Holding On

Some pictures taken last Summer at Nanny Ruth and Papaw Cecil's place.

Papaw...

I took your hand

this last time

and it seemed soft, frail...

But you held tight.

and I held on

to you.

Remembering a Summer day when

I was ten

(As she is now, my Katie Beth)

And you

You were a giant in the hay field then.

We walked together

My small hand in

your brown, leathery, work-calloused one.

I felt all the world was right

That day.

I smiled up at you and chattered on

a magpie of a girl

Sturdy and tan and sure

of you.

And now

It is another day.

Your hand is weak and pale and cool

Your words are rising up to me as mine

rose up to you that day -father of my mother

Giant of my heart.

Though now you are small and fragile

And you are whispering goodbye.

I am holding on.

The Successful Failed Experiment

I think there will be some moaning and groaning around our house this week as the kiddos return from the grandparents.
They will find a drastic change waiting for them, a challenge of sorts. But I feel sure they can rise to the challenge just as they have in the past.
Something will be missing when they get home.
The cable tv has been disconnected!
Horrors!
Yes, actually the cable guy on the phone could hardly believe we were canceling. He kept saying "What will your kids do all Summer??" (Hhmmm...let's see...how about read, play, create, talk...) I think he actually contemplated called CPS.

This may seem sudden, but actually is all started a few months ago.
You see, at first we thought it strange that Pastor Charles Stanley advises people to start reading the bible in the book of Proverbs(stay with me here). But this year we started reading Proverbs with the kids. Its easy to keep up with because each chapter can coincide with a day of the month. So on the 19th, for example, we can read the 19th chapter...thru the 31st and then start back over on the 1st. If we miss a day then we can make it up next month. There is always something new to learn. The Proverbs really is a book replete with timely wisdom. Think of these simple but true proverbs which we would all do well to heed:
"Don't talk too much, for it fosters sin. Be sensible and turn off the flow!" (10:19)
"It is better to be poor and godly than rich and dishonest." (16:8)
"A dry crust eaten with peace is better than a great feast with strife." (17:1)
"Any story sounds true until someone sets the record straight." (18:17)
"Avoiding a fight is a mark of honor, only fools insist on quarreling." (20:1)
"The Lord is more pleased when we do what is just and right than when we give Him sacrifices." (21:3)
The principle 'Bad company corrupts good character' is a truth found throughough the book of Proverbs.
Romans chapter 12: 2 also reminds us:
"Don't copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think..."
I'm just setting the stage here...
Anyway...
About the time we started reading in the book of Proverbs, we also moved to our new duty station. While signing up for internet service we decided to do a six month experiment with cable tv. Since moving back to the US from Zambia three years ago, we have not had cable or satellite tv for more than a handful of months. But we heard about DVR and thought maybe this was something that would help overcome our reticence...after all, we could record the shows we approved for viewing. It would be an ideal way to control the tv watching. And at the same time, we could skip thru the commercials that we find so offensive. Maybe, we thought, with some strict parental control and using these new features we could make cable tv something that could actually enjoy as a family. After all, with DVR we could tape all those great History and National Geo documentaries that could go right along with our homeschool subjects. Not to mention the stuff just for fun ( like watching Paula Deen cook up a batch of Ooey Gooey Butter bars on the FOOD NETWORK!).
The expermient began March 1st...
It ended today, June 21st.
Following are our findings, in a nutshell:

We found that there is nothing on television that is worth...
* The precious family time/interaction that it steals.
* Exposing our children to people that we would not let in the front door of our home!*Exposing our children and ourselves to subtle but powerful anti-God, anti-biblical ideas and biases.
*The $70-$80 per month price tag

