It has been a hard night. This evening I have felt ugly. I'm not talking ugly in the physical sense, I'm talking ugly in the emotional sense. I have just FELT ugly. I haven't felt loving, or silly, or kind. Instead I've felt withdrawn and irritable, and annoyed: ugly. I guess I'd have to say my level of emotional ugliness started with the dog. She peed. On the floor. Also pooped. Twice. For NO reason. She's not sick. She had just come in from outside on both occasions. I think she simply just felt like upsetting me. Now, now. Don't shake your head at me and say that dogs aren't like that. You simply do not know this dog. She has an attitude bigger than I have ever imagined. Heaven forbid you should put her in her dog crate. If you do, she will make you pay. She's just that way.
After what I can only irritatingly call foofee gate, my children ALL peed in their clothes, on the floor, knocked their toddler potties full of fresh waste on the floor, spilled my milk on the couch, and made mess after mess after mess. I know that they're kids and that accidents happen. I wasn't angry at them. I was angry with the situation. I could feel my blood pressure starting to rise with each "incident" until I finally said to the kids: "Kids. I need you to go to your room. I am upset. I will come and get you when I calm down." So off they went. To be honest, at the time I didn't notice how nice it was that they actually complied. I was too upset to notice they did what I asked without an argument. Only now that I am writing this do I see how sweet that gift was.
As the night wore on, I found myself counting down the minutes until bedtime. I hate when I do that. I hate hearing those mothers whine and complain about their children. It seriously gets under my skin. I'm not naive, kids get on nerves. It just happens. But there are those mothers who constantly go on and on about how annoying their kids are, and how much they can't wait for their kids to go to bed, or whatever else they dislike. My perspective is this: you decided to have them, so get over it! I normally am not counting down for the kids to go to bed. I love being with my children. They have ways of making me laugh in almost all circumstances. I am so thankful to God for them. But today, I just wanted to be alone. Now as I sit here, they're all in bed, and I'm missing them. I didn't enjoy them tonight. They laughed and giggled and danced and sang, and I did not participate because I was feeling ugly. Those are moments that I can never repeat, and never bring back. They're gone, and I chose not to appreciate them.
I guess my point is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't engage, didn't participate, didn't dance and laugh and sing and giggle. Even ONE night of not doing those things is important. My children know that I love them, and of course they were taken care of tonight. My heart just wasn't in the good stuff. I am sorry that I wasted my night wanting what I couldn't have: my husband here. I am sorry that instead of enjoying the gift our children, I curled up on the couch. I am thankful that tomorrow I get another chance to enjoy them. I am glad that I get another day of silliness and laughing with them.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
food
Recently I was in the Emergency room for what I can only call one of the worst bouts of pain I have ever had in my life. Of course, it is entirely possible that I am just trying to be dramatic on here. I will say, however, that the intensity level was so severe that I called 911 for fear that I was dying. Yes folks... it was THAT bad. So after several hours sitting in an ER where the only thing they did was draw my blood, and the pain going away, then starting to come back again, I was sent home.
I probably should've prefaced the whole story by saying that when I was pregnant with my first child, I was diagnosed with an ulcer. However, I overlooked the necessity for giving that information until now, and I am including it here. I will tell you though, this pain was nothing on the level of that situation. First of all, with my ulcer, I didn't really have stomach aches, I just threw up. A LOT. No food was interested in staying in my body. It was only when I started throwing up large amounts of blood that the realized it wasn't baby nausea, but was rather something serious. They treated the ulcer, and I have been on Nexium ever since (it's a delightful drug).
I came home from my ER adventure with a determined mind. I was going to try to fix my stomach issues with my food. I did research and started putting my focus back on to my fabulous "ulcer" diet: bland. No fat, no fiber, and NO whole grains. That's right...I said NO whole grains. Pick your jaw up off the floor, but here's a little tidbit most people don't know about whole grains: your stomach hates them. Whole grains require much more work to digest, so if you are having stomach issues (gall stones, ulcers, gastritis) it's useful to get rid of them. To be honest, it's useful to not eat much bread of any sort with stomach issues, but if you absolutely MUST eat something, word on the street is that you should eat WHITE bread.
