By BRIDGET CURNUTT
Page Designer/
Graphic Artist
pÄ*tri*ot*ism
/'pÄtrÄ""™,tiz"™m/
noun
the quality of being patriotic; vigorous support for one's country
From the moment we first lay eyes on their tiny face, fingers and toes, we do our best to protect our children, and keep them out of harm's way.
As they grow, we watch them take their first steps and do our best to teach them right from wrong, then prepare them for the world.
My phone rings, I glance down, then answer, "Hello."
"Hey, mom."
"Hey, son."
It was my youngest son, at the time, age 22. And, because he is one of those kids that just doesn't call without reason, immediately I ask, "What's up?"
"Well, I just thought maybe you would want to know, I went to Cape (Girardeau) today and talked to a recruiter."
Instantly, I could feel a big lump building in my throat.
As both of my sons approached their teenage years, the dreaded word, 'draft,' often entered my mind. In having boys, I felt a responsibility to make sure they register with the Selective Service at the age of 18, as it is mandatory. I was a single mom and had myself convinced because of that, they wouldn't call upon mine if the draft were to ever be enacted again. Yes, complete self-preservation.
And, yet, here I am, in this moment. A moment I thought I was saved from.
Snapping back to the phone call, I knew he was anxiously waiting for my response. Many thoughts raced through my mind. Should I be supportive? Try to be positive or, what I really wanted to do, try to deter him from it? Honestly, I just felt numb.
Although, he had talked about this in high school, I just thought to myself, surely he's not serious.
Before the conversation ended, I did manage to say all the right things a supportive mother should say, and throw in a few 'what ifs,' for him to think about.
He was, in fact, serious, and for nearly two years, it has been a roller coaster of conflicting emotions.
Intense worry.
Immense pride.
Throughout the enrollment process (and to this day) I prayed. A lot. I asked God, 'Please, Lord, if this is not your will and the direction he is supposed to take in life, please put something in his way.' At every road block my son came to, he pushed right through.
I had to leave it in God's hands.
Sitting beside me in the passenger seat while driving him to his recruiter's Cape Girardeau office in March 2017, we chit chatted about this, that, and really, nothing. So many memories from his childhood raced through my mind. Him in costume with arms stretched above his head reciting the words "to infimininity and beedeeyond!" in his own 2-year-old language, him truly believing he was Buzz Lightyear... doing his silly 'worm dance' while rolling his belly and swaying side to side... And, the many Band-Aids I put on skinned knees and boo boos. All these images, and more, played through my mind, leading me to wonder where all the years had gone.
I fought back tears the whole way. And did great, until I was standing in his recruiter's office. That's when everything got real. I could feel my chest swelling and tears starting to form, I couldn't hold back any longer. I calmly turned around to face the wall and quietly let the moment out. My son put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I was OK, and I nodded my head 'yes.' I could hear the officer in the background trying to reassure me that I was normal and he had seen plenty of mothers cry.
Shortly thereafter, I walked away and left my son there.
The next day, a few family members and I took the drive to the MEPS (Military Entrance Process) building in St. Louis, to watch his swearing-in ceremony. I was determined to put my feelings aside and appear as calm as possible so he wouldn't worry about me, on top of everything else he needed to focus on.
While waiting in the lobby room, with many other families, for the ceremony to begin, a young man slowly walked in with one arm around a highly distraught woman who was sobbing uncontrollably, undoubtedly his mom. I tried not to impose and stare, but my emotions were teetering on the surface of my face, as it was. I heard the young man say, "Mom, I'm fine. Everything's gonna be OK," then vanish into a door, leaving her standing there with head buried in her hands. I put my head down and held my breath to try and hold back tears. When I looked up, my eyes met hers. Mine must have been saying, 'It's OK, I understand,' giving her an outlet, because within seconds, she started walking my way and belted out, "He was in his second year of college! Everything was going great, when all of the sudden, out of the blue, he calls and says, 'Mom, I'm going into the Air Force!'"
Her face was a mess, as she continued on, "Don't get me wrong, I'm so proud of him! I have other family members and friends who are serving in the military. But all I've been able to think about since he told me is, 'No, not my son!'"
