A couple of weeks ago, we took YaYa to a music event at the yoga studio. I’m not sure if he joined in on the singing of the chants but he did keep an open mind, snapped his fingers, and clapped his hands.
wait, pray, hope
Tears of hope rolled down my face this morning when I received a text message from BoBo saying we need to make plans for Christmas. I sent a reply asking if this meant he was able to take leave to come home for the holidays. Then I held my breath and waited.
The back and forth that followed launched right into the cost of airfare, how expensive it is, and how he wasn’t sure how he could afford it. “I’ve got you covered.” I said, “just send dates.” He sent dates but with it was a note that he didn’t officially have the leave approved.
“Um… Okay. Let me know when you do.”
And the wait continues….
a nice welcome home
When BoBo was young, he attended a public elementary school not far from our house. On rainy days, while I was still home on extended maternity leave, I picked him up by car. In doing so, the routine was for the cars to line up ahead of time and move up as to fill the gaps when a car moved left and onward with their precious cargo inside.
If you were unlucky enough to have a child who drug their feet so-to-speak, you were not allowed to leave your car (even to stand curbside and YELL for the boy) or the “parking nazi” would come YELL AT YOU! She did not care if your newborn baby was screaming bloody murder inside the car.
Now-a-days, I am one of the last to roll into the parking lot at the end of the day to retrieve that same baby that was screaming for his BoBo to hurry up. He’s not-so-young anymore and, fortunately for me, he’s also not so slow. In fact, I can generally see him playing in the courtyard while I make my way from one end of the lot to the other. I see him. He sees me. And he runs inside, retrieves his backpack, and hurries to the car with a big smile on his face and a genuine “How was your day?”
It’s pretty sweet. I sure do love that boy!
How you play the game
It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. — Unknown
YaYa’s football league stepped it up this year. Moving up to Division 1, has meant our boys have had to work harder than ever to take the wins. With fiercer teams as opponents, the boys have put in their share of blood, sweat, and (when no one is looking) possibly a few tears in practice and on the playing fields.
After today’s game, many of the boys walked off the field with defeat written all over their faces. A few of the parents had the same look. I wished I could change it for them. Not so much the outcome. It was what it was and they gave it a good hard fight right to the bitter end. They even scored in the final 5 seconds.
They all winners in my book, for they played well…in spite of a few questionable off-sides oversights. Okay, maybe more than a few. Honestly, even though I’m staring at the game, I don’t catch on to such things as off-sides and such. Every tackle looks like a personal foul to me — because, in life, people just shouldn’t be hitting each other. But that’s just football…and me.
There is one thing I do know. Those boys should hold their heads high and walk proudly, for they played well against another tough opponent. They may not have won the game, but they are still winners to me.
fears, tears, and prayers
After scanning the long list of articles, I picked one article from the NY Times’ paper to read this morning. Describing the challenges of soldiers returning home from deployment, I could not help but worry about my BoBo. Today he remains on U.S. land, but I know that as long as the war continues there is no guarantee that he won’t be deployed. The thought of adding more emotional baggage, such as post traumatic stress disorder, to his demons of losing his dad sends tears to my eyes.
I begin to pray that what ever the next 3 1/2 years brings for him, that he will somehow return home safe and stronger emotionally and physically from his experience. I pray that, no matter what his future exposes him to, that he will come to better appreciate his freedom, those who love him, and this beautiful place we call home. Also, I pray for the soldiers who are now returning, for those who are being deployed and those who remain in the battle zone. Most of all, I pray that this war will end.