Way back in the day…when I was a young, proud, LEOW, I would attempt to iron my husband’s uniforms. I was a stay-at-home mom, pinching pennies, and going to the dry cleaners was certainly not in the budget. Of all household chores, I don’t know why, but I hate ironing the most. Give me a vacuum or even a toilet to scrub…but ironing? I had better things to do with my time, like making sure my boys weren’t eating bugs or feeding dirt clods to the dog. And can we talk about those dreaded double creases? I just never seemed to get them right.
Fast forward to today where my youngest son will soon be graduating from the Police Academy. He has chosen to follow in his father’s footsteps and is employed by the very same Police Department. After almost 6 grueling months, and a most recent difficult week of training, he and the rest of the Academy Cadets have been promoted to Police Officer Recruits. He is three weeks away from a badge. Three weeks away from field training. Three weeks away from patrolling the streets.
The newly promoted recruits received their official patrol uniforms; crisp and a gorgeous dark blue, patches and all. I was asked if I could help get them ready. I really didn’t think much of it at all, just that I hate ironing, but whatever. No biggie….or so I thought.
I pressed the pants first and it wasn’t too bad! They were already creased, thank goodness, so even I didn’t mess them up. Relieved, I grabbed a hanger, admired my work, and turned to the shirts. I can’t express in words the surreal feeling that suddenly overwhelmed me...the patches…the same dark blue uniform shirts I’ve seen in this house for 20 years…it completely caught me off guard.
What made this kid want to be a cop? In this day and age? With all that 2020 was? The riots? The protests? The threats of defunding and flat-out hatred? All of it. Why?
I felt myself tearing up. Ok…let's be honest...I completely broke down and bawled my eyes out. All of the anxiety that I’ve been doing my best to ignore and have been pushing aside for months over my son choosing this path bubbled up and exploded. I’m sure I looked like a crazy person trying to manage a simple household task.
Instead of hating this dreaded chore, I suddenly felt extremely privileged and grateful to be able to help prepare my son for another day of training. I began praying. I wondered if it was weird to pray over clothing, but I prayed over every inch of those uniforms. I thanked God for my son and begged for His protection to be over him always. I was gently reminded that this is who Colton is supposed to be. The desire to pursue this career has always been a part of him, just as it is in his dad, and it is quite simply completely out of my control.
This is new territory for me. As much LEO life experience as I think I have being married to a police officer for almost 30 years now…it is a completely different experience having your child do it. And I know…he’s not a child…he’s a grown man…but at times I can’t help but see this little blond-headed, blue-eyed boy, in the living room pretending to be a “SWAT Guy” like Daddy.
Philippians 4:6 is definitely a scripture that I am taking to heart these days. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” I often let my anxiety get the best of me. It’s easy to do these days. One glance at the morning news and I’m done for.
I may have to scribble this verse on every wall in my house, but I am going to try my best to not just keep my anxiety in check…or put on a happy face and smush it deep down in my soul…I’m going to run to my God and pray…whether I happen to be ironing a uniform...or scrubbing a toilet.
l Sandee l