So I have obeyed the storyline passionately. I have been eating for the most part, only boiled chicken (little bit of salt), salad, fresh fruit (but no berries, and obviously no citrus fruits), non fat yogurt (the trick is finding a kind you like, especially since I have NEVER cared for the stuff), and low fat cottage cheese (I just couldn't bring myself to stomach the non fat. Don't judge me). So far, I have been able to sustain this diet for a couple of weeks. Wait for it...if you're bored by this whole diet talk just wait...here comes the kicker. I have NEVER felt better than I've been feeling lately. I have more energy, my mind feels clearer, and I don't feel so depressed and bogged down. Something else that has surprised me is that I also actually ENJOY the food. My wonderful friend wrote in her blog that in order to start to like certain foods, sometimes we have to train ourselves to like them. I have always enjoyed my vegetables, but I've always "enjoyed" them with oodles of butter or salt or pepper. I had never really cared for them in their good old fashioned, just plucked from the earth, sort of way. But now I LOVE them! I crave salads all the time. There is nothing like eating a rainbow salad. It just tastes good. And I will also say that it certainly doesn't hurt that I've lost four pounds this week.
I have no idea how long I will be able to maintain this type of eating. Hopefully forever. I have tired of having constant stomach aches and the problems that go along with them. And in the last two weeks, I haven't had a single one of them. It's been nice. Maybe I have finally kissed stomach pains goodbye. We shall have to see!
I probably should've prefaced the whole story by saying that when I was pregnant with my first child, I was diagnosed with an ulcer. However, I overlooked the necessity for giving that information until now, and I am including it here. I will tell you though, this pain was nothing on the level of that situation. First of all, with my ulcer, I didn't really have stomach aches, I just threw up. A LOT. No food was interested in staying in my body. It was only when I started throwing up large amounts of blood that the realized it wasn't baby nausea, but was rather something serious. They treated the ulcer, and I have been on Nexium ever since (it's a delightful drug).
I came home from my ER adventure with a determined mind. I was going to try to fix my stomach issues with my food. I did research and started putting my focus back on to my fabulous "ulcer" diet: bland. No fat, no fiber, and NO whole grains. That's right...I said NO whole grains. Pick your jaw up off the floor, but here's a little tidbit most people don't know about whole grains: your stomach hates them. Whole grains require much more work to digest, so if you are having stomach issues (gall stones, ulcers, gastritis) it's useful to get rid of them. To be honest, it's useful to not eat much bread of any sort with stomach issues, but if you absolutely MUST eat something, word on the street is that you should eat WHITE bread.
So I have obeyed the storyline passionately. I have been eating for the most part, only boiled chicken (little bit of salt), salad, fresh fruit (but no berries, and obviously no citrus fruits), non fat yogurt (the trick is finding a kind you like, especially since I have NEVER cared for the stuff), and low fat cottage cheese (I just couldn't bring myself to stomach the non fat. Don't judge me). So far, I have been able to sustain this diet for a couple of weeks. Wait for it...if you're bored by this whole diet talk just wait...here comes the kicker. I have NEVER felt better than I've been feeling lately. I have more energy, my mind feels clearer, and I don't feel so depressed and bogged down. Something else that has surprised me is that I also actually ENJOY the food. My wonderful friend wrote in her blog that in order to start to like certain foods, sometimes we have to train ourselves to like them. I have always enjoyed my vegetables, but I've always "enjoyed" them with oodles of butter or salt or pepper. I had never really cared for them in their good old fashioned, just plucked from the earth, sort of way. But now I LOVE them! I crave salads all the time. There is nothing like eating a rainbow salad. It just tastes good. And I will also say that it certainly doesn't hurt that I've lost four pounds this week.
I have no idea how long I will be able to maintain this type of eating. Hopefully forever. I have tired of having constant stomach aches and the problems that go along with them. And in the last two weeks, I haven't had a single one of them. It's been nice. Maybe I have finally kissed stomach pains goodbye. We shall have to see!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
February
I love February! There are many reasons why I happen to like the month (it's still winter, love is in the air, it's a short month, etc etc), but my most favorite reason why I love February is my four beautiful children. Five years ago, I was freaking out, panicking about whether or not my unborn baby was going to be early. My husband was deployed and I was all alone in a city with no family. I was paranoid that my daughter would be born with no one in the room but me. I was having anxiety that she would come on a weekend where some other doctor than MY doctor would deliver her. I was terrified that she would come during this week when my OBGYN typically goes on his family ski trip. I was terrified she would come before my husband's R and R. I was just nervous as a whole. Of course, it turned out to be fine: My mom, and my friend Kenna, and my husband were all there while my daughter was delivered by MY OBGYN....but still...the fears were there.
