I Am the Mom of a Teenager: My First Born

My first born. I remember looking down at him when he was just days old and wondering... what is his personality going to be like? Who is he going to be when he grows up? What's he going to look like when he's a teenager? Well, you know what he looks like? The kindest, most conscientious human being I know. His sense of humor has always transcended his years. He started teasing his momma in the grocery line before he could even talk. And he's endearingly shy. And patient. And kind. I know you all told me he was going to turn into a devil child when he turns 15, and he may very well do just that. But for now, he is my teenager that prays to God with a thankful heart every night (he puts his momma to shame!), who chatters to me all the way to the bus stop about how he loves football and school, who tells me how much he loves history and wants to be a history teacher when he grows up because that's his area of interest, who looks me straight in the eyes and tells me he won't turn into a devil child at 15 when I ask him if he's going to, who still periodically reaches out to hold my hand, who gives his mom hugs in public even though he frantically asks her to turn the music down because it's too loud and it's embarrassing him. Don't get me wrong. He still has his teenager moments. I suppose just like I have my mid-40s moments. But after waiting eight long years and thinking I wouldn't be blessed to be a mother, even those are moments I'm thankful for. Thanks for begrudgingly agreeing to stop on the way home last night to watch the sunset with me, young man. Your momma's heart could almost burst with love and pride at times like this. You are one of my greatest life blessings.

I Am Running for Your Son

It's a strange tale, the tale that connected me to Yarmouth's Deputy Chief of Police Steven Xiarhos on Sunday morning at approximately 10 a.m. Eastern time. It started on a full moon night in January 2017 at the Siesta Key Oyster Bar in Siesta Key, Florida where I happened to meet some women from Boston. Upon hearing my plans of traveling to Key West to run the Key West Half Marathon that weekend, they told me I must, absolutely must, come visit them in Cape Cod and run the infamous Falmouth Road Race.

To make a long story short, I made plans to travel to Cape Cod in August to stay with Annemarie pending being able to get into the road race. It is quite popular and hard to get into. Much to my dismay, I received the e-mail on May 22nd confirming that, indeed, I had not been selected. I then had to make the decision about whether to go anyway. After some thought and conversations back and forth with Annemarie, I booked my plane ticket to Boston, my bus ticket to East Falmouth and contacted the race to see if I could possibly volunteer.

As luck would have it, upon arrival on the very first night Annemarie knew someone who knew someone (how about that?) who had a race bib that wasn't being used. I would later find out that this is actually frowned upon, and so to the Falmouth Race Director, I do profoundly apologize for not following the rules. Please don't take it out on the young man I represented. He was in Germany playing basketball at the time and could not defend himself. I actually didn't know I was doing something I wasn't supposed to. If you knew much about my squirrel brain, you would have no trouble believing that, of this, I am speaking the truth. The bib happened to be for the son of a police officer who was volunteering and so I thought it might be fun to try to find him along the route and take my picture with him. The only descriptor I had was that he was bald. So thus began my mission to find said officer.

Deputy Chief of Police Steven Xiarhos

It was a beautiful race day, albeit a little warm and humid, and I was having the time of my life running alongside 15,000 of my closest friends. As I came off of mile six and approached the bend in the road that turned up the final hill into the finish line, I spotted the officer I thought could possibly be the person I was searching for. Upon inquiring he misheard the name of the officer I was referencing and said, "Yes." I said, "I am running for your son," as I pointed at the name Eli on my bib. You can imagine his confusion and complete shock as he looked at the name and then replied, "My son died in Afghanistan." Upon realizing my mistake, I replied, "I am so sorry. Please let me give you a hug," and then ran up the final hill that led to the finish line.

With some young race supporters.

It turns out that this officer, who I would later find out is Yarmouth's Deputy Chief of Police Steven Xiarhos, has run this race eight times carrying his son Nicholas's flag. He didn't run this year and so they asked him to help, so he did. He was standing on that side of the road where I spoke with him because just before I encountered him, he had been helping a runner who was overheated and had to be taken to the hospital.

"Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping" - Mr. Rogers

At the finish line.

The encounter stayed with me. I couldn't shake it. "I am running for your son," echoing in my brain. I truly believe I was. I kicked myself for not going back and taking a picture with him. This week, upon arriving back to Iowa, I Google searched and found his story. His son Nicholas's story. Nicholas, at age 12, experienced September 11th. At age 12, he decided he would join the military to defend his country's freedom. In his senior year, he was voted by his class for "Does Most for Others". Upon graduating, he became a marine. On his final tour, he was killed in Afghanistan. He paid the ultimate sacrifice so we could enjoy our lives and our freedoms. I can not comprehend the magnitude of this sacrifice. I can not comprehend the loss his family suffers. When I expressed this to his father, he told me, "We don't want you to. It's my cross to bear. You must live your life to the fullest. And take care of your family. And help others in need. That's what Nick would want. He was only 21 when he passed. His last words to us were, 'Don't worry about me, Mom. I'm living the dream.' Hug your kids extra tight tonight."

I will, Steven G. Xiarhos, I will! My boys will get extra tight hugs tonight. I am so thankful God connected us. I will pray for strength and comfort for you and your family and I thank you and your son for your service. You gave me pause when I needed it the most.

Semper fi!

If you would like to know more about Nicholas's story, please visit these Facebook pages Nicholas G. Xiarhos Memorial Foundation Fund and Big Nick's Ride for the Fallen. 👮‍❤️🇺🇸️