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The Best Read Aloud EVER

Today, after completing a virtual run (more about that in a later post), I arrived home to find something special in the mail…

My heart beat a little faster when I saw THREE letters from Rooster.

Three!!!!

This is the first “real” written communication, other than the postcard that arrived last week, that I’d received since he left two weeks ago.

The Mr. was out shopping, and I texted him the news.  I knew I had to wait until he got home to open the envelopes.  Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long.

I sat down at the dining room table while the Mr. stood.

Anxious much?

We opened the envelopes and determined the order in which we should read the letters.  Rooster had dated each one.  Thank goodness!

And thus began the best read aloud ever.

The first letter started off with, “I’m doing well.”

Yes, we needed to hear these sentiments.  It was a good way to begin.

He said that he liked his MTIs (military training instructors), and that he’d been sick the first day he was there.  Oh, that was hard to read.  Who likes their babies being sick when we can’t tend to them?

The letter was brief.  We didn’t care.

On to letter #2.  It was even shorter and told us to ask for details from his girl, to whom he’d written much more.  Ahem.  At least he wrote!!

Letter #3 got us in our “feels.”  It was the longest of the three.

He told us that he missed us a lot.

I’m crying even as I write this now, just as I did when I read those words the first time.

He told us about specific things he missed.

The waterworks were on full-blast at this point.  The moments he shared were exactly what we’d been missing too.

He explained why he hadn’t been able to call and when he expected to be able to phone us next.  It won’t be soon enough, let me tell you.

The most precious words he shared were “Love you guys!”

Y’all, I read aloud for a living.  It’s what I do as a reading teacher.

Today, reading my sweet boy’s personally handwritten letters put my fluency skills to the test.

The emotions were raw.

I will tell you one thing that is good about not being able to communicate via the phone.

Writing letters back and forth is forcing us to talk the old-school way.  It’s a lost art form, precious but rare.

The Mr. and I have written our Rooster letters (we each write our own) every single day, starting with the night before he left (we snuck those into his travel bag, which he found his first night).

It’s probably no surprise to you that I find the process cathartic.  I NEED to write to process my feelings.

I look at each letter as a continuous conversation with the son who would sit and chat with me for hours about random stuff.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I will be the happiest mama on earth when he gets his phone back after basic training is over; however, I’m choosing to look for silver linings in my current circumstances…to find joy in the smallest of things.

Seeing my boy’s handwriting, taking note of his excellent grammar (I did something right as a mother and English specialist), and holding pieces of paper that he held three or four days prior lifts my spirits and helps ease the anxiety of not being able to hear his voice whenever I want.

I pray that these special read alouds are repeated…often…hanky in hand…heartstrings pulled taut.  These will be treasured moments, tucked into my heart to be pulled out time and again as I remind myself just how blessed I am.

How We are Coping

Dear Rooster,

While you’re off learning how to wear camo and keep your face clean-shaven, we’re just over here, counting down the days until we get to see you again.

We still have a longgggggggg way to go.

The waiting is exhausting.

If you need us, we’ll just be chillin’…in between letter writing…you know, like sleeping, which is something you’re probably not doing a lot of these days.

We love you and are praying for you, even while we snooze our days away.  Honestly, sleeping helps pass the time until we can be reunited with our boy wonder.

Love,

Mama, Pele, Molly, and Gambit

Little Things

You’ve heard the saying that it’s the little things in life that make a difference.  I can honestly say that it’s been the little things that have made my heart soar and the tears flow lately.

As of today, my Rooster has been gone for one week.  He’s officially in Week 1 of his basic training.  The first week isn’t really counted because of all of the processing that has to be done.  I can’t say that I have found a new normal yet because seemingly small things keep hitting my heart.

Little things like a student whispering, from the back of the room, that she’s praying for me after I broke down in tears last Tuesday morning when her class came in.

Things like pulling up to the house, opening the garage, and seeing Rooster’s car…clean from his last trip to get it detailed.

My heart did a slow dive when, on Thursday, we drove that same car out of the garage and met Super Sis and her hubby and turned the keys over to them for my youngest nephew.

Pulling up to the house every day since then and seeing the empty spot in the garage still makes my heart sad.

A simple thing like the sound of my cell phone going off during my lunch break on Thursday, looking down, and seeing my boy’s name on the caller ID made me jump up like I’d seen a spider.  He was calling to give me his mailing address.

His small, deep chuckle, given at least twice while we chatted, assured me that he was happy.

Who knew that a mere two-minute phone call could stir the heartstrings so much.