This time three years ago, I was exhausted beyond measure. My body hurt horrifically. I was broken under the weight of three beautiful children. I was tired of not sleeping, barely being able to eat, struggling to move, to do anything... I was tired of being on strict bed rest. I was tired of not being able to get up and go somewhere if I wanted to. I was tired of being taken care of. But then, on the flip side, I wanted my babies to be healthy and strong. I wanted them to keep growing and stay in as long as possible. But I have to admit...I was done being pregnant by this point.
It's amazing what time will do. When I was getting ready to deliver my oldest, never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that only two years later, I would give birth to three babies at once! I never could've imagined we'd all live where we live, and being doing good! I never would've believed that I would've been able to handle being alone with four toddlers for a year. I never would've been able to picture surviving hospitalizations, and endless sicknesses and horrible viruses, and near death situations with one (or more) of my four children...without my husband.
Don't get me wrong, I have NOT been alone. This deployment started out as being alone. But then I came to know the wonderful women that I call my sisterhood. When I think about the ways that they have stood by me, uplifted me, encouraged me, laughed with me, listened to my venting tirades, and been compassionate...it literally drives me to tears. I have been blessed beyond measure by them in my life. I say sisterhood, because we are all in similar situations together. We are all believers in Christ and striving to love Him more and more, and we are all Army wives (with the exception of a few what-I-like-to-call honorary army wives). We know what it means to be alone, and yet not. We know what it means to fight against what we lovingly call the "fort Bliss 'man'". We know how to cut through red tape, get answers, fight for our marriages, defend our children, and keep the home fires burning, while our husbands are at war.
Now, SO many women try to say, "Well, I know what it's like because my husband was in the air force or my husband is a marine" etc etc etc. And I have to honestly say, NO you don't. I wish with all my heart that you could understand. Your situation is different. The army is a beautiful institution which I love dearly, however, it has a tendency to leave you fending for yourself. It doesn't have the camaraderie that the air force or the marines have. Also, no matter HOW you spin it...six months is NOT the same as a year. It's just not. Six months is difficult, but it's not the same. Neither is eight months, or nine months. They are NOT the same. It's an entirely different ballgame when your husband has been gone for thirteen, fourteen, fifteen months. I'm not saying that any organizations sacrifices are more or less difficult. I'm just saying, they're different.
So when you have Army Wife friends...it's unique. It's beautiful and it's comforting. It's uplifting just to sit together, even if you don't necessarily have anything to say. It's wonderful to pray with each other, and to laugh together.
Somehow I got off track about why I love February. I was distracted by the gratitude I have for my children and my friends. :)
I will say however, the main reason I'm loving February is that it's one month closer to my husband coming home from his deployment. And that, my dear friends is pretty darn nice! :)
This time three years ago, I was exhausted beyond measure. My body hurt horrifically. I was broken under the weight of three beautiful children. I was tired of not sleeping, barely being able to eat, struggling to move, to do anything... I was tired of being on strict bed rest. I was tired of not being able to get up and go somewhere if I wanted to. I was tired of being taken care of. But then, on the flip side, I wanted my babies to be healthy and strong. I wanted them to keep growing and stay in as long as possible. But I have to admit...I was done being pregnant by this point.
It's amazing what time will do. When I was getting ready to deliver my oldest, never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that only two years later, I would give birth to three babies at once! I never could've imagined we'd all live where we live, and being doing good! I never would've believed that I would've been able to handle being alone with four toddlers for a year. I never would've been able to picture surviving hospitalizations, and endless sicknesses and horrible viruses, and near death situations with one (or more) of my four children...without my husband.
Don't get me wrong, I have NOT been alone. This deployment started out as being alone. But then I came to know the wonderful women that I call my sisterhood. When I think about the ways that they have stood by me, uplifted me, encouraged me, laughed with me, listened to my venting tirades, and been compassionate...it literally drives me to tears. I have been blessed beyond measure by them in my life. I say sisterhood, because we are all in similar situations together. We are all believers in Christ and striving to love Him more and more, and we are all Army wives (with the exception of a few what-I-like-to-call honorary army wives). We know what it means to be alone, and yet not. We know what it means to fight against what we lovingly call the "fort Bliss 'man'". We know how to cut through red tape, get answers, fight for our marriages, defend our children, and keep the home fires burning, while our husbands are at war.