And it didn't even take us six months to figure it out.
We tried. We really did. We locked out every show under PG . We carefully monitored the television viewing. We recorded "family friendly" shows.
But we basically found that the draw of the culture was too strong. For instance, even though we allowed our kids to watch two seemingly 'harmless' shows on the Disney channel and one on Nickelodeon, the "addiction" these shows created was ridiculous. In a short time, the same kids who once enjoyed family reading time, games, puzzles and outdoor activities could hardly be persuaded to wrench themselves away from their new "favorite" tv shows. And even though we limited viewing hours, it became the THING to look forward to every day - watching tv.
We tried using it as a homeschool tool. But that failed miserably thanks to the incredibly liberal and anti-Christian bent of the documentaries available. We never did make it thru a complete documentary on the History channel. Other shows that might have been educational (like one chronicalling David Livingstones trek across Africa , which we were particularly interested in) were downright disappointing because they chose to make it a "reality" show, displaying the egos, biases, and inexperiences of the so-called modern"explorers" making the journey.
But really, Mark's comments sum it all up:
"We haven't really found anything good about having television. All it does is open the door to our home to every type of wordly, ungodly influence we try so hard to battle. Our home is a haven for us, for our family. Television is simply the enemy's strategy to infiltrate our home."
Spoken like a true soldier.
And after making that statement, Mark said "Let's get rid of it! Now."
To which I wholeheartedly agreed. (that was yesterday)

So Happy Happy Father's Day! I called and cancelled it today.
You are a GREAT Dad, honey. You make me proud.
I think we can say that our failed experiment was TRULY a Success!!!

Aaaaahhhh.

"It is not by strength that one prevails..."

"It is not by strength that one prevails...", Hannah praised God with those words at Shiloh as she left her only child there -dedicated to the Lord's service. In her song of praise, she reflects on the deliverance and might of God. What do we have that He has not given us? Hannah knew that she was the recipient of God's blessing. When her own frail body refused to produce a child, she asked the Lord and 'the Lord remembered her'. She conceived and gave birth to Samuel.

Hannah reminds us that warriors are strengthened and kings are enthroned only by the might of the Lord. Children are born, fed, and clothed by His mercy. He brings poverty and wealth, humility and exaltation. "For the foundation of the earth is the Lord's; upon them He has set the world."
Truly I cannot prevail against this world in my own strength. None of us can. I am only recently reminded of that. My body does not cooperate with my desires. The things I long to do, I cannot do. I am uncomfortably limited and will be for some time. Endeavoring to slog through, persevere, and just grit my teeth - that good old "can do" spirit, well, it seemed to work for a time (a rather long time), But it was a facade. I am physically broken. It is only God's hand that has held me up (and continues to do so). I long to cook for my family, but I cannot. I long to pick up my son and hold him but I cannot. The very ones who I long to serve and care for are having to serve me. My mother has had to come and care for me like a little child. Friends are making our meals and cleaning the bathrooms. And it will be weeks of recovery.
It is humbling and... sacred.
Humbling, obviously -when you can't even bend over to pull up your own pants! But sacred...because I have this opportunity to receive from others. And I hold it like a precious treasure, this gift of their service and mercy...their patience...their acts of kindness and love.
And I actually have all this time to sit and think about it, to ponder their gift.

But I also have time to watch the news.
Which frightens me if I keep it on too long, because it all seems a bit overwhelming. It sure makes my crisis seem insignificant, what with world powers in conflict and all...
And then Mark will come home from work and shake my reality with news about a Memorial service he attended for 13 Marines killed in Afghanistan....and how his heart ached for the families, for the children, those sons and daughters whose Daddies will never come home. He will turn his face away when he is telling me this, because he doesn't want me to see that he is crying and that his day has been heavy with sorrow.
Again I am reminded that it is not by strength that one prevails. Yes, Hannah, you were right. Our own bodies are frail. Our world is bent on destruction. Our warriors fall in battle.
The only hope that we have is this: that the same God who holds the foundation of the world in His hand, is not haphazard. He is not random. He is all-knowing, all-powerful, and ever-present. He does not change. Hannah's God is still the same.


