To the Veteran I Love Most, On Veteran's Day

   

     You weren't the typical fresh-faced enlistee when you joined the Army smack-dab in the middle of the Iraq War. We knew if you joined the military it wouldn't be a question of  "if" you were sent to fight, but rather "when". We had only been married for barely a year, but you were still older than many of your fellow recruits. You started fighting before you were even in the military, trying to secure a spot, working hard to meet the requirements that seemed always just out of reach-not quite the right weight, not quite fast enough. But you were persistent, and finally, you were in.

   We pored over the brochure that listed all of the Military Occupational Specialties in the days before you went to make your choice in St. Louis. We narrowed our choices down to twelve, each specified by it's own unique number and letter code. You would talk to the recruiter there, and decide which one would be the best fit.

    I remember standing in my teller cage at the bank when the call came in: you told me you had decided on 19D. I knew that wasn't one of the twelve. You told me it was "Cavalry Scout". I was dumbfounded-neither one of us knew what that really meant, but you did know that you were to report to BASIC training at the end of September. That was not as far away as I wanted it to be.

    We packed. I moved. You left. BASIC tried you like I had never seen anything try you before. You have only ever cried twice in all the time that I have known you, and home for Christmas that year you admitted  with tears your fears that you would be "recycled" forced to endure training over again for not succeeding, or worse yet, you would be kicked out entirely.

  But you made it. You graduated in February-top in your class for marksmanship. I was so proud. We had breathlessly awaited your assignment and when we were told it was Ft. Hood, TX, we weren't really sure how to feel about that. But precious little in the military is about feelings, so we hauled everything down from Illinois and you started working and I started waiting.

   If there is anything that describes a military wife it is "waiting". Waiting for her husband to come home for dinner, waiting for the house on post, waiting for the next assignment, waiting for those precious phone calls during deployment, waiting for homecoming. I saw precious little of you, and when you were told soon after you reported that you would be deploying in the fall. Right after we also found that would be when Josie would be coming too-the question was which would arrive first?

   If I thought I had endured hard, I wasn't prepared to be the wife of a Cav Scout at the height of the war. Being pregnant with a husband who was rarely home (you often left for work at 4:15 am and would not arrive home until 9 pm or later and that was if you weren't gone overnight training) is the hardest thing I have ever done. It was harder on you.

   But not as hard as leaving your weepy wife and three day-old baby. I had no idea when I would talk to you next. The reality that I might not ever talk to you again clung to me like lead blanket. It was a very, very real possibility. You finally called after three weeks-and the five minutes we spoke was a gift straight from heaven.

   That year. I look back now and see all the places the Lord carried us. The times you hung up in the middle of 2 am phone calls and I could *hear* things going off in the background. The weeks and weeks we couldn't speak because one of your fellow soldiers had paid the ultimate sacrifice and communications were cut off until the family was notified. The precious letters that you painstakingly wrote. The carefully planned care packages, packed with all the skill of a professional Tetris player. That time you told me about driving your Humvee, and feeling sloshing around your boots, and yelling for everyone to get out, and the fire-the sloshing was fuel, and you had been driving a death trap unknowingly. And realizing that I had been awakened from a sound sleep-praying for you at the exact moment, and despite that the movie-worthy explosion and your poor gas-soaked feet, you all made it out okay, because God is gracious.

    And all the things you didn't tell me. Not about that deployment-the Lord returned you to me in one piece almost exactly a year later. Or your next deployment not quite three years later (we were blessed, many weren't home for that long) this time leaving behind a two year-old and a six month-old, and of course, me. Many things you didn't tell me for many years.

   And now, after seven years of service, like the Biblical Jacob, and years of being "out" I realize that you will never be a civilian again. You will always be a "vet". You have your favorite war stories, the ones that make everyone laugh, or keep them on the edge of their seats. We tell tales of post living, and long nights, miserable higher-ups and the ones who made your job a tiny bit more bearable. But I will never be able to really know what it was like for you. I will never know the parts of your heart that are forever stained by the awful realities of war, the ache you carry for those you served with who came home permanently wounded (both inside and out) or in a flag-draped box.