Now, SO many women try to say, "Well, I know what it's like because my husband was in the air force or my husband is a marine" etc etc etc. And I have to honestly say, NO you don't. I wish with all my heart that you could understand. Your situation is different. The army is a beautiful institution which I love dearly, however, it has a tendency to leave you fending for yourself. It doesn't have the camaraderie that the air force or the marines have. Also, no matter HOW you spin it...six months is NOT the same as a year. It's just not. Six months is difficult, but it's not the same. Neither is eight months, or nine months. They are NOT the same. It's an entirely different ballgame when your husband has been gone for thirteen, fourteen, fifteen months. I'm not saying that any organizations sacrifices are more or less difficult. I'm just saying, they're different.
So when you have Army Wife friends...it's unique. It's beautiful and it's comforting. It's uplifting just to sit together, even if you don't necessarily have anything to say. It's wonderful to pray with each other, and to laugh together.
Somehow I got off track about why I love February. I was distracted by the gratitude I have for my children and my friends. :)
I will say however, the main reason I'm loving February is that it's one month closer to my husband coming home from his deployment. And that, my dear friends is pretty darn nice! :)
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
laugh
When your husband deploys it is extremely easy to forget to laugh. Tonight, a wonderful friend of mine had me laughing so hard that tears were pouring out of my eyes. I can't remember the last time that I spent an hour just laughing at the silly things in life. My life reminder of the day is this: LAUGH! Find anything on this planet that will crack you up and then go at it. We all need to remember it's good to giggle. It rejuvenates the soul. :)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
My hands are wrinkly. It seems no matter how much lotion I put on them, or how gentle of a soap I use...they are still wrinkly. And getting more so with age.
I have stretch marks. I mean, I HAVE stretch marks. These stretch marks are so vivid, and so present that my belly literally looks like a road map, or like tiger claws going down my entire torso...these are the gifts from my four beautiful children. I lotioned and lotioned when I was pregnant, and they still came. They are only some of my permanent scars from childbearing.
I hate shaving my legs, but I love having shaved legs. For me, personally, it's the whole process of having to shave. It's an inconvenience that I am expected to keep my hairs from existing on my legs. I also hate getting waxed. Who seriously wakes up in the morning and goes, "YES! I get to get waxed today!"? If a person exists that is like that, please introduce her to me...
I have "back fat." And I can't blame it on the bra. It's there even when I'm naked. It's my current theory that it's part of the whole triplet pregnancy, sagging skin stuff, but I'm not exactly sure. No matter how many crunches, squats, or exercises I do...the skin still hangs.
My stomach hates me. That statement might seem a little dramatic, but I am completely convinced that it wants to kill me. I can hardly put anything in to it without it causing me vast amounts of pain. Or maybe, it's trying to save my life, by forbidding me from eating anything with fat, grease, or dairy. Maybe it's trying to literally prevent me from killing myself with junk food. Maybe my stomach, is trying to make me lose weight.
I LOVE crunchy food. I could easily sit down and eat an entire bag of Doritos with no problem. It's not so much the taste, but the crunch that I enjoy. Toast gives me equal amounts of pleasure. And no matter how many Weight Watchers meetings, or Jenny Craig consultant conversations occur...I will NEVER buy in to the notion that eating celery sticks, or carrot sticks, or popcorn can satisfy my need for that crunch. They simply do not fit the bill. However, due to the graciousness of my angry stomach, I no longer get to enjoy those chips.
Working out makes me tired. It makes me so tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open when I'm finished. It always makes me laugh to read that working out gives you energy. I promise you, every single time, I am ready for a nap when I've finished working out. It does, however, make my days much more productive. It makes my mind feel sharper and more alert. But so does eating nothing but boiled chicken and raw vegetables (this seriously has worked wonders on my brain clarity).
I am lazy to a fault. It's strange how a person can be lazy, and bored at the same time. In theory, the notion of boredom should push someone beyond their laziness and in to the act of productivity. This doesn't usually happen with me. I find myself desiring less and less stuff to do, especially as more and more things need to happen.