"He will guard the feet of His saints"















'

In his Experiencing God devotional book Henry Blackaby writes pointedly:

"There are times when Jesus will ask you to join Him as He is at work in the life of your friend, family, or coworker. If you are preoccupied with your own needs, you will miss the blessing of sharing in His divine activity. God is gracious. He forgives, and He provides other opportunities. He will even use our failings to bring about good, but it is critical that we respond in obedience to every prompting from God. God does not need our obedience; He has legions of angels prepared to do His bidding when we fail Him. The loss is ours as we miss what God wants to do in our lives."
At this moment, I am sitting at the computer early in the morning ("o'dark hundred") having just rolled out of bed and stumbled downstairs a few minutes ago. Outside, about 100 yards in front of my house, a company of Marines is making a heap of noise. They are outfitted in full gear and the Gunny is screaming every obscenity he can conjure. These guys are running some kind of tortuous drills. But, boy, are they motivated. Lots of "ooh-rahs" and cheering fill the air. The sun is just comng up.
Farther away, an artillery battery has started firing the big guns. A dull thud and "Boom" reverberates through the house every 20 minutes or so.
The birds are still singing. Like us, they are used to the noise. Living on base, I daily see countless young Marines going about the business of soldiering. They are being conformed to one another, conformed to being a Marine. It is serious stuff.
I don't mind these drills out in front of my house. I am sorry that my kids might wake up and hear an obscenity. But I know that those guys are training for battle one day. And I am reminded that many (most?) of them do not know Christ. They are well-prepared to win a physical battle, but spiritually they are helpless without Him. This is my prayer-field.
I wish I could say that I take every opportunity God offers to me. But I don't.
Like Blackaby says, I get caught up in my own needs.
But sometimes I will pass a young man in uniform (and amazingly they seem to get younger and younger!) and I will be struck with the possibility that he may be deployed tomorrow. He may be in combat next week. He may be in a car accident overnight. Those thoughts motivate me to pray for him, to pray that the Lord will put a Godly friend or Chaplain in his path, that his heart will be softened to the truth and he will come to know Christ as his Saviour, his Friend, his Front and Rear Guard...
And then there are the families...
I don't want to miss what God is doing around me. I am praying about this neighborhood He put us in. It is really beautiful. Technically, it is a miracle that we got this house. But He is completely in control. So Mark and I are anticipating what He is already doing here. We want to join Him. So I am praying. And I am making friends. And I am looking to see where God is at work.
Oh, I wonder how often the angels have had to pick up my unfinished tasks. Or when they have gotten the privilege of doing His bidding when I failed...I look back and I know that I have often been too preoccupied with my self and my family to share in His activity. But I just have to wrap myself in His grace, take another breath, look out my window...and try again.
Thank You, Lord.

Moving Tips I WILL Remember Next Time!

Next time we move (which I hope is not for a few years! Did you hear that, Mr. Navy Detailer?!), I need to remember a few things. So for posterity (and sanity's) sake I am going to record them here:

1. WATCH Mr. Packer and MAKE SURE he labels each box in detail. Do not be deterred when he tries to get rid of you by insisting that he has worked for the packing company for 110 years, is a veteran of two wars and promises with his hand over his heart that he will label your boxes correctly. DO NOT BELIEVE HIM!!! No matter how much he looks like your husband's Uncle Bill or whatever. If you believe him then you deserve to find your cookware in the box marked "HOMESCHOOLING SUPPLIES".
2. Hold on to your pots, pans and utensils until the end and pack them in the last box yourself. Then label it clearly "LAST BOX ON<>
3. Put the kids' bike helmets in the FIRST BOX OFF, because they WILL get bored and want to go explore their new neighborhood as soon as Mr. Unpacker gets their bikes put together again.
4. Don't let the unloaders stack boxes 10-high in a dark corner of the garage where you can't read them and you have to unstack the whole thing to get to the one with the bike helmets:<
5. Insist that the unloaders also stay and unpack EVERYTHING and carry off every box and piece of wrapping paper with them when they go. Yes, I know they will look surprised, they will go super slow hoping you will get fed up and tell them to go home, they may even tell you a sad story about missing their 3 year olds birthday party. Dont buy it. The military pays them good money to stay and unpack every single box and even put it where you tell them to. Don't get short changed, even if you dont have a place to put all of it right away. Just stack it against the wall. At least it will be out of the confounded box and the box (and all the paper) will be their job to get rid of! I repeat "DON'T GET LEFT WITH ALL THE BOXES AND PAPER!"
6. Don't take lip from the truckdriver/unloaders about how they cant carry stuff to the attic or they can't put the dishes up in the cabinet, they just have to leave them on the counter. This is a clever ploy to make you so disgusted that you will send them all away. Instead, just smile and call the number for the military Liason who has been assigned to your move. Let them handle it. Soon, your stuff will be in the attic and your dishes will be in the cabinets:>
7. Don't feed the movers (on either side) PIZZA. Be creative. Everyone gives them pizza.
8. Give them a big tip - both packers and unpackers. If they do the job they are supposed to do, these guys work HARD. They deserve it.
9. Be prepared to spend a LOT if not ALL of your dislocation allowance (and most of what you thought you "saved" by eating bologna sandwiches and staying in cheap motels on that cross country drive).
10. Moving is expensive. Actually, its the getting settled that costs so much. A new house always means new spaces to fill and new storage needs to accomodate. It also means new curtains when your new house has 20 windows and your old house only had 10.
11. I don't know why, but moving always means a new bookshelf or two.
12. It also means eating out longer than you thought because: Mom did not follow advice #1.) or #2.) on this list. She failed to insist that her cookware be packed in the FIRST OFF box because she THOUGHT that the packer was correctly labeling each and every box. Sigh...So by the time she rifled through twenty two boxes labeled only "K-ware" (the pots and pans were, of course in box #22 with the beach towels), well, Mom was too darned tired to cook anything! So be prepared to eat out a few extra times.
13. I can't think of another one. But I'm sure I will in about 30 months...Thank you Uncle Sam.

Its All About You

In church service on Sunday, we sang a chorus to a popular worship song that went something like this:
"I'm sorry Lord for the thing I've made it.
Cause its all about You.
Its all about You
Jesus."
There is more to the song, but I can't remember the other words. ITS ALL ABOUT YOU just kept reverberating in my mind thru the whole sermon. It was a little epiphany moment for me, you might say.
So instead of paying closer attention to the sermon (the Lord seemed to have other issues to address with me), I felt moved to write this prayer...

Lord forgive us for making it all about Us. In particular, forgive me for making it all about ME most of the time.
Help us to keep You firmly on the throne of life, in the center of our focus every day.
Forgive us for the feelings of discontent and dissatisfaction that we allow to take root and grow. Forgive us for our worries over the future and our lack of trust in where You choose to place us at any given time.
Show us how to focus our hearts and minds on You, to see where You are at work right where You've put us today -lest we miss it because we are straining to see where You might put us tomorrow.
Keep us willing and pliable to do Your will and go if You say "Go". In the meantime, plant us deeply where we are now, that we might serve You -knowing that Your will for us does not center on a place or a job title, but on our relationship with You and our day to day obedience.
Lord, You know our hearts, that Mark and I committed ourselves to serve You many years ago. We committed to go whereever You called us -no matter what the cost. And You, Lord, have proved to be a demanding but Oh-so-loving and faithful Master!
Our committment has not changed. But we serve You imperfectly, childishly at times. We cringe at the costs and complain when the demands are uncomfortable. We pull our hands willfully out of Yours and find ourselves dismayed when we fall on our faces.
We get caught up in the lure of material things, forgetting that we are supposed to be in the world and not of it. We sometimes lack discernment and self-control. And we must constantly remind ourselves to set a higher standard and live by it. But we often miss the mark.
Lord, too many times we have become confident in Your favor rather than being confident in who You are. Life presses in and we give way to worry,doubt, pride, impatience, insecurity and fear.
It becomes all about us.

Forgive us, O Lord.
Because, really, its all about You Jesus.

