the holy thing that got me to this moment
by bam
prayers have been answered. and answered and answered. and, then, answered some more.
which pretty much defines the beginning, middle and end of this exercise in human devotion — in birthing and bonding and inevitably separating, though never completely, never every last cord to the heart — on this joyride called parenting. it surely explains what got us here to this holy moment: about to shuffle down a jetway to board a plane to fly through the heavens to land at the doorstep of one college graduation.
the latest prayer answered, the one i whispered as i rustled beneath my sheets yesterday morning, was this: “dear God, thank you for bringing them home safe and sound from their long and certainly liquid weekend at myrtle beach,” that romping ground of late for seniors in college who’ve finished their finals but not yet donned caps and gowns. thank you for keeping their tin can of a car safe on the highway for 14 some hours (each way), for keeping big rigs and 18-wheelers from slamming into their passenger doors or their windshields, or any one of those gory scenes that mothers of children on highways can picture so clearly, so vividly, so goosebumpingly.
the truest truth of parenthood, or at least the truest one for me, is that every stitch along this broadcloth of hope and faith and unwavering trust is one knotted with prayer.
from the instant someone back in that long-ago delivery room handed me that slippery, squirmy, wide-eyed babe, and then, not long after, pointed us toward the door to the big wide scary world beyond the hospital, i gulped and did the surest thing i could think of: i called on superpowers. of the highest elevations. i let rip a mighty prayer. insisted angels and saints, almighty God and Holy Mother Mary in all her maternal glories, swoop down and blanket us, point the everlasting way, whisper answers to my 9 gamillion questions — straight into my heart, the preferred route. and dare not take a coffee break.
because i knew there was no way i could make it all on my own.
if left to my own devices long, long ago — if i’d not had that lifeline of prayer, and the knowledge that in my darkest hours, in the hours when i had no answers, and barely a trace of faith in anything worldly, there was a great and tender palm of a hand (honestly, i’d put in for a whole flock of palms of hands) cradling me and my growing-up child — i’d still be cowering behind that hospital door. i might still be crumpled at the knees wondering how we’d make it out alive.
to parent — to take a fresh-from-the-womb floppy creation and teach him or her the few things you know, and the volumes you cram in along the way — is to stare down every imaginable detour and distraction, to slay the thousand dragons that taunt you in innumerable forms — the playground bully, the out-of-control coach, and the rule that will not bend, to name but three. (i suppose i shouldn’t forget my host of self-doubts and insecurities as perhaps the biggest dragons in the bunch.)
you see, i wouldn’t know how to do that — how to let the air out of ugliness, how to crack at the knees those monsters who romp in the night — without my blessed back-up squad: the angels and saints, the umpteen vigil lights and infinite vespers that are my hotline, my speed-dial, to God and assembled heavenly hosts.
one of the first things i learned when my kid went off to college — a steep climb of a first semester for me, not so for him — was that more than anything we’d stepped into the landscape of prayer. especially when your kid is 1,000 miles from home, and even you — hold-on-tight you — wouldn’t dream of calling him, oh, every hour on the quarter-hour.
i turned quickly to prayer. prayer was my safety net. the tight-woven web that kept me from tumbling into the dark. i remember how, shortly after dropping him off and flying soggily back to chicago, i found myself pulled from the great gothic tower where i typed every day, propelled down the sidewalk of north michigan avenue and into the catacombs of holy name cathedral. there, with the help of a not-so-helpful security guard, i knelt before the flickering expanse of battery-operated (egad!) prayer candles. i lit one right up, and then, in a flash of iPhone wizardry that soon became a habit, i texted a snapshot of the holy flame i’d kindled for my boy. vigil light, by virtue of wi-fi.
i can’t count the number of mornings i launched into daylight with prayers murmured before i flung back the sheets. i can’t tally the times i turned toward the east-northeast to pinpoint my prayers somewhere in the vicinity of the appropriate dot on the compass, and then let fly some litany of invocations, begging the heavens to be kind, to be gentle, to my faraway child.
as much as i prayed through the close-to-home years, i’d say i doubled the volume and depth in the long-distance years, the ones that in these modern-day times are more than likely to be our geographic realities.
the farther you get into motherhood, the less likely your kid will put up with what might be your preferred proximity — tagging along right close to his side. so, once the squirt up and grows, you’re left with a mama’s no. 1 stand-in: the invisible prayers unfurled from your heart and your tongue to the heavens above and beyond.
in the last four years, since that tear-sodden day when we dropped him alone on a green in the land of emily dickinson, it’s what’s gotten the boy i love — or, certainly, his mama — through eight rounds of final exams, umpteen close calls, countless hours rowing the icy connecticut river, one short tip across the atlantic pond, in and out of a few emergency rooms, and through a few late-night phone calls that stretched thinly — desperately — into the dawn.
as we step into the magical whirl of this weekend, when honors will be awarded and diplomas tucked in his once-little hand, as i stand back and marvel at this child who’s now a deeply fine man, as i dab away rivers of tears and a heart that’s frankly astounded, my every breath will be drawn in with a prayer, and let out with another.
