March 11, 2008 – A Half Hour a Day

He was away, and was supposed to be staying overnight. As I always do when he’s away, I battened down the house….Alarms set? Check. Doors chained? Check. Phone on the bedstand? Check. Knife under my pillow? Check. (Okay, so I don’t sleep with a knife under my pillow, although I’m such a chicken, the thought has crossed my mind.)

So I slept soundly, until suddenly around 4:00 am, I woke up to the shrill screaming of the alarm. It took me to the count of three to register what I was hearing, and of course my irrational mind conjured up the image of a snarling, smelly maniac entering my home to do my family harm. (The rational me may have realized that my darling husband had come home early to surprise me, but rational and half asleep do not go together.) So, yes, I dialed 9-1-1 as I tripped downstairs, armed with nothing but my phone (dangit! I should’ve slept with that knife!) The officer answered before I even hit the bottom of the stairs, and could hear my alarm. He also heard my screech of relief when I saw my husband fumbling with the door chain from the OUTside of the door! After half a dozen questions to assure himself that I was indeed not being held at gunpoint by a snarling maniac, the officer wished me a good evening and assured me that, “That’s what we’re here for, Ma’am.” I was slightly embarrassed, but relief was my top priority.

My husband just shook his head. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming home?!!!” I asked. His response, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Many years ago, my husband and I were having a discussion and I remember stating quite boldly that if I ever had a son and he became President, I would be ashamed because I would know the types of things he would have had to do to get there.

This morning, while listening to the Today Show as it reveled in the news of the latest political scandal, I recalled my comment while looking at my innocent one-year-old son over his Cheerios. I looked into those sweet, fresh-from-God eyes, and wondered, “How do I raise this child to be a Man, worthy of being President…honest, intelligent, caring, honorable, strong, loyal—faithful to God, Country, and Family?” I cannot imagine that this little human, with a soul full of love, laughter, and beauty could ever become anything but…….but. So many forces…the task of raising this child, this someday man, to see his full potential seems daunting, and I’ve been at this parenting job for over a decade.

I no longer believe that I would be ashamed if my son became President. However, I pray that God gives me the skills to parent this child, along with his sisters, in such a way that they will be worthy in His eyes. Whatever they choose to do, whether it be President, or not, I hope they do it well.