SHARE THE ROAD

About a week before Mark came home, I was driving along and saw a yellow road sign that read: SHARE THE ROAD. The word SHARE seemed to leap off the sign at me. It hit me very suddenly that in a few days I would have to do just that -SHARE. Share everything with Mark. The bathroom, the toothpaste, the bed, the children...all of it, even the very vehicle I was driving. After all, we only have one car and he would want to drive it sometimes, too.

It was a jarring thought.

Now this seemed strange to me (so if you are befuddled just keep reading) because I truly longed for Mark to come home and "rescue" me from the trials and tribulations of single motherhood. I could gladly share a little housework, childrearing, and lawn mowing. However, when it came to a few other things, as I said, I was shaken. I had grown accustomed to my little routine.

Well, I kept driving and out the thought out of my mind for another week. We had a joyous reunion when Mark came home. But within a couple of days, I stood in the bathroom having a flashback to that yellow sign. My typically neat, tidy-for-a-whole-week bathroom could not survive the onslaught of hurricane Mark. Within hours of being cleaned it seemed that water spots stained the mirror, towels and dirty clothing littered the floor, and toothpaste shamelessly smeared the sink. I will not mention the toilet.

SHARE

What did it all mean? I sighed and thought about the ten piles of laundry hepaed up from his now-empty sea bags. I would hav eto wash those suckers and then clear out some extra drawer space for his clothes. And all that other "stuff" he brought back...gobs and gobs of gear, books, and a few Iraqi souvenires. Our garage was overflowing. But it was getting late.

I guessed that fish sticks were out for dinner because Mark hates that kind of thing. I would have to cook "real" food. I was pooped just thinking about it all. I could hear squealing and laughing coming from the living room where Mark and the boys were having a wrestling/tickle-fest.

SHARE

A decision had to be made.

I could stomp around bitterly for a few days, bemoaning my dirty, cluttered house. I could feel sorry for myself and be a fool.

Or I could smile at the messes and thank God that Mark is here to make them. I could lay everything down right now. My pride, my independence, my self...and embrace the real gift of being Mark's helper, the gift of having him home.

It wasn't a tough choice.:>

Brothers

Mark stops in Al Tequaddum on his way to Kuwait and spends some time with his brother-in-law, Chaplain Mark Brooks.

Remember, O LORD...

This morning I read Psalm 132:1-10. As part of a bible study I am working on, I had to re-write it, personalize it. I considered the first verse :"The LORD remembered David and all the hardships he endured", and I pondered what it means to endure hardship...It has always been difficult for me to grasp this one, at least personally. I don't consider myself as enduring hardship- not really. I don't think I have known suffering -not truly. Not as my Saviour has. Everything else seems so small compared to what He endured.
But this verse helped me to see that God knows our frailty. He knows our level of endurance...each one personally. He considered David's hardships like an offering.

And as I read, my mind turned to Mark.
His hardships are an offering, a sacrifice to the Master he loves.
He endures separation from his family, intense heat, long work days with no time off, dangerous travel, hearing constant bad language and ungodly talk, little fellowship with other believers, PT in 100 degree, dry weather, the constant threat of sniper fire or mortars...
He could probably write a book, but he won't, because he rarely mentions any of that.
Instead, he just makes a joke and goes about doing what must be done,what he went there to do...be the hands and feet of Christ...the voice of one calling in the wilderness.

We have often talked about this move and why we did it. Why did we leave a job we loved (and did together) to come back into the military? We talk about it to remind ourselves... There was one overwhelming reason (and then alot of small things that confirmed it to us). It was a promise we made to eachother and to God when we first were married. We agreed that when God called, we would listen. No matter how difficult the task, no matter what sacrifice involved. We would work our whole lives to take the gospel whereever He called us.
We were so solemn then, making this pact. It was a serious thing. Yet it was a decision we made with youthful vision and dreams of adventure. But our Lord has firmly held us to it... though the adventure long ago gave way to real pain and a sometimes grit-your-teeth endurance.
Knowing what I know now...
I would promise again.

