Letting Go...

This past Thursday, I took my son, Whit, to the airport to see him off for his three-year duty assignment overseas. It was the second-hardest thing I've ever done. The first was watching my sister die from breast cancer. So, that should put my pain into perspective for you. The one thing I had to do for my peace of mind was pray with him before he left me.

And it almost didn't happen. But God...

We checked his baggage and then got in line for the TSA security check. At the scanner, the gentleman asked me for my gate pass. I didn't know I needed one. He informed me that without a gate pass, I couldn't go and sit with my son. I started crying. My son was a little panicked and embarrassed. "It's Okay, Mom. You don't have to go. I love you. I love you." He hugged me goodbye. "It'll be okay. I love you."

Crying, I zig-zagged back out of line. I had to pass a lot of people and so many of them gave me compassionate, understanding smiles. A few even assured me, "It'll be alright." They understood a mother's breaking heart.

This was not how I had expected to leave Whit. I was standing there crying, watching him get ready to walk through the scanner, when a TSA officer approached me. "Who you seeing off?"

"My son. Right there." I started crying harder. "They wouldn't let me go back with him because I don't have a gate pass."

The man's shoulders went back, and his chin came up. "You go back to the American desk and see if they'll give you a gate pass. Then you come right back to this spot."

I rushed off the American desk and through tears explained to two older customer service guys what was happening. Bless their hearts, they couldn't issue me a gate pass fast enough. No soldier was getting shipped off with his mother still in tears. So, pass in hand, I hurried back to TSA.

The TSA officer spotted me, escorted me straight through the zig-zag lines, snatching and re-hooking lane guides as we went. Then he put me in front of the TSA operator who wouldn't let me enter the first time and said firmly, "She's next."

The people he let me cut in front of didn't seem to mind. One young lady actually gave me a little package of tissues.

Because of all this kindness (and clearly, the favor of God), I got to spend the final hour with Whit. We had a nice lunch and still had a few minutes before his flight was called. This time, I did not wait until the last second to pray over him. I told him I wasn't going to be rushed. We bowed our heads and I spoke peace, blessings, and safety over him, in Jesus' name.

And then his flight was called...the last apron string was cut as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

One last selfie at the airport...

Whit about the scan his boarding pass.