There was the sunny afternoon, which I spent part of outside on Saturday while on a lunch break during a school district-sponsored technology expo I attended that day.  Oh word, but my soul was refreshed as I soaked in the warmth and the view.

There’s the grocery shopping, which the Mr. mostly does for us, and the fact that we don’t have things like Cheez-Its and power bars on the list any more, and the two empty chairs around the table…one of which was only recently vacated.

That hit pretty hard on Sunday.

And then today…one small piece of card stock…

A postcard from my boy in the scripted language of his military branch announcing that he’d made it to Basic safely.  On it was his mailing address, which he’d tailored to fit his specific information.

Knowing that he had held this card in his hands only a few days ago…that he wrote my name on that card…these thoughts made my heart rise in joy.

I don’t know that I’ve been one to take things for granted; however, I am especially sensitive to the smallest occurrences in my life right now…evidence of God orchestrating everything, fulfilling His purpose in my life and those I love.

A Thoughtful Gift

As you may have read already, my Rooster boy left for basic training on Monday.

I returned to school on Tuesday, and my nerves, to say the least, were on edge.  Tears poured forth at the beginning of my first two classes as my students asked me how I was doing.  All year, I’d shared with them Rooster’s looming plans, and they knew the reason why they’d had a sub the day before.

When my sixth period class arrived, one of my girls handed me a piece of paper…

At first, I thought she was simply showing me one of her incredible pieces of art.  She’s very gifted, as you can see, and I’ve had the pleasure of looking at her work all year.

When I tried to return it to her, she told me that it was mine to keep.

I don’t know if you can see the details, but she created the entire drawing by writing out the words, “The boy who lived” over and over and over.

It truly is creative and something I’ve never seen before.

She told me that she was giving it to me because she knew how upset I was about my son leaving, and she also knew how much I love Harry Potter.

In case you’re new to my blog, you might not know that I teach Intensive Reading (a remedial class) to high school students…mainly tenth graders.  Behavior and attendance are huge issues that I face daily.  Building relationships is KEY to classroom management and teaching the standards.

Sometimes, it takes all year to establish relationships.  Sometimes, these things happen quickly.  Every year is different; no two classes progress at the same rate.

It’s usually between January and February when I start seeing maturity in my kiddos.  This year, it’s taken a bit longer.  For some reason, they thought getting “turnt” in the middle of the week or any other random day was okay…even with testing around the corner.

Yet, with the bittersweet moments of my sweet boy leaving home, and my very openness of my love for him and sadness, my students have really blossomed.

This week, they extended arms of love and support as I worked hard to stay professional so we could finish strong before they test next week.

This student’s gift…so personal and one truly from her soul…solidifies what I’d been feeling from the beginning of the school year.  The groups of students I’m teaching this year are extraordinary.  Yes, I know that they are every year, but I’ve made stronger connections with these kids.  Last year was a big struggle; the kids in one class never completely fell into a compliant state of being.

I know that this year, when my kids leave, I will really miss them.

These teens have been through a lot in their young lives, and they used their own experiences to forge even stronger bonds with me.

I am so blessed…a feeling I share with them nearly every day.  Truly, I am blessed.

Ready to Jump Back in the Saddle

Well, now that Rooster is gone, I need to find a new normal.

Part of that is going to be reinvigorating this blog, which I’ve really neglected since last summer.

I suspect that getting the unexpected news of him joining up with the military was the key factor that took some of the wind out of my sails.

I didn’t lose my desire to write; I just lost some of my mojo…and time.

I’m in the last week of my second Proverbs 31 online Bible study, and part of these studies has been to write out responses.

These exercises have helped me get back to self-reflection, which I thrive on.

The house is going to be a lot quieter…boo, hiss…so scenes like the following are sure to play out…over and over and over.

I haven’t run.  At all.  In several weeks.

I have two virtual runs coming up next week…one is an eight miler.  Yeah, that one will be done over the course of two days.

Oh boy, just looking at my pictures on Flickr reminds me of how little I’ve shared over here in Blog Land.  I aim to fix that now that I’m a full-time empty nester.

Stay tuned!

The Art of Letting Go

Last summer, on July 9th, I was awakened by Rooster.  He said, “Mama, I’ve decided to join <insert certain military branch>.  I’m going up to MEPS to take the ASVAB.  See you in two days.”

That was it.

It was quite out of the blue and a bit of a shock.

Then, he left.

I spent the next two days crying, uncertain of what this meant for him…for us…for the future.

Don’t get me wrong.  I was proud.  My boy had always been extremely patriotic; however, nobody in our family had served in the armed forces before, so this was going to be a brand new experience for all of us.