So here's my version of Psalm 132:1-10

The LORD remembered Mark
and all the hardships he endured,
and how he promised the LORD
"I will follow whereever You lead.
I will take Your Word to the war-front
and to the homeport.
I will be all things to all men in order to win some to You,
O Lord.
I will be a soldier to win soldiers to You."

Baptism in Ramadi

Mark is baptizing a young man he lead to the Lord a few weeks ago in Iraq.

Isaac's First Day of Preschool...

We can hardly believe it! Isaac is almost four, and he's going to preschool this year.
These are the pics we took on his first day. Of course his sisters and brother had to tag along. I think they hated to see him go as much as I did!
But Isaac was so excited, and he hardly looked back after walking into the class.
He sure has come a long way from being that tiny little preemmie in the NICU...

Here is Mark with the Euphrates River in the background

Ben praying "Dear Jesus, please bless Daddy and let him come home soon, 'cuz I miss him and love him and make the days go speedy fast til he comes back..."





Isaac playing with snails in the yard: "Dey'll sweep on duh fuffies..." translation : "They'll sleep on the fluffies" (Isaac's name for flower petals).





Bedtime questions from Benjamin: "Mom, will God ever turn bad?" "Mom, should we believe in spirits since we know God?" "Mom, why does our mouth make so much spit?" "Mom, why did Nana marry Poppop?"


Isaac questions: "Was you a liddle giwrl who pa'yed with toys once?"


Benjamin ask me at the beach this weekend: "Mom, can you go ahead and baptize me now?" (I had to insist that we wait for Daddy!)

Smiling is so much better than frowning. And laughing is better than crying.

For Thou art with me...

Chaplain Mark Conard receives the 'all clear' to pray for a departing convoy of troops in Iraq...

Take Two...

I've lost six pounds in ten days.
It was that stubborn six from the last baby that even weight watchers didn't budge.
But a bad appendics and a sick gallbladder melted it right off. Not the kind of weight loss program I would recommend. But highly effective. A nurse in surgery told me that another "gallbladder" (patients don't have names -just "the gallbladder in room 2") had lost twenty five pounds in a month. Gee, if only the diet companies could sell that : "BAD GALLBLADDER IN A BOTTLE - lose weight fast without even trying! No exercise required."
Of course they won't mention that the side-effects of a rogue gallbladder are pretty uncomfortable and that due to the nausea and pain food pretty much loses all appeal (if you can keep anything down at all).
I wouldn't buy it.

So I'm six pounds lighter and short two organs, to which I say "good riddance".
My bellybutton will never look the same and I'm pretty sure I'll never even wear bikini underwear again let alone a swimsuit. But in a couple of months I'm going to look back with longing on these peaceful days spent propped up on pillows in a dark bedroom, watching the FOOD Network and reading novels.
No, I definitely won't miss all the discomforts, weaknesses, and pains that come from surgery. But I'll look back thankfully on the rest.
Even now I have been able to say, and really mean it, "Thank You Lord".
Thank You for watching over me. Thank You for a mom and sister who are also nurses and take such good care of me. Thank You for forcing me to stop and listen to You.
Thank You for rest and healing.
And thank You for giving me extra time to pray.
Help me use it well.

Hot water bottles and chocolates...

The kids and I are packing up and heading to Virginia for the Summer. Yippee! We can hardly wait to be surrounded by our family. And Stephanie (my twin sister) and her little tribe are headed in from Okinawa, Japan. Two months into Mark's seven month deployment and we can use a BIG diversion.

