There was a point when these experiences felt like life or death. There was a moment when I was standing outside of a fast food joint begging one of my closest friends, one of my deepest confidants, for you to come home safely from war... for me to not have to endure any more of these farewells and unknowns.
The picture is stamped in my brain. All of us at an airport, watching you walk through a gate and getting on an airplane. The images of our four children disintegrating at the seams. Our son, trying so hard to swallow it all down, while simultaneously reeling from the impact of the trauma. He pushed me away, because my comfort meant he had to accept something he was unwilling to accept. Our youngest child hysterical. Sobbing so hard she could hardly breathe. She tried to make herself small, until I hugged her from behind, then she jumped in to my arms. I swear it was as if she let go she'd evaporate into thin air. One by one, our daughters clutched to me. And when our son lost the battle against his overwhelming need for comfort, he too succumbed to my affection at that terminal. Somehow my arms managed to hold all five of us together at that window.
It was at once instantaneously familiar and foreign. This was the first time that the finality of the moment was not solely mine, the two of us in a gym... This was the first time where we all experienced it together. I found in me a new moment of resolve for the time being. I stopped weeping. It stopped being about me, about us. It was entirely about them in that place.
The flight attendants, and airport personnel were beautifully merciful. They waited so patiently for your plane to take off because our children wanted to see it, and watch it through their tears. They didn't rush us or ask us to move along. They stood off to the side and allowed us the privacy of our grief. I thanked them on our way out. A gentle heart said It's okay. We see this often. We understand. You were welcome to take your time. Sweet mercy. I wanted more time. I think it's what we always want in some capacity. More time together, less time apart, more time to laugh, to love, to cuddle...
Jesus help me get through this. Just help me.
All five of us held hands all the way to our car. We opened the doors got in and I turned on the engine. I was distracted with finding the ticket to get out of the parking garage, and the business of getting everyone buckled and safe. I started to drive and then I couldn't breathe. The gate wouldn't come up, almost as if it sensed that I needed a moment. I sobbed. Behind my oversized shades and behind my blaringly loud music I sobbed. Damn you for leaving me with an empty seat in our car.
For the first time in the history of us, there was no talking in our car. All of us cried. All of us listened to the music. Our family tradition of theme songs for every single time you leave. Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the waters. Wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander. And my faith will be made stronger. In the presence of my Savior. I am Yours... and You are mine...
It's been a lot of weeks now. Everyone's lives are sort of just... going on. And I suppose to some degree, ours are too. I think there's so much to the truth that probably the vast majority of things that happen in my life, I will never fully understand. I think it's true that I have always wanted ten million things, and I never really believed that God gave a damn about them..
I desperately wanted you not to go. I hated Him for not hearing my calls, pleas, and begging. He betrayed me. It was both impossible to forget and completely life altering. I think it's difficult to describe it, if you haven't walked it. But to wrestle with God... is not something one walks away from unscathed, unchanged, and unaltered. I will never be the same. The straw that broke the camel's back...
But loyalty carries us in those moments. Loyalty helps us to hold on to something when all seems dark. Through my brokenness, I said that I wouldn't walk away, and I didn't. Love isn't easy. Loving God is not easy. And truth be told, I believe that anyone who says otherwise has never really walked through the fires of the shadow of death. They haven't felt evil. They haven't felt betrayal or loss or abandonment. They haven't felt the wounds of destruction. And I envy them. I envy their naivete. Wisdom sucks. Why? Because it grows through experience, and it sucks to experience sucky things.
Out of the ashes, beauty will rise. Never a truer statement. Loving God... that's at the core of me. It's messy, and complicated, and crazy as all get out. And I find, nearly every day, that I don't even begin to scratch the surface of understanding what that even means in my self, but freak-an-A, it's the truth of all that I am and I'm still learning. Learning about what needs really are, and how many wants have been dished out to me, many of which I never really thought of at the time.
I wanted you to come home to me, from that war. I stood in a parking lot begging my best friend to make sure you came home. I stood there pleading and wrestling and finally relenting. I was terrified. And you did. Much sooner than anyone could have anticipated. A want fulfilled, in ways I couldn't have fathomed at the time. I wanted war not to win. And it didn't.
I'm sitting here, finding our groove, getting into the every day paces of life without you. Getting used to the empty pillow, and the hollow spot in our bed. I've stopped noticing the empty toothbrush holder, and the missing hairs in the sink. I've stopped listening for the garage door opening at the end of the day, and for your sound emanating through the house. I've stopped looking for you all around me. Soon enough, those things will return, and loyalty won't allow me to forget. It will etch the hurt of the aching for you on my brain, and that will carry us through thousands of sweet cuddle filled days. It will drive the desire to never take you for granted. Our moments together are more beautiful than a thousand forests, more sweet than honey.
And that's the greatest want of all that was granted. Or maybe it's the greatest need, that I never knew existed. I wanted love, and spent a lifetime fearing I would never get it. Maybe the truth is that I've got needs and wants all confused and backwards. Because I need you. Not to fall asleep next to. Not to have your hairs in my sink. I need you to hold me up when I'm falling down. I need you to boss me and put me back in line, when I'm too angry or stubborn to do the right thing. I need you to love me like only you can love me. I need you to pick me up when I'm crumbled up on our kitchen floor broken hearted and screaming at the top of my lungs about how much it hurts and how tired I am. I need you because you're the only person who grasps how truly fragile and strong and complicated I am.
And that's the most beautiful gift of God's love and mercy in my life. Because he crafted you, knowing all of this about me. He crafted you and molded you and shaped you. He allowed you to walk through ten thousand life shattering experiences, so that you would be molded to handle mine. And He did the same for me. He walked me through ten thousand life shattering experiences, so that I would be molded and crafted to love you in this crazy way that I do. That is His divine mercy. Two utterly broken individuals, molded together as one. The sheer magnitude of that is astounding. The trickiest part is to never lose sight of it. When I'm wrestling with Him because you had to go away again... when I'm begging and pleading and drained and exhausted because I hate war and I HATE how much it hurts me over and over again and how it takes so many moments away from us, this is what I must remember: we are still being molded and shaped. That Creator who began a good work in us from our conception, who allowed us to walk through so many hurts to bring us together, has not stopped molding us for what is to come. And those things to come will be glorious.
We are His. And He is ours.
I'll be seeing you.
Me
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