The beginning...

On March 23, 2011, my husband's birthday, we discovered that our 19 year-old, smart, talented, many-options-for-the-future son wanted to join the U.S. Army.  He didn't join right away.  He submitted himself to our desperate attempts to steer him in another direction, all the while knowing that he would eventually be a soldier. 

The day he joined and took his oath, in June, 2011 I think, he sent me a text saying it was official.  He had joined on the delayed entry program so he could be at his brother's Confirmation in October.   My response was, "I'm afraid."  His reply was, "So am I."  Makes me cry now just thinking about that moment.  I let him know that until the moment he left for basic training, I would do everything I could think of to convince him to change his mind and I would not put the "Proud Parent of a Soldier" sticker on my car until he reached the point of no return.  He accepted that.  I'm sure he knew there was nothing I could say or do that would change his mind.

Once he made the decision, he didn't waiver.  I asked him, "Is this something you are so passionate about that you would do it for free, like fire fighting?"  He said, "Mom, I just want to serve."  What could I really say to that?  I was torn between being enourmously proud of him and overwhelmed with fear for him.  That is still where I am today.

February 6, 2012 was the day of reckoning.  I woke him up that morning with a blessing.  "God bless Matt.  Fill his heart with your peace.  Help him to meet life's responsibilities and may he never be separated from you."  I couldn't finish it without crying.  Matt responded with a hug and "Mom, I'll be okay."  Later, at the recruiting office, I thought I would be okay, but at the moment he was leaving, I couldn't help but cry.  The lady who was taking him to his hotel asked if I wanted to go.  I did, but said no.  It was a really tough thing to do, letting my child go, knowing I wouldn't see him for at least 9 weeks and not knowing when I would hear from him again. 

I cried and cried and cried.  Everyday.  For weeks.  I friended people on Facebook I had nothing in common with and probably never would, except we each had a soldier in Alpha Company.  I was so excited when we got the first real phone call and the first letter.  I went crazy sending him things he said he needed.  I tried to write encouraging words to lift his morale when it was low and prayed constanly  for him everyday.  He made it through, week after week. 

When I got the letter from him saying that he had been to Mass and thought of me when they sang "On Eagles Wings,"  which is Psalm 91, I knew that if this is what it took to bring him back to his faith, then it's worth it.