Tentpegs

Yesterday was a hard day. We knew it would be. The worship services went well. We had 10 more people identify as members of Rochester Church. It was Family Sunday (we do that every 5th Sunday and are considering moving it to once a month) so the children were involved in our worship. They did a great job; ably led by Eric Ebeling, one of our very talented young men. 

I didn’t mention Duncan during the sermons. I knew that even talking about him leaving for Parris Island would bring me to tears so I shoved it in the back of my mind and pressed on with the lesson: "Bread, Wine, and Water." I hope I got my points out well enough. Lord knows I was internally distracted. Duncan and Megan — his sweet, Christian girlfriend — attended 3rd service and sat in the back, hoping to avoid being mobbed by well wishers. After the last service, we went to Gus O’Connor’s and ate lunch. He said goodbye to his sister and brother in law in the parking lot. That was very hard. They have always been close and are now good friends, too. He came back to the house to change into the clothes he will have to wear for almost two and half days. The plan was to drive to the recruiter’s office and leave his personal effects in the car.

I was so proud of the way he said goodbye to his mother. He encouraged her, spoke softly to her, assured her that she was the best mother in the world. He held her close. I couldn’t speak; the emotions were too strong. As he left, he said confidently, "See you in the stands," lifted his first, said "Oo-rah" and was gone.

About now his plane is touching down. Like I said in the last blog, his ordeal begins in the wee hours. His phone call home will be read from a script. He will not be allowed to add anything to it. It cannot last more than 20 seconds. For the next three days, as they give him his shots and final checks before training, he will be forced to drop the words "I", "me" or any other first person pronouns from his vocabulary.  He will have to say, for example, "This recruit requests permission to…" It will not be until after the crucible — 54 hours of sleep and food deprivation while on forced marches and while solving complex problems — that he will regain his name and gain another one: Marine. You can follow the day by day training at http://www.mcrdpi.usmc.mil

Kami and I are never more than a few moments away from tears, but it is not for Duncan. He is a good man doing a good thing; the thing he always wanted to do . What saddens us is that he is not now — and will no longer be — our little boy. He is a man and he will be a Marine. Pray for him with us. Here are some photos to help you remember him.