My Son Joined the Marines and All I Got Was a Bumper Sticker

(And a Lesson in Trusting God With Your Child When You Have Zero Control)

Three weeks ago, we said goodbye to my 17-year-old son and he boarded a plane headed to Marine Corps boot camp.  We got this “Proud Parent of a U.S. Marine” sticker for my car in the recruit packet.  Don’t get me wrong, I am very proud of my son for his choice to serve.  But getting the sticker was a bit underwhelming in the moment.

Honestly, I’ve been wrestling with even writing this post.

He’s the sixth of our eight kids, so I’ve been pretty confident over the years about my ability to handle the emotional milestones that come with raising children.

Then it happened.

We were standing in the airport at the entrance to security. His strong 6’3″, 220-pound frame standing in front of me did not compute with the image in my mind of him at five years old, holding onto his favorite stuffed toy — the head of a teddy bear connected to a tiny blanket. (I know it was weird, but he loved it.)

And I remember thinking, How can this possibly be happening? How is it that I am sending this child away to learn how to be a soldier?

His mother couldn’t seem to let him go, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

As he wove through security, bag over his massive shoulder, I kept thinking that if I could just see him, he’d be okay. As the tears welled up in my eyes, my mind raced through all the things I hadn’t taught him yet.

I had spent years preparing him to go away to college or get a regular job.

But this?

This wasn’t the plan I had pictured.

I’ve prayed to God so many times over the years that I don’t really care what my kids decide to do with their lives — as long as they love God and follow Jesus.

Well, God loves it when we drop ultimatums on Him.

So apparently He has decided to let me learn something from this one.

My son headed off around the corner toward his gate. (He had never flown before, and I hadn’t even shown him how to navigate an airport.)

My wife and I just stood there.
We had no words.
Just tears.

I have never felt so sad and so full of joy at the same time in my life.

The Part No One Tells You

That was three weeks ago.

One thing they don’t tell you until later is that when your son enters Marine Corps boot camp, you basically don’t see or speak to them for about thirteen weeks.

We’re just starting week three.

Needless to say, it’s going very slowly.

We’re constantly in prayer for him — for his safety, his spirit, and for his steadfast, unwavering love and devotion to God. These are the things we all pray for our children.

But lately I’ve found myself wondering something else.

What exactly am I supposed to pray for myself?

What Do You Pray For When You Have No Control

Do I pray for patience?

I’ve learned that when you pray for patience, you often get situations that require patience.

Do I pray for the sadness to go away?

Over time I’ve learned to let emotions run their course — even the uncomfortable ones like anger, sadness, and loneliness.

Do I pray for peace?

Maybe. But if I’m not careful, those moments of peace can get stolen away pretty quickly by the news cycle… especially these days.

Do I pray for strength?

Sometimes I struggle with that one too. Because what exactly does that mean for me right now?

Strength for what?

Learning to Listen

What I have come to realize during this season is that when I am praying about something this heavy, I probably need to do less talking and more listening.

I need to sit quietly and actually listen.

When I empty my mind and let God fill the silence, something surprising happens. He doesn’t necessarily give me answers.

He gives me stillness.

And in that stillness I find something I didn’t even realize I was searching for.

Space to breathe.

My emotions about seeing my son head off to boot camp carry a weight to them that I can physically feel. But when I fall silent in my spirit during prayer, something shifts.

The patience, peace, strength, and even joy that I thought I needed to ask for begin to show up when I simply allow God to fill the void.

Scripture That Keeps Coming Back to Me

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
— Psalm 46:10

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6

Those verses have taken on a very different meaning for me these past few weeks.

Because trusting God with your children might be one of the hardest acts of faith a parent ever faces.

The Lesson I’m Learning

If you’re a parent, you probably understand this tension.

We spend years protecting our kids, teaching them, guiding them, and trying to prepare them for life. And then one day we discover something that’s both beautiful and terrifying at the same time:

Eventually we have to let them walk out of our sight.

For me, that moment just happened to be at an airport security line.

For someone else it might be a college dorm, a wedding aisle, or the first big life decision your child makes without you.

But the lesson is the same.

Letting God Hold What I Cannot

I still miss him. I still worry. I still pray for him every day. But in the quiet moments of prayer, God keeps reminding me that my son was never truly in my hands to begin with. He has always been in His. My job was never to control his path—it was to raise him, love him, point him to Jesus, and trust God with the rest. That trust still feels heavy, but in the silence I’m learning something I probably should have known all along: God loves my son even more than I do—and He is more than capable of leading him where I cannot.

I started this story talking about what it feels like to trust God when you have zero control. The funny thing is, when you really think about it, we probably always have zero control. We just don’t realize it until the moment something we love walks through an airport security line and out of sight.

And beyond that security checkpoint, God’s there to help him get to where he’s going.