While we are away, I have offered the use of our house to a couple of families who are moving. They will need a place to stay while they do their "pack out"s and clean their homes for inspection. I figure that since we won't be here it only makes sense for them to make use of our house...
So...ok, I am my mother's girl. I confess. I have been scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees. I have scoured the bathrooms, cleaned out the closets, and washed all the sheets and blankets. I even had a yard sale today (and made a whopping $9). What's driving me? I pondered amidst the scrubwater. Mark can attest that I am by no means Martha Stewart. I even have a sign in my kitchen that says "My house was clean yesterday, sorry you missed it!" (gratis Stephanie!).
I thought of my mom. Mom shows love through acts of service. Whether its cooking up a southern meal from scratch for twenty people or preparing her house for the white glove test before we visit. And its not like any of us would actually look for dust. When we go home we are just happy to be there. But I have learned that this is Mom's way of saying "I love you. I want you to feel special and cared for". I think I used to take it for granted. But now I notice those efforts. And I see them for what they are. I even find myself emulating my Mom.
When Mark and I lived in Zambia, we kept a tiny one room guesthouse in our back yard. Now, my husband is the consummate Concierge. He LOVES playing host. And since I am the "Mrs" that makes me host-ess. It took me a a few years into our marriage to warm to the role (of hostess!). But in Zambia, Mark took it to a whole new level. He delighted in leaving hot water bottles in our guests' beds and chocolates under their pillows. I got into the act by making a coffee/tea tray in the guesthouse complete with hot pot and mugs. It was fun. And it was special. It was our way to say "We care about you!" to our fellow missionaries. If just for one night we could lift their burdens and make them smile...that was Mark's heart. And it became mine too.
So here I find myself sad that my Summer guests will come and I will not be here to tuck a hot water bottle in their bed and a chocolate under their pillow...sigh...
Well, I can at least clean the house!
I took a break and called Dad...He said mom was outside having a yard sale!

Dear Mark...

Dear Mark,
It was so good to hear your voice on the phone last weekend...I did not want to hang up. Sometimes this fear in me swells up, you know. While you are talking to me on the phone I can be sure that you are ok. I can hear you breathe and laugh and sigh...you are real again, right beside of me. But when I hang up that phone, you are a world away from me. And it is a dream world that I cannot imagine...that maybe I don't want to imagine.
These past few days, I have known you are "out"...out of the protection of the "wire" (as you call it over there). So I just keep swallowing back that fear.
My trust is not in where you are (or where you are not), but in Who is with you.
I wish I could reassure you, sweetheart, that my faith was perfect and unwavering. But that would be disingenuine. Sometimes I waver. Sometimes I lie awake at night and ask myself questions like: "What if the CACO Chaplain comes to my door?""What will I do if I see a government car pull in the drive?"...stupid, destructive questions...But don't you think that all the other wives are asking the same ones? I wonder...but none of us would ever say it. That would be admitting that we think of such unthinkable things.
What do you think of? Do you wonder what the kids are doing in the evening? Do you imagine what it feels like to hug them goodnight? I ache for you over that one, darling. I know how badly you must miss them...I think in that way this separation is harder for you than for me. Yes, I am exhausted and lonely for your company, but I have the children. You, on the other hand, just have a bunch of sweaty guys!
When you called this time you sounded good -not discouraged like last week. I'm glad I could cheer you up then. I know that some days are harder than others. And we have an enemy who would like nothing better than to keep us in a pit. But Mark, you are right when you say that sometimes obeying God's call if very painful...sometimes I ask Him wouldn't He please like to give us another assignment? Preferably one we could do side by side? But the answer for now is a firm NO. So, like you, I would rather be separated and in the middle of His will than holding hands outside of it.
I love and miss you so much! Happy 40th Birthday!

Let us persevere, My Love...for His sake.
Stacey

One month down...