I love my husband being in the military. I love hearing him put his dog tags around his neck. I love watching him lace up his boots. I love hearing him attach his patches to his ACU top. I love that it keeps him physically fit. I love that it's a stable, reliable job with benefits. I wish it didn't take him away from me as much as it does...but...as I get older, I am more able to recognize that there's beauty in the distance, and that the times apart really do make our relationship stronger, and our love deeper.
Every night before I go to sleep, I lay in bed and imagine that my husband is holding me. It happens every night whether I am intentionally thinking of him or not. And every single night, my heart aches, and my body physically longs to feel his presence next to me. I never knew what it meant to physically long for someone. It was always an abstract thought in my mind. I now know what it feels like. I can tell you that it sucks.
I am so sick of diets. I think it would be absolutely wonderful if we could banish all fast food restaurants and junk food. I feel this way mostly because I know that those foods make my body feel terrible, but the temptation of them is awful. Tonight I sat in my car eating a home made salad, while my daughter ate chicken nuggets and french fries (her request on our special mom and daughter night). It took quite a bit of strength to not lean over and steal a fry...
I love cooking. I love the smell of the food that my mind creates. I never use recipes. I'm just not really into them. I think it is much more fun to let my mouth create and blend spices and sauces and flavors and textures, and then see if it ended up being something good in the end. I love that my husband adores the food that I make. I love that he misses it when he's away. I love the excitement in my children's voices when they know I am cooking them dinner. They don't always eat what's prepared, but they feel so happy that I've cooked them something.
I used to think I would be something completely different than who I am. I used to believe that the value in life was in status symbols: degree, husband, house, job, car, etc etc. I now believe that almost all of those things are literally meaningless. I could care less if someone thinks I'm wise, or pretty, or rich, or classy. My life's purpose is not to fulfill someone else's opinion of who I should be. Nor is it to fill some status quo of who I think I should be. Truthfully, my heart's desire is just to be a lover. I want to love with a depth and a passion that the world hasn't seen in ages. I want to love Christ, love my husband, my children, my neighbors, my family, my peers, fellow citizens, and fellow humans deeply. I want to love until my heart gives out. And it doesn't necessarily matter to me if anyone credits me for this. I want to do it, not so that people will think greatly of me, but simply because it's needed. People need to feel love without judgment. There's so little of that nowadays...
I have stretch marks. I mean, I HAVE stretch marks. These stretch marks are so vivid, and so present that my belly literally looks like a road map, or like tiger claws going down my entire torso...these are the gifts from my four beautiful children. I lotioned and lotioned when I was pregnant, and they still came. They are only some of my permanent scars from childbearing.
I hate shaving my legs, but I love having shaved legs. For me, personally, it's the whole process of having to shave. It's an inconvenience that I am expected to keep my hairs from existing on my legs. I also hate getting waxed. Who seriously wakes up in the morning and goes, "YES! I get to get waxed today!"? If a person exists that is like that, please introduce her to me...
I have "back fat." And I can't blame it on the bra. It's there even when I'm naked. It's my current theory that it's part of the whole triplet pregnancy, sagging skin stuff, but I'm not exactly sure. No matter how many crunches, squats, or exercises I do...the skin still hangs.
My stomach hates me. That statement might seem a little dramatic, but I am completely convinced that it wants to kill me. I can hardly put anything in to it without it causing me vast amounts of pain. Or maybe, it's trying to save my life, by forbidding me from eating anything with fat, grease, or dairy. Maybe it's trying to literally prevent me from killing myself with junk food. Maybe my stomach, is trying to make me lose weight.
I LOVE crunchy food. I could easily sit down and eat an entire bag of Doritos with no problem. It's not so much the taste, but the crunch that I enjoy. Toast gives me equal amounts of pleasure. And no matter how many Weight Watchers meetings, or Jenny Craig consultant conversations occur...I will NEVER buy in to the notion that eating celery sticks, or carrot sticks, or popcorn can satisfy my need for that crunch. They simply do not fit the bill. However, due to the graciousness of my angry stomach, I no longer get to enjoy those chips.
Working out makes me tired. It makes me so tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open when I'm finished. It always makes me laugh to read that working out gives you energy. I promise you, every single time, I am ready for a nap when I've finished working out. It does, however, make my days much more productive. It makes my mind feel sharper and more alert. But so does eating nothing but boiled chicken and raw vegetables (this seriously has worked wonders on my brain clarity).
