pour out of me, I am crying as I write this.

My son, aptly named Nathaniel, means Gift of God. And like all good mommies, I have loved this child from the moment I heard I was pregnant and shake my head in wonder how someone like ME and my DH were bestowed with such a blessing.

Today is Nathan's birthday and it is Easter and he is not here and that kind of stinks for two reasons.

1. I am used to having my son home for his birthday. 

2. I am used to having my son home for Easter. 

As I was decorating my dining room table, tears welled in my eyes realizing there is one less plate around the table. My baby is where he belongs. He is at West Point. 

I don't want to sound maudlin, although I do really like that word. I also don't want to look ahead either because I know once my OS has graduated from USMA, he will be serving our country elsewhere. And it's the "elsewhere" part that can really get my Lacrimal Glands going, if you know what I mean. I don't need to borrow trouble. 

Like most WP moms/dads/families who celebrate Easter, my cadet is there and I am here. We have to get used to this, buckle up our boot straps, put our big girl panties on, blah, blah, blah, but y'all, I'm still sad and wistful. Thinking back to all the April 12ths where I woke up and hugged my boy tightly as he rolled out of bed, where did that time go? Or the April 12ths when I scooped him up out of his crib wondering if I would ever get a good night's sleep.  Poof, they are now history.

And as is our family custom, in all the subsequent April 12ths, Nate would have finely festooned presents awaiting him at the kitchen table. One year a Barney, another year a dollhouse (it's a LONG story and for the record, HE didn't want the dollhouse), a bike but this year, I sent his presents away. My kitchen table has the Sunday paper and is decorated with crumbs and cereal bowls. Sigh. Poo. 

My friend Beth Anne gave me a present last year as we were preparing for Nathan's departure to West Point. I have such kind and loving friends, I actually got presents at Nate's farewell party! But my friend Beth Anne gave me something that will sit atop the dining room table this Easter dinner. I placed it there last night and of course, the Lacrimal Glands activated. They are in full activation mode as I write this, folks. 

To me this little figurine describes how I feel. I hold my Soldier close to my heart wherever he is. Now it's West Point, one day it will be "elsewhere." I hold all my OS intimately in my heart and praise the Lord, the other two are still home to annoy/love/pester/snuggle/amuse me.

Today I celebrate two things which have changed my life.  Nearly 2000 years ago, Jesus, the perfect, matchless Son of God rose from the dead to give me and the entire world, eternal life and victory over sin. I asked Him into my heart 12 years ago and have never been the same. 

And the other blessed event happened a fleeting 19 years ago when that same Jesus allowed me to become a mother to my Gift of God. Happy birthday Baby!

Spring Break Ends

It's hard to say whether I would be this sad if my son were at a different school. He had the opportunity to go to a distinguished university about 45 minutes away. I assume I would have cried when we dropped him off at his dorm and I would have cried when he wasn't home on the weekends.

(the picture is my very poor attempt to artistically depict my state of sadness. I am in the tv room but have superimposed a rollercoaster thus showing you that I am having a rollercoaster of emotions. It is very profound.)

But I think I cry more than I would have and today is devoted, in part, to crying. I am sad. My husband just dropped our son off at the airport and I sit here typing away, with tears in my eyes. I'm on my way to church but I would feel awkward appearing so vulnerable. Not caring if anyone reads this or comments, just using this computer as an outlet for my sadness. 

I know I am not alone. There are West Point mamas all over the country preparing their hearts for the farewell. There are other brothers (and sisters) who are wiping away tears and there are dads who are trying to put on a strong front but inside they are weeping. And then there are families who might be sad because their son or daughter didn't come home for Spring Break and wish they had a week's worth of time with their Soldier. Anyway I look at it, it's emotional. 

I was surprised at the bevy of tears I have shed this time. Memories of last year flooded inside me as I think I alone could have solved our state's drought with the amount of uncontrolled crying jags I incurred. 

It's just that I love this kid. I mean really love this kid. I mean, his name means Gift of God, for goodness sake! I don't even understand how a wretch like me ended up with three amazing sons and I am stupefied how someone like me ended up becoming the proud mama of a Soldier and a West Point cadet. So there we were all sitting around the dinner table last night and the water works started. We made our usual gross jokes about things most courteous people never discuss during mealtime but then it hit me. And I felt the tears stream down my face. Nate remarked, "this is the saddest dinner I've ever had!" What he didn't know is that I was actually staving back the ache in my heart. I could have really let loose!

My precious middle OS, Aaron held my hand as my husband prayed before we ate. He looked at me tenderly and squeezed my hand extra tight. Then he put his arms around me and reassured me, "It's gonna be ok, Mama," he smiled and seemed to understand. 

I'm on my way to church and I'll be bringing Kleenex and I'll be better. Thanks for listening.