     You are now that crusty old vet. And I could not be prouder. God did not call you to life-long military service, but the time that you served was definitely part of His plan for us. I had spent my childhood growing up with a fierce pride for America's military and it was the pinnacle to be married to someone in service. The Army took much from us-memories, peace, security, your health, but it gave us much, too. You will never be who you were before you served, but I know you don't regret that.  You were proud to meet your country's call in a time of need. You were proud to wear the uniform that proclaimed that commitment. And now you are proud of the memories you have of your bravery and sacrifice.

    You are a veteran. In the truest sense of the word, and I now know what Veteran's Day means. It means that for one day, we honor you for being willing to sacrifice limb, love and life to keep those you hold dearest and those you have never met, free. We can never truly repay you for that sacrifice, but I hope you know, my dear sweet husband, that I, at least, am thankful for it every single day.

P.S. The beautiful photo above was taken by a observer at a Veteran's Day parade in Colorado Springs. The photographer tracked me down afterwards and offered to send the photo to me, as she thought I would enjoy it. She did, but I never did really thank her appropriately. It is my favorite photo ever of Joel and Josie, and if I ever found that person again, I would say thank you for the precious gift she gave me.

G.I.G-Day 27

     I cannot lie: one of the things I was most excited about when we decided to move here was knowing that we would *finally* have some family nearby to babysit! We had sweet friends who would take our kids when we lived in Colorado, but we tried to save those favors for special occasions. Now, we have much more frequent "dates", for things like random Tuesdays! It is really nice.

   Really, I get excited any time that I can just hang out with Joel. He is truly my favorite person, and that is saying a lot since we have been together 14 years. Anyway, I figured if I could devote an entire day to things I am thankful for about Josie, then Joel definitely deserved his own day.

Today I am thankful that Joel:

1. Makes me laugh. He always has, and I love that often he goes out of his way to elicit a smile or laugh from me.

2. Is such a good dad. He has always taken the lead role in parenting. I am so thankful for that, because surprisingly, I am a pushover when it comes to discipline.

3. That he continues to seek to grow spiritually. It is really inspiring.

4. Is so handsome. I know, shallow, but I am thankful God let me have a good-looking one. ;)

5. Works so hard. No matter what he does, he is not afraid of hard work.

6. Is not a complainer. He really isn't, and he has taught me a lot about contentment.

7. Is not afraid to lead. He doesn't demand to be in charge, but when he is placed in those positions he is confident and worthy of respect.

8. Has a heart for service. He doesn't mind getting his hands dirty, and he doesn't demand recognition for it, either.

9. Is willing to work on bettering our marriage. He has matured so much in our relationship-often he humbles me with his response to contention or disagreement. He sets a godly example.

10. Is easy to please. Simple things, like breakfast in bed and clean socks, make him happy. If I cook his favorite meal it makes him ecstatic!

11. Is so handy. He can fix so many things, and has good practical solutions for most problems around the house.

12. Prays with us. It is so important to me, and I am glad it is important to him, too.

13. Is humble. He doesn't seek accolades or acclaim, he is just satisfied with a job well done.

14. Appreciates the beauty of nature. I have, in recent years, discovered a deep love for the glory of creation (because it so perfectly reflects our Creator) and I am glad Joel shares that with me.

15. Doesn't baby me. I am glad that he wants the best for me, and in that regard he works with me, instead of doing everything for me. It has helped me to grow as a person.

16. Encourages me to try new things. I am a 'fraidy cat when it comes to the unknown, but I am learning that it can be exciting.

17. Isn't an anxious person. I need that to counter-balance my own neuroticisms.

18. Likes hanging out with me. Quality time is my love language, so I am glad for this!

19. Is a good sport. About crazy photo shoots, blog obsessions, crafting messes, party planning...should I go on?

20. Puts our family first. He is willing to sacrifice to be with us, and I appreciate that.

21. Helps around the house. He doesn't do dishes, but he is willing to do a lot of other chores.

22. Is kind. He may seem gruff, but he is really has a tender heart where it counts.

23. Is patient. I know, I have tested it often. :)

24. Is responsible. With bills, with possessions, with our family. He can be trusted, and I am so thankful for that.

25. Holds me accountable. He doesn't let me rampage without reminding me that often I had a hand in the craziness. I need that.

26. Really loves me. He doesn't give perfection, but he doesn't demand it, either. He would give his life for me, and I know that he works to show me in many ways each day.

27. Loves Jesus. He does, and while he may not always shout it from the rooftops, he lives it in his life.

     I love that listing many things each day has given me the opportunity to express gratitude for more than just surface things. What is something, or someone, that you are thankful about many things, not just one?