It was at this point that my mama heart broke a little…a lot…as I officially began wrestling with letting go.

Through conversations with my sweet young man…through the dialogue that opened up…we began investigating and exploring his career goals.  In this way, we shared the burden of uncertainty, lightening the load as we began to forage our way toward this new season of our lives.

His dreams became mine as I did what I’d always done and walked beside him, figuratively holding his hand, watching the excitement in his eyes as he envisioned a future filled with service and adventure.

As the months passed, he continued preparing his body for service.  He quit his job, worked out diligently at the gym, and went running several times a week.  He had a few disappointments as he waited for jobs to come open (that’s how this branch of the military works).  We didn’t know exactly when he would be leaving.  All I knew was that every single moment with him was a countdown toward the time I’d have to say goodbye.  I was going to make the most of those moments.

Although I put full effort into my professional life, I began to balance it out with home and family.  My goal was to spend as much quality time with Rooster as possible.  I was also grateful for a laid-back summer of working out with him at the gym and fixing him lunch afterward.  Those conversations at the table were priceless then, for I did see their value, but became even more so when I went back to school and lost that time with him.

We were able to get through a September trip to Universal, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and a January trip back to Universal before he got offered a position he couldn’t refuse.  He received his ship date shortly afterward.

My heart broke a little more when I got the news at work.  I rejoiced with Rooster but began to quietly lament the shortened time with him.

In the midst of all of that, Rooster met the girl of his dreams.  I’ve talked about her before.

Well, the Friday that my Spring Break began, March 18, they got engaged!  It was done in Rooster’s way.  We were fortunate to be there, and I snapped photos.  Despite the rain (it must have rained for a week and a half straight), he got down on one knee, and she accepted from the hood of her green rain jacket.

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The Mr. and I would not have an empty nest just yet when he would leave.

Time flew.  Lord have mercy, but it flew.

This past weekend was hard in many ways.  I knew it would be the last time he would be in my home as my baby.  He and his girl spent Sunday packing up his room.  He had done some cleaning out but not enough, apparently.

We had a lovely dinner Sunday night and sat for two or three hours afterward…TV turned off…enjoying sweet conversations with one another.  This time will replay itself in my mind when I need to feel close to him.

While he was out spending precious time with his girl, I sat down and wrote him a book letter.  Ok.  So it was four pages long.

Ahem.

After reading something about not being mushy on a Facebook support group I joined a couple of weeks ago, I decided to give him the shortened version…along with the longer one.

I smuck the letters into his bag when he wasn’t looking.

And then Monday…yesterday.

Oh heavens.

Rooster was beside himself happy, although he played it cool.  I did everything in my power to hold myself together.  Breaking down in front of him wasn’t in my plans, although we had, throughout the months, talked very openly about how hard his leaving would be for me.

When we got up to leave yesterday, he was kind and allowed me to snap a few last pictures.

They are priceless to me.

I prayed for him before we left, and then we drove him to the recruiter’s office where we sat in the parking lot for an hour watching the time creep up to when we would have to say goodbye.

It was like ripping a band aid off a wound.  Fast.  No warning, really.

And then he was gone.

Just as he’d done when we left him at college, he never looked back as he walked away.

We texted back and forth yesterday and today.  He had to go back to MEPS and go through his swearing-in ceremony and last-minute medical checks, before flying to basic training today.

But yesterday.  Folks, I did the ugly cry a time or two or three during the day.  I had taken the day off from school, thank heavens, and while out shopping had a fit of crying in the Michael’s parking lot.

That’s my “I’m really going to miss my son” face.  😦

I did have some better moments.  The day was too lovely to waste completely on sadness.

Still, the nighttime was hard, and I went to bed exhausted.

I did the cry thing three or four times today…even at school.  My students were very sweet and understanding.  I waited for news of Rooster’s travel itinerary.  He had a few hours of flying ahead of him after a 3:45 wake-up call.

I got a minute-long phone call when he landed, and he sounded happy and strong.  This phone call did my heart so much good.  I’d spent two days crying on and off, and I needed to know he’d be okay.

And now I sit…and wonder…how bad is he getting yelled out by the MTIs?  Is he in bed (hopefully so after the early start to the day)?  How in the world am I going to fill eight weeks with busy-ness so that I won’t feel as though time has stopped?  I’m already looking forward to attending his graduation.

He’s gone off to be rebuilt into the military’s version of a good service member.

I know he’ll do himself and us proud.

I hope I’ve done him proud by how I let him go.  I hope I did it gracefully.  I hope I left no doubt how much I love him and cherish the time I had as a hands-on mama.