Finally.
Finally, someone said, out loud, what I had been holding in. She was exuding everything I had been feeling, but thinking I was crazy. I didn't feel alone anymore.
"It will all be OK, I totally understand and feel the exact same way," I said to her, hoping to comfort her, and myself, in some way.
I turned toward my son, and he toward me, then tears swelled in my eyes as he vanished into the same door.
Enlistees and family members were a tight fit in a small room where the ceremony took place. Thanks to a wonderful man who gave up his position, I was able to kneel directly in front of my son while he, and many other enlistees, raised their right hand and repeated the Oath of Enlistment to the United States Air Force. Watching him in this moment filled my heart completely full of pride and I felt truly blessed to have been able to experience it.
After the ceremony, I had only enough time to give him a quick hug and exchange 'I love yous.' Then, I watched as he walked away and toward a door where other enlistees were exiting. I stood there for a few minutes, frozen. I even started questioning my own motherhood, "Have I been a good mom?" ... "Did I teach him everything a mom should teach their child?" ... "Did I tell him enough times not to talk to strangers?!!"
This was it, the moment I had to let go, and let him take his own steps.
The following nine weeks he was at Basic Military Training (BMT). For a parent, it was complete torture. The first several weeks, except for one brief, orchestrated phone call to let me know he was at his destination and give me his address, there was no communication. No texts. No letters. No phone calls. At times, the worry was unbearable and I was silently struggling every day to understand. I felt as if I was grieving.
A friend informed me of a website called AF Wingmoms. What a blessing that turned out to be and became my lifeline. It was full of information that included his every week tasks, and was instrumental on the important things we needed to know to help us navigate through Basic Training Graduation.
On Mother's Day weekend 2017, we made the trip to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, to watch him graduate from BMT. Those three days were nothing short of amazing. Each day was filled with different ceremonies and activities. From watching the airmen march in formation onto a field, hearing their loud, commanding chants during the Airmen's Run, to the desciplined and perfectly timed stride in receiving their Airman's Coin, which officially means they've earned the right to be called "Airman," was astounding. Powerful. Unforgettable.
My son was out there, on the field, in a sea of nearly 600 Air Force Airman graduates. It was surreal.
From there, he went on to tech school in Witchita Falls, Texas, from which he graduated in August.
Soon after, I picked him up at the airport for an 11-day leave, to come home, pack up his belongings, and then, I watched as he drove away in a U-Haul destined for Seymore Johnson Air Force base in Goldsboro, North Carolina, 14 hours away.
Since then, I look forward to any form of communication, whether it be a simple text, message, and expecially the occasional phone call out of the blue to say, "Mom, I may have the flu." ... "Hey, mom, I bought a new mattress today." ... "Hey mom, we went ocean fishing today."
Those seemingly small things, I hold on to every one.
I love hearing about his job, what he is learning and the excitement in his voice when he speaks of his accomplishments. I admire him for wanting to be part of something bigger, and looking ahead in his life, wanting to ensure a better future.
With each short visit, I've watched him transform into this... man. I realize, more and more, when he is going through hard times and personal struggles, I can't give him Tylenol, or patch things with a Band-Aid anymore. And, he doesn't need me to.
I don't know where this will lead him, where he will go, or at any given time, how far away from me he will be. I have already been told deployment is a high probability. The very thought of that is when anxiety, and fear of the unknown, knocks my breath away. I will cross that bridge when/if I need to. Then pray. Pray some more and leave it in God's hands.
I have always been patriotic. But now, it has a whole new meaning.
My patriotism is fierce.
Every time an American flag waves in front of my eyes, it fills my heart completely full of pride. I am one proud Air Force Mom.
All service members of our nation's military, make one of the most selfless acts a person can make by taking the Oath and choosing honor, code and, ultimately their life to become our protectors. They create a barrier between us and all evil that wants to destroy our great nation. They fight to ensure we continue to live our lives in liberty. 'Freedom is not free,' and every single service member is someone's son or daughter.
All too soon, after the first steps and after our teachings and guidance, ready or not, they will take off and hit the ground running. They will live life their own way.
Mine did, in boots.
Now, he protects me.