i wouldn’t be here, and neither would he, i am certain, if not for the great hand of the glorious and good God who reached down and guides us each and every step of the way.
for this, i drop to my knees, in undying devotion for the one thing that got me to here: my deepest prayers answered.
and here we are, minutes from grabbing bags and dashing out the door. i’ve now put words to screen through every round of this kid’s graduations: eighth grade, high school, and, now, college. there will, god willing, be a law school graduation for my scholar child, the one who dreams of some day being a professor, or a federal judge. (he worked for a glorious such soul in the DC circuit appellate court last summer, and now has modeled his dreams on the eminently wise and humble and good-hearted justice.) i am burstingly filled with joy, with the deep knowledge that we’ve been so graced to arrive at this moment. for all of you who’ve loved us through the tight and narrow passageways, and who’ve whirled with us in the dances of hallelujah, thank you. you are as much a part of this equation as those angels and saints. in fact, you give form to angels here on earth. most especially, his two unwavering grandmas who are among the most devoted…
Congratulations on this wonderful milestone. You’ve echoed so many of my own feelings about being a Mom. Best wishes for all the lovely days ahead!
thank you, thank you! clearly i was on “internet sabbath” (a concept i am truly loving….) and half of us just got home from that glorious weekend, and i am just now pulling up a chair for the first time since i clicked the “send off to the world” button.
Oh, my goodness … the photos … the words … all the emotion. Warmest congratulations, prayers for traveling mercies, blessing prayers across the miles for all of you … loads of love. xoxoxo
thank you, beautiful friend, thank you…..love those traveling mercies. and all was well, thank God (our slow low descent over the lake today was giving me goosebumps of the not-so-fun kind…..)
a weekend whose glories are currently making me glow……xoxox
Ohhhh Barbie !! Congratulations to your beautiful family on Willie”s milestone!! Sooo wonderful and exciting!! So loved this story this morning, the journey !!! Just beautiful !! Enjoy the weekend!!! Your posts always calms my heart and fills it with pure goodness !!! Soooo lovely!! So lovely just like you!! Much love, mary xo
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bless your heart, sweet mary. it was so so heavenly. my papa would have been BUSTIN’ his buttons, and OH i hope he was! i felt him right on my shoulder. at my college graduation, he told me he felt his mama on his. and it was one of the tenderest things he ever told me. then he died not too long after that. so all of that swirling amid the mix made it all even tenderer to me…..love you, mar. thank you for always pulling up a chair. xox
What a glorious day today will be, a day where past, present, and future collide, a day of collective joy – speeches, words of wisdom offered, intake of breath as the Graduation March begins, the efforts and hopes and dreams of a thousand hearts filling the air…. For you and your family, a shimmering threshold, an indelible moment as you watch your fine young man stride across the stage and on towards his fast-unfurling future! All good things lean his way, I just know it.
Your essay has reminded of a quote I love:
“If you have a mom, there is nowhere you are likely to go where a prayer has not already been.” ~Robert Brault
What a lucky young man Will is, to be enfolded in this legacy of love and prayers. Hearty congratulations to him today, and to each one of you, his proud, supportive, lovely family. xoxo
ohhhhhhh, i love love love that quote. that commonplace book of yours is an infinite font of all good things. i am pressing that to my heart. twas glorious, glorious….xox
and now, i am scurrying about the house like a fairy, tucking lily of the valley here, a BIG FAT peony there, filling the fridge and the plate under the cookie dome. i don’t think there is a purringer mode to my heart than the one when i am puttering about making my nest into welcome……
an art i know you know well….
May the good grace and blessings continue to flow for you and your boys! I always have relied on praying for one of two things: courage and wisdom. Sometimes I prayed for one, sometimes the other, and in dire situations I dared pray for both. Lately, though, I’ve gotten more assertive and specific! And expect to get even more so once G. is physically out of reach. Thanks for, as always, finding the words for these feelings we moms have shared since who knows when. And enjoy every minute this weekend! You have earned it many times over.
i’ll be right here as you grope through the new landscape come fall.
all i know is i sure loved the feeling of today, coming home knowing he’s headed this way, a bazillion times more than that plane ride four years ago, the same hartford to chicago, feeling hollower than hollow, having just left him behind……
so the good news for you might be the thing that’s amazing me today: it was only a blink ago that i left him off, and here he is on his way home. thank God. and oh, the adventures your sweet boy will have. standing by for whatever you need.xox
congratulations and joy to you and yours…your heart overflows,and it is all so well and well taken.. yay and yes- holy, as they grow, as they triumph- as our children become.
ps-did not get in on writing gig, next year…a child has beckoned my time with wedding dresses, cannot miss that, even for a dream.
dear darling!!!! a WEDDING DRESS! that is glorious scrumptious news! i love that. and i will write recc after recc to bang down the doors and get you into that writing gig whenever the time is right.
love knowing you’re mama of the bride. xoxox
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