You know those days when your tongue moves super slow and your thoughts won't form the way you want them to? The world is on a slight tilt, and the order of steps seems out of reach.
That's how the first 48 hours has been for me. It's not so much the being without the love of my life and their daddy. It's the disruption in routine; the wondering of what the new routine will look like and will bring. The emotions that are there, just holding at bay but not quite to the surface.
So, instead, I gardened. Somehow digging in the dirt gives a purpose to the time. It's instant productivity, and exhausting effort. If I can't take a break from the normalcy of life, maybe I can avoid it for awhile. Or, maybe I can make myself tired enough to let it pass by quickly.
Digging in the dirt always brings me to God. There's usually a lesson out there for me, if I turn over enough shovelfuls. Tonight was no different, but more subtle. The simple reminder that the world is still going, still turning, and progressing the way He wants it to. And it'll continue to do this for another 248 days (more than likely, even longer!). Even when my thoughts aren't in order, His are--always. I hope I'm not the only one who derives a settling peace from that knowledge.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
He left today
Deployment.
I know I'm not the only one. And let me just say I believe in what you're doing. I knew the sacrifice and I knew the risk before we ever got to this.
But today you left. Today starts 250 days without you (give or take, depending on the Navy).
Watching the elevator doors close was heartbreaking. But now I keep thinking of what I should have said before you were gone. What words would have made the impact I needed to make? Do you know what you've done for me? Do you know how I feel about you? Do you trust me to be with our children every day, calm their fears, care for their sickness, and show them your love?
It was impossible to sleep last night. All I could think was that if this was our last night together, would I be able to stand it? The simple act of you breathing next to me was something I've taken for granted for almost 13 years. The rhythm of our life was comfortable, predictable, and while not simple, conquerable. And I let it become too easy.
What a wonder God has given me in our marriage. How amazing is His grace in our love. I am grateful--for every moment I've had, every tear spent in frustration, every act of selflessness you've shown me, and every time I've had to say "I love you." I wish I had said it more. But I am even more grateful for all the unspoken, beautiful words communicated in our every day.
I pray tonight for your safety, a quick adjustment back to military life. I pray for our children to adjust to an absent but involved daddy. And I pray for the grace to honor God during your time away in the way I handle our life, our children. I love you . . .
I know I'm not the only one. And let me just say I believe in what you're doing. I knew the sacrifice and I knew the risk before we ever got to this.
But today you left. Today starts 250 days without you (give or take, depending on the Navy).
Watching the elevator doors close was heartbreaking. But now I keep thinking of what I should have said before you were gone. What words would have made the impact I needed to make? Do you know what you've done for me? Do you know how I feel about you? Do you trust me to be with our children every day, calm their fears, care for their sickness, and show them your love?
It was impossible to sleep last night. All I could think was that if this was our last night together, would I be able to stand it? The simple act of you breathing next to me was something I've taken for granted for almost 13 years. The rhythm of our life was comfortable, predictable, and while not simple, conquerable. And I let it become too easy.
What a wonder God has given me in our marriage. How amazing is His grace in our love. I am grateful--for every moment I've had, every tear spent in frustration, every act of selflessness you've shown me, and every time I've had to say "I love you." I wish I had said it more. But I am even more grateful for all the unspoken, beautiful words communicated in our every day.
I pray tonight for your safety, a quick adjustment back to military life. I pray for our children to adjust to an absent but involved daddy. And I pray for the grace to honor God during your time away in the way I handle our life, our children. I love you . . .
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