Sunday, January 24, 2010

acting and being

Today I am tired. I am tired for so many reasons but at the root of it all, I tried to do this weekend in my own strength. I tried too hard and got nowhere. I can act kind, I can act joyful, I can act at peace, and I can act loving, but it beats me down eventually. I am ready to be kind, to be joyful, to be at peace, and to be loving. It's the Fruit. It's here, it's my choice.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

The Glad Game

I am so proud of them. The little people in my house rock. The goodbye is over and we are plowing ahead. A few tears, a few sad moments, but for the most part, they choose to see the good in it.
Their list:
1. It is only a short trip, at least it's not a long one.
2. We get to eat at Subway after church.
3. We get to have cupcakes when he gets home.
4. 26 days is not very long.
5. Daddy would not want us to be sad.
6. Daddy always comes home
7. We can go pick him up when his jet comes in.
This is their list. Their glad game. I love these kids.
My list:
1. If I have to be away from my man, at least I have the four coolest kids in the world to do it with!

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Dry Run

He is going. Thankfully it is a short one. He leaves tomorrow but is at work today (it's a rainy Saturday!). I'm bummed, but I get it. It's his job. It's what he does, it's what they do. Go, come, go, come. Goodbyes are never easy, not even the short ones. Those are almost harder. You do the worst of a long deployment: the very beginning and the very end. The beginning is always hard. Watching the packing, working extra hours, saying goodbye, trying not to imagine the number of days, staying out of the dumps, it's all hard. The end is always hard. Waiting, waiting, more waiting, it's all hard. With a long deployment, the beginning eventually becomes "your groove." Everyone is in a routine, life is "normal," you're doing it. It's like being on cruise control for a long car trip. Music's on, miles are passing, kids are content. No one is asking, "Are we almost there yet?" "When is the next stop?" "I'm hungry." "I need to use the bathroom." With a short deployment, we never hit cruise. We go straight from beginning to the end. The questions always come. "Why does he have to go?" "How long will he be gone?" "Where is he going?" "How many days is 4 weeks?" "How many more days NOW?" It's hard. Tomorrow is a short trip. I've watched him pack, he is working today, we will say goodbye before church tomorrow, and already I am fending off being in the dumps. It is a short one. June will be a long one. Tomorrow is our dry run. Thankfully it's a short one.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

one in a million

ok, actually it's one in 52,325. It is a statistic I heard recently. How many people do you need before you get one Marine? The answer was Yankee Stadium needed to fill to capacity before you got one Marine. I had to know. What are the odds that my man is a Marine. gave the capacity of 52,325. Wow. I knew he was great, but I would have to search 52,325 people before I found my "one of the few?" As I mulled it over, I wondered how many of those Marines would end up flying? How many of those flying would end up flying a jet? How many of those ending up in a jet, would end up in an f18? Of those in an F18, how many would be in 224? And so my questions went. Until I got the answer of only one. He's my one. My One of the Few. To me, he is one in a Million.

is that him?

It was 9:00pm and the jets were overhead. It was unbelieveably loud and each time I heard one approaching in the distance, I silently willed the girls to stay asleep. Often the jets wake them up when they fly so late and they get scared. I have to go into them and we talk about what the jets are doing and who is up there and why. When Daddy is deployed, it is hard, so very hard to comfort them. BUT when he is home and flying late, we wait and listen and wonder: Is that him? It becomes a game and when we hear a jet, we wonder, if it is Daddy, can he see our house, is he busy, is he going to land soon, is he hungry, did he get the bad guys? The jet noise becomes less scary with each pass and more and more fun as we listen for the roar in the distance. "Here he comes again!" and the game continues. Eventually the jets land, the noise stops, the quiet is still, and it is goodnight time once again. As I leave, I promise the girls I will remind Daddy to come and kiss them. Tonight as I sat there and the girls stayed asleep, I couldn't help but play by myself as I heard one off in the that him?

Saturday, January 9, 2010

The One Thing

I just came home from a baby shower. All the usual applied, good food, silly games, and awesome sweets. But as I looked around it was not a "usual" crowd. We were all so different. We were in such different seasons of life, different tastes and ideas, different jobs, different hobbies and talents, different religions, different goals, different ways of doing things, different hometowns, different paths of life, different everything. What struck me though, was the one thing that linked us all. We all married a Marine. All differences aside, we all love dress blues, we all cover our hearts for the national athem, we all have lonely nights and happy homecomings...even those that aren't ours, we love the Marine Corps Hymn, we watch his sea bag come and go, we count down days and make paper chains, we Skype on birthdays, we become Dad when his absence forces it and joyfully step back to "just Mom" when he returns, "Today in Afghanistan..." can stop us dead in our tracks, we love the sound of a bark or an ooo-rah, green shirts overload our washer, and the smell of jet fuel graces our homes. All the "differents" in the world could never break this connection. I love being a Marine wife and so do they. It connects us. Makes us a "usual" group. It's our one thing. And it's enough.

Saturday, January 2, 2010 favorite number

If you ask anyone, usually 96 is not their first response to "what is your favorite number?" But ask a Marine Corps wife and 96 usually will be. You see, 96 means so much to me. It means 4 long, sweet days with my man, late mornings and big breakfasts, talks over coffee and on the computer, long walks with the 6 of us, boxes checked off the "Honey-do" list, renting movies, Outback take out, errands and lunch out, football throwing in the park and silly stories over dinner, a fire in the fireplace, jeans in the laundry and a lack of green t-shirts and black socks, it means he is home and not just "in the states," but home, physically in our home. Home, home. We are coming to the end of two back to back 96s. I love them and am trying to hang on to the remaining 48 hours of one. Just when I feel like I am on a treadmill going two speeds too fast, God sends me a 96 and my man. How cool is that?