 

To My Honey on Our 12th Anniversary

Always a good time, even if its just $3 pita date night.

Dear Joel,
     I probably wouldn't be writing this, I haven't in the past, except for the fact that we find ourselves once again apart on the anniversary of the day that we vowed to stay together forever. Thankfully, our separation is geographic rather than emotional or legal! I do hate to be away from you any time of the year, but it is especially a bummer when we should be celebrating our togetherness. The beauty of being an adult though, is the ability to postpone festivities to a day that is more conducive, rather than being governed by the calendar, but I still hate to let the day pass without notice.

    Twelve may not seem like an "important" number-not like 10 or 25 or 50. But the fact of the matter is, you can't get to the "important" ones without those that are "less" significant. Which in my mind means one thing: they are all pretty darn equal. Twelve is no more or less special than any other number. We have already surpassed many others that we know!

    Every year I can't help but remember our first anniversary. We were so young, and we didn't have any really marvelous ideas for making it special. Neither one of us had great jobs, and we didn't have any time off, so we decided to keep it relatively low-key and celebrate by going to the St. Louis Art Museum (we lived in southern Illinois at the time, so it was close by) and then to the much-anticipated Cheesecake Factory for dinner. That was high living for us at the time in the budget department, wasn't it?

   We arrived to the crazy parking situation in Forest Park. Wasn't it always such a pain to find anything decent? We were excited to find a spot that wasn't two miles away, and we pulled in quickly. We headed up to the museum and poked around, I don't really remember that what we saw, it was what happened after that I won't forget. We came out to our good-but-not-fantastic spot to find a *parking ticket*! We had inadvertently parked too close to a fire hydrant-we weren't in front of it, but we weren't the specified number of feet away, either. I was so mad! You know how much I hate that kind of thing, it always feels personal, even though it isn't.

    A parking ticket isn't the steepest of traffic fines, but that one was higher than the usual because we were "blocking" the hydrant. I think it was $75 and that was not the way we had wanted to spend money on our anniversary! We tried to shake off our frustration-we joked about mailing pennies in for the fine, and decided to not let it ruin our day. We headed to the big fancy mall to do some window shopping (We agreed that our "stupid tax" was enough big spending for the day.) before dinner.

   That was when I got a call that was not what we were expecting. We had anticipated, based on information from our friends, a higher than usual tax return, and in our excitement we counted our chickens before they hatched. We decided to spend the money before the return had even been calculated and buy a brand new desktop computer. We spent close to $1000, on credit, with the plan to pay it off once we had our money from Uncle Sam.

    What does that have to do with our anniversary? Well, the call was about our return. It had been calculated and was far less than we were counting on. It was $100. I just remember standing in the middle of Penney's, wondering how to tell you, knowing that it would pretty much ruin the day. We would both feel guilty for spending money we didn't have, and wonder where we would conjure up the funds to meet our new money bill. Not to mention that we both knew we would pay a hefty fee in interest.

   You handled it the way you handle most every challenge, and I know that it made me fall even more in love with you than I had been before. You just said we needed not to worry about it-we would figure it out. You didn't try to blame me, and you didn't get angry. YOu said we should just try to enjoy our day and leave the problem solving for later.

   But as we headed to dinner we both knew that we would feel terrible about spending $50-$60 more on food after the ticket and the "reduced" refund. So we agreed to eat in the food court-you had Chinese, and I can't remember what I had, but the part that sealed the deal on making the day a sweet memory was that after dinner you walked all the way back to the Cheesecake Factory and brought back a piece of my favorite cheesecake for us to share. You didn't want me to be disappointed anymore, after it seemed that the day was just going to keep downhill. And I cried into that cheesecake, not because the day had been nothing like I had hoped, but because your simple gesture humbled me so intensely.

    And now, the memory of that day has lost all its sting, and it is just sweet. We did survive, and we learned so much, but the most important part of that day was that we had each other. We didn't need fancy dinners, or a huge celebration, or tons of money (good thing!). We could overcome and still find joy in the small things because we were together. And that first anniversary has set the stage for our whole marriage. It's never been about perfection, but we have made so many wonderful memories already because we know that things are just that-things. You really can't buy love, or joy, or contentment.

