Sixty-five Miles of Tears
By Bonnie Schulte
Synopsis: A mother shares a story of surrendered hope for her college age son.
Tears filled my heart as I watched our college freshmen walk down his dorm hallway. Case of Gatorade in hand, R. J. was returning to classes following a weekend visit home. Expanding and contracting, my chest heaved up and down, darkness whizzing past me as I drove alone the 65-mile trip home. Finally, a sob escaped. The dam broke. The floodgates opened. No longer able to contain the volume of emotion, my heart broke and tears flooded down my face.
Mile marker 89. Drenching, salty-tasting tears of sadness plunged down my face. With a finality almost to hard to bear, I realized gone are the days of rocking my sweet, baby boy as he drifted off to sleep. As tears soaked every wrinkle and crease of my face, my heart longed for the time to once again cradle my first born in my arms, soothing his cries with the gentleness of my touch.
Slowly, mile by mile the surge of emotion began to subside. As I neared mile marker 65, torrential tears of sadness began to give way to steady streams of thanksgiving. His first steps, first day of school. His first touchdown, first stitches. First girlfriend. The first time he asked, “Can I have the keys to the car, Mom?” Like a tranquil flowing stream, gentle currents of gratefulness inched down my face. As the tires of my car hummed along the highway pavement, the odometer logging each passing mile, I recalled with joy milestone after milestone of R. J.’s nineteen years.
Thirty miles later I drove up the highway exit that would usher me the final miles home. Streams of tears had now receded, replaced by bead-size teardrops clinging delicately to my waterlogged eyelashes. Dazzling in the glare of approaching headlights were droplets of praise. As moisture glistened in the crevices of my crow’s feet, my heart began to sing with praise as I grasped, “He chose me! He chose me to give birth to and grow and nurture this young man!” Recounting lesson upon lesson learned in humility, perseverance, gratitude and forgiveness, the silent praises in my heart turned to verbal songs of acclamation.
“…A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,” (Ecclesiastes 3:4)
With tear-stained tracks outlining every feature of my red, blotchy face, I drove up the driveway and into the garage of our home. The odometer clocked the 130-mile round trip. A watershed of tears measured nineteen years of existence, each drop helping to cleanse my heart of what I thought I had lost. Tears of sadness were replaced with thankfulness and praise for what I have been given…impact on the life of a young man, my son who is growing in understanding and stature, independent of his mother, prepared to undertake what next lies ahead.
Copyright © October 10, 2004– Bonnie Schulte. All rights reserved.
EDITORS NOTE - May, 2008 - Bonnie's son graduated from his university this month.
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