Escort service....

Ever thought about being an escort? No? I was an escort recently. Well I was a part of an escort ride, something that some of the Harley Davidson riders in town do on Sunday afternoons.

 I had learned through a friend that the mothers of some young men, departing the central valley of California for the United States Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego, were in need of needed some moms to support them as they bid their children farewell. I understand that, having been through the process of letting go of a child choosing military service,  I understand too well the fear of the unknown, the sense of loss, the finality of that last "Goodbye,Mom".  I also understand the pride, that sense of my boy becoming part of something much bigger than the little family which stood around with tears in their eyes trying to say good bye.

So I got on the bike with my husband, adjusted my helmet and rode to the Marine recruiting office. There were dozens of bikes assembled there when we arrived. Some had little American flags attached, some were dressed with stickers and other patriotic decor.  Our bike is not decorated, but we wear a love for America deep in our hearts. We hold a deep appreciation, too for those who serve in the various military branches.

As the time to depart drew near, we riders gathered to share a few encouraging words with the recruits and their families. The moms, wives and sisters were teary eyed, and the dads and brothers stood a bit taller, working to control their emotions as we reminded the young men and women that we were grateful indeed for their service to our nation. We offered them a prayer of blessing, asking God to protect them.

Then it was time for individual words with each of the young recruits. I stood in a long line, waiting my turn.  A guy in front of me was behaving in a manner that disturbed me as he clearly had only his own interest and folly in mind when he told a recruit, "Don't give 'em anything you don't have to!" and walked away with a sneer on his face, apparently satisifed to get in a dig at the Marines for whatever he had endured in his own time in the service.

Then it was my turn. I have no military experience except the vicarous one through my son's eyes, and memories of the Vietnamese war years when I sold POW/MIA bracelets as an act of support for my country.  Taking  the hand of a tall, slender young man with coffee colored skin, I gazed solomnly into the deep brown eyes of the first recruit and said, "Call your mother. She will be counting the minutes until you do. Step up and serve wherever you find opportunity. The world needs more people like you who want to give to this great nation. Serve well, and finish well whatever you start."  My throat was tight as I pulled him close and gave him a long tight hug. "Go with God, my friend."  Releasing him from my arms, I turned to his mom, who was struggling to maintain composure, "He will come home to you. He will!  I know this is frightening, because I said good bye to my own son just like you are doing now. Do not fear. Your boy will be home again, and the difference will be that he will return a man. Be proud of him. I will pray for you."  With this I hugged her long and gently, and she held on tight and sobbed quietly.

Letting go of our children is not easy, weather sending them off to college, or whatever brings about their first departure from home.  Those who say farewell to children who opt to spend time in military service should recognize that their child is displaying a great deal of bravery and maturity.

When we had finished blessing and encouraging, bikes were started, riders fell in line behind the military vehicle which we followed, two bikes at a time, out of town and south on interstate 5.  At the base of the Grapevine, near the county line, the military vehicle slowed to allow all bike riders to slip past. As my husband and I pulled past the recruit's car, I turned, waved solomny and offered a "thank you" sign, touching one palm to my chin and downward toward my chest.  The recruit I had spoken to smiled softly through the car window, returning a small wave.

It will aways be my great honor to be this kind of escort.