   I'm so thankful that the Lord gave that day to us. I'm so thankful that I learned early on that Hollywood romances are not what real love looks like. It looks like a little piece of cheesecake after a day of disappointments, from someone who cares so much more about your happiness than his own. We learned to not take for granted that being with each other is what matters.

    And we don't. If I have to say one thing about us, it is this: we truly appreciate each day we have together. Because some anniversaries have been spent at nice restaurants, while others were spent in shoddy motel rooms while waiting for a house after a stressful move when celebration meant a dozen gas station roses in a Big Gulp cup. And some have been spent on a cruise in Mexico seven months after the actual date because thousands of miles and a war separated us. And some have been spent with our kids, and some alone, but they have all been sweet because they were a celebration not of the number of years, but the millions of in-and-out, morning and night beautiful "boringness" of sharing, truly sharing, our lives together. The mundaneness of thousands of breakfasts, of grocery shopping and potty-training. Of car maintenance and church-going. Of every day "I love you"s and goodbye kisses.

    And so, I don't really care that today is our anniversary. I love to remember our wedding, but it isn't the 22nd of February that is important. I want to be with you whether it is the 22nd of February or the 31st of August, or the second Tuesday in May. I want to wake up to you every morning, and go to bed with you every night. I want to do exciting things with you, and boring things. I want to pay bills, and buy shoes, and yell at the kids and make dinner. I miss you because you are my most favorite person in the world, and there isn't a single day that goes by that I don't thank the Lord that He allowed me the joy of being your wife. So, today I miss you, but that is just because I'm not with you, not because of the date on the calendar. And today is special, not because it is our anniversary, but because every day that we are allowed to go on, two as one, is special.

"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God." 1 John 4:7

   I know God's love better because of you. I couldn't ask for anything more. I'm thankful for the twelve years of days I have had with you, and I am praying that He will graciously grant us many, many more. I love you. 
                                                                                                        Love, 
                                                                                                              Me

Valentine's Day Vendetta

I have a vendetta against Valentine's Day. It seems that it is another one of those holidays that promises more than it delivers. It makes love seem like it is about chocolate, flowers and skanky lingerie. It preys on vulnerable people, forcing it to be about "feelings" and "things" rather than a true commitment to True Love. I capitalize that because those poor words are so tortured in our everyday lingo that they have practically lost their meaning. I am talking about Love like how God treats me, not fluttery, butterflies-in-my-stomach, feelings. That is illness, not Love... True romantic Love, unlike the boy-meets-girl-so-they-can-have-casual-sex "love" portrayed widely by the media, is a covenant commitment, witnessed and sanctified by Love Himself. It is only found in marriage and can't truly be experienced before then.

I don't have the perfect marriage. There is no way that I can, because I am not perfect. My life lately seems to be filled with people who can't make a go of it-I am crying right now over the crumbling covenants around me. I don't often post things that are too heavy, that is not so much fun. But with Valentine's Day around the corner I can't help but wonder what happens to these people. I doubt anyone wakes up in the morning and decides, "I don't really feel like being married anymore, I think I will start the proceedings for a messy, heart-breaking divorce, disappoint everyone around me and generally change my life forever." No, but I also firmly believe that you can't "fall out" of love any more than you can "fall into" it.

Every day, Joel chooses to love me (not so easy, trust me, you know if you have read my blog at all!) and every day, I choose to love him. Notice, I did not say that I choose to love him back. My love for him cannot be any more dependent on his love for me than vice versa. I have to willingly serve, submit, pray for, comfort, support and love him no matter what he does for me. That is what I am called to do by the Lord, and I hope that I can do that until I die. It isn't easy, but nothing worth having comes easily. Every day, Joel is my "heavenly sandpaper", helping to perfect me to glorify my King.

I did not really appreciate how sacred marriage is until I started reading about covenants. My marriage is a sacrifice of myself before the Lord, He promises to be everything, and I promise to give everything. I am not worthy, of Joel, or the Lord. But as I pray and fight against the dissolution of marriages around me, I know that the Lord has allowed these things to show me that I have to be on alert every day to guard against the forces of evil working against my marriage. The greatest one being my own selfish, human nature. I don't want a perfect marriage, but I want one that will last.I KNOW that I can have a triumphant marriage-a true, forever covenant,-if I remember that it isn't about me, it is about Him. That will make for a pretty happy Hearts Day...