Although this is our first deployment, Braden had already spent 7 months away from us, completing various trainings since joining the Air Force. The previous pattern was that the first 3 or 4 weeks were great, and then things slowly start to fall apart. The girls always behave really well in the beginning and I am always highly motivated to accomplish some big task (like moving on 2 different occasions). At this point it would be safe to say we have broken our record. Let's hope we are going in reverse order. It's now okay to write this since I do feel that perhaps we are turning a corner.
Yesterday Braden and I were marveling that we had hit the 3 week mark. I shudder to think that this is all we have accomplished. Perhaps some of the longest weeks of my life, and I get the feeling Braden would agree. And it's not that we're all miserable or laying around crying and complaining. It's just the realization of the disconnect that has occurred in such a short period of time, coupled with the sobering knowledge that we still have 22 weeks left.
To be clear, I don't claim to have the corner market on hardship. There is no part of me that believes for a second that we have been dealt with unfairly, nor do I resent the Air Force or Braden's military service in any way. We volunteered to do this, and with that, expected this day would come. And come it has. These facts, do not however, make the experience any easier. I am coming to despise a phrase I am getting from friends and family frequently, one might I add, that I myself have said to others, even recently. It is, "At least you get to Skype". It seems a little bit like being eight and a half months pregnant and you make a pre-determined decision not to drop kick the next person that asks you if you swallowed a watermelon. It's no big deal. It's a well meaning person taking interest in your life. But when I haven't slept in weeks and my hips have fallen out of place again, making every step more painful than the last, I have a hard time in that very moment, being able to feel what I know I
should feel. I should feel nothing but grateful, because I have been blessed with the ability to have children. And although it's wreaks havoc on my body, it is something I am able to do. And the fact is, there is nothing I love more than being a Mother. It is what I am at the very core of my being and what I pour my heart out in prayer about every morning and every night. But my love for it and my belief in it doesn't make it easy, it just makes the struggle worthwhile.
And so it is with "being military". I should feel grateful that we can Skype. Because the fact of the matter is, I get to hear my husbands voice most days, even if it is briefly, and even if I can barely hear him or the delay is so bad that I can't understand him, or that I have re-arranged my schedule so I can sit by the computer, only to not have him not call. Or that our conversations are heard by his room mate who sits 2 feet away while we talk. I go to bed later and I wake up earlier in hopes of getting a good conversation with him. But, I get to see him and know that he is okay. I don't wait for weeks on end wondering all day long if my best friend and the father to my children is dead, like military wives of not so long ago.
My family is not in danger because we support the cause of freedom. Instead, we are given free Sea World tickets and enjoy Marie Callendar pies for 15% cheaper. Over the last four months I have taken Lila to a Neurologist, a Urologist, an Audiologist, a speech pathologist, a radiologist, an optometrist, a dentist, and an occupational therapist and I haven't paid a dime for it. Not only are we not giving away our money to the cause of freedom, but it actually pays us, every 2 weeks.
I feel nothing but humbled to read the letters of our founding fathers and hear them describe their love of God and country. A love so deep and a belief so profound that they pledged at the bottom of the Declaration, "...our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor." That wasn't just poetic writing by Thomas Jefferson. Signing that Declaration was considered an act of treason that some of those men paid for with their lives, their homes, their fortunes, and the lives of their wives and children.
From that point until now, the cost of freedom is incalculable as far as loss of life is concerned. But do any of us argue that it was not worth it? And who are we to inherit this great wealth of personal liberties, yet give nothing back. So very many of our generation think they are entitled to the blessings and freedoms afforded us as Americans. Unique privileges bought at a great price by an overwhelming number of families over the span of a few hundred years. And yet, because we have had the fortune of coming to earth at a time of relative peace and prosperity, there are those of us who think little on these precious and sacred liberties. It seems incumbent on those of us who have seemingly walked into this favorable position to do what we can to make these same liberties available for future generations.
I frequently hear from friends, "I could never do that" or "I don't know how you do that". And in the moment I always feel a loss for words because it IS hard, and I don't LIKE it. I did not want to do this, but it became evident that this is our path. It's not every body's path, but it is ours for reasons unbeknownst to me. And you don't have to read very much history before you eat a huge slice of humble pie and realize that you are complete weak sauce.
So it is with sincere gratitude for the opportunity that I admit that this is hard. It's hard to see my kids struggle with such heavy burdens that I know are a result of frequent separations. It's hard to find that balance in marriage between letting go enough that you're not miserable when he's gone, yet intact enough that you remain emotionally invested. Our sacrifices are small, but they are real. And they are worthwhile. My hope is that our children will get it. That they won't grow up in a generation of kids who think they are entitled to their every desire, because they live in America. My hope is that my kids will work for everything they ever get, and do so gratefully, because they live in America.
And like all other times of struggle, we know that the Lord is blessing us in extra abundance. We feel his hand comforting and guiding and the evidence of His tender mercies are so very apparent. Like last week when I went to put Maisey in bed and she wasn't laughing like she usually does so I asked her to spit. She took out a handful of large beads that were under her tongue. Or when I started to think about gas prices while driving for no apparent reason. After I had been thinking about it for a minute or two the thought came to me "Why am I thinking this?". And then I looked down and realized how empty the car was and the last time gas had been put in the car Braden had done it. And then how I rear ended somebody but neither of our cars had even a scratch to show for it. All things that are probably small details not worth mentioning to other people. But to me, in each of those moments, I absolutely knew two things: The gravity of what could have been, and that I had been protected by Him. How grateful I am that in my distracted state of mind and being, he is compensating and caring for us in loving ways.
For all these things, I am grateful. I think it would be safe to say that I am gratefully struggling. And that's an okay place to be, I think.