For two weeks I have been trying to find time to sit down at my computer and write this blog. But uninterrupted time is hard to come by here in my house. Seems like there is always a pressing need, an urgent request, or a shrill scream: i.e. "Mooooommmm!!!!".
So I got up extra early this morning to write this. I don't know why... its not like I am a syndicated columnist. I wonder why people write blogs? Some people even write them every day or even several times a day(those people must get paid!).
I asked myself this morning if I couldn't just email someone. But it feels cathartic to get things in print like this. And hey I get to play with the font and the templates and add pictures... And with a blog I am not forcing anyone to read my ramblings. As a matter of fact I think I have a readership of two (and one of you is my mom).
Well, we have sailed past the one month milestone.
My adrenaline is running a little low now, I'll admit. I think the first month for us military- wives-of-deployed-service-members is all about adrenaline. Its all about making new routines, keeping busy, sending packages like crazy, and waiting for those first phone calls. Its about getting used to sleeping alone (unless you have kids like mine who like to camp out in your bedroom), trying to trim the lawn without amputating a limb (your own, with the weed-eater)... and utter despair when you come home to find a message on the phone from your husband that says he called while you were making that fifteen minute trip to the Commissary for milk (after sitting by the phone for four days). Its the bitterness of holding your six year old son when he finally breaks down and sobs "I miss my Daddy!!!!". Then the bittersweetness of watching your kids adjust to not having their Daddy, and trying to keep a balance of missing him and going on without him (all the while remembering that we will be making the reverse adjustment again in a few months).
Its about knowing that no one who is not a military wife can truly understand how you feel or what you need -but wishing desperately that they did! Its realizing that we are a military at war and not a country at war. And most Americans live their lives without a thought to the sacrifices that are being made on their behalf -every day, every moment. And its having to hear from well-meaning friends and relatives how poorly they think our government is being run and how our troops should just come home...which is no comfort to me because I am proud of my country and what our troops are doing in Iraq. What really encourages me is for people to say : I believe in what your husband is doing. I appreciate his sacrifice."
This first month for me has been all about staying the course...not wavering with every emotion, but setting my mind steadfastly to the task at hand. Every morning I remind the Lord about His promise in Isaiah 54:5, that HE is my Husband. He will have to meet my needs and walk with me. He will have to fend off fear and uncertainty. He will be my Refuge and my Rock. Peace will have to flow from Him. In my own strength I will lose resilience. I will waver. I will give way to loneliness and fear. But in His power I am equipped for all things....even being a military wife.


May 9th has been designated Military Spouse Day by president George Bush this year!

Countdown...

Less than 2 weeks til Mark leaves. The painful tearing apart process has begun... At night in bed I stay close to him, trying to commit the feel of him, the warmth and strength of him, to memory...I wake in the still, dark hours and listen to his breathing. I can't fall back asleep. My mind is too full of the reality that he is leaving, that he is going to a very dangerous place far away. As I lay there, my heart begins to race...I feel panic at the thought of being alone...alone with four precious children to care for...this is an anxiety attack, I know. So I pray...until the fear shrinks and I can tuck it away. I would like to say that it disappears altogether. But that would be too easy...and insincere. I must live with it. No, I must live through it. Sometimes I just have to hold on...to grab the Lord's strong hand and duck my head and plow through...
But one thing I know, I cannot give fear the upper hand. It is dark and wicked and all- consuming. If I give even an inch then it will take a mile in my mind.
Yet even when the fear subsides, the aching pain in my heart remains...
My best friend is going away. ..my encourager, my lover, my protector, my friend, my husband.

I love to hear Mark play with the kids...he tickles and wrestles and his laugh is contagious. Every night he and Benjamin go for a walk. I stand at the front doorwatching as they head down the sidewalk holding hands. Mark's tall shoulders bend towards his little son to listen, with Benjamin chatting happily, casting smiles up to his dad...
One night I went back inside only to have Isaac grab me and say "You be daddy! You tickle me!". I laughed and tickled him until he squealed. But it reminded me with a shock that in a few days I will have to be both Mom and Dad...and I know that I can't do it. I can never take their Daddy's place even for a day, let alone six or seven months...I can't fill the void his journey will leave...
And oh how I dread the tears and the anguished little cries when he goes...
Just a few nights ago, I hugged Ben and asked him how he felt about Dad's leaving soon. He said softly "Bad. I feel bad".
"What kind of bad?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"A sad kinda bad. 'Cause I am gonna miss our times together..." he paused, "and I'm afraid Daddy's gonna get killed over there...but I can't talk about that right now." He stopped abruptly...
"Because if it will make me cry, and I don't want to cry right now ."

Me either, Benjamin. They'll be time for that in two weeks.

ABC News: Chaplains Salute Each of the Fallen

ABC News: Chaplains Salute Each of the Fallen