I am lazy to a fault. It's strange how a person can be lazy, and bored at the same time. In theory, the notion of boredom should push someone beyond their laziness and in to the act of productivity. This doesn't usually happen with me. I find myself desiring less and less stuff to do, especially as more and more things need to happen.
I love my husband being in the military. I love hearing him put his dog tags around his neck. I love watching him lace up his boots. I love hearing him attach his patches to his ACU top. I love that it keeps him physically fit. I love that it's a stable, reliable job with benefits. I wish it didn't take him away from me as much as it does...but...as I get older, I am more able to recognize that there's beauty in the distance, and that the times apart really do make our relationship stronger, and our love deeper.
Every night before I go to sleep, I lay in bed and imagine that my husband is holding me. It happens every night whether I am intentionally thinking of him or not. And every single night, my heart aches, and my body physically longs to feel his presence next to me. I never knew what it meant to physically long for someone. It was always an abstract thought in my mind. I now know what it feels like. I can tell you that it sucks.
I am so sick of diets. I think it would be absolutely wonderful if we could banish all fast food restaurants and junk food. I feel this way mostly because I know that those foods make my body feel terrible, but the temptation of them is awful. Tonight I sat in my car eating a home made salad, while my daughter ate chicken nuggets and french fries (her request on our special mom and daughter night). It took quite a bit of strength to not lean over and steal a fry...
I love cooking. I love the smell of the food that my mind creates. I never use recipes. I'm just not really into them. I think it is much more fun to let my mouth create and blend spices and sauces and flavors and textures, and then see if it ended up being something good in the end. I love that my husband adores the food that I make. I love that he misses it when he's away. I love the excitement in my children's voices when they know I am cooking them dinner. They don't always eat what's prepared, but they feel so happy that I've cooked them something.
I used to think I would be something completely different than who I am. I used to believe that the value in life was in status symbols: degree, husband, house, job, car, etc etc. I now believe that almost all of those things are literally meaningless. I could care less if someone thinks I'm wise, or pretty, or rich, or classy. My life's purpose is not to fulfill someone else's opinion of who I should be. Nor is it to fill some status quo of who I think I should be. Truthfully, my heart's desire is just to be a lover. I want to love with a depth and a passion that the world hasn't seen in ages. I want to love Christ, love my husband, my children, my neighbors, my family, my peers, fellow citizens, and fellow humans deeply. I want to love until my heart gives out. And it doesn't necessarily matter to me if anyone credits me for this. I want to do it, not so that people will think greatly of me, but simply because it's needed. People need to feel love without judgment. There's so little of that nowadays...
Friday, January 15, 2010
and so it goes...
I am sitting here in my grandfather's chair listening to my husband put the kids to bed. He is leaving to go back to Iraq. Tonight is an emotional night. These moments have been filled with laughter, and also with tears. Tonight the children will lay down to sleep with laughs and smiles and happy thoughts, and tomorrow they will wake up and he will be gone again. We have prepared them. They know that he will be gone in the morning....they know he's in the military and that he leaves to protect people... But I always wonder if they will ever feel abandoned. I have often wondered if children feel abandoned because of the things the parent left behind says, or if they feel abandoned because of the actions the parents leaving makes, of if they feel abandoned simply because the parent isn't there. Both my husband and I work very hard at assuring the children of his love. In our home, we daily pray for him, we look at pictures, watch videos, talk on the webcam, and talk about happy times with daddy. Every night I tell them how much he loves them and can't wait to be with them again. My husband works extremely hard to show them how much they mean to him. He is in no way, an absentee father. When he is home with us, he is engaged, involved, and a complete participant in every way. How will all of these deployments affect my children in the long run? My husband and I are adults...we have CHOSEN this life. Our children just sort of have had it pushed on them. Will they grow up having dysfunctional ideas about love and relationships? Will they seek out emotionally unavailable men because of some need to "replace" their father? Is it quantity of time that matters, or quality?
And so now the time has come. Our oldest child is having her story read to her and then off she will go to bed. My husband and I will do what we always do on the eve of a separation...watch the Notebook (his idea), snuggle in bed and then cry and comfort each other until we fall asleep. I will savor each second of hearing his heartbeat. I will revel in every breath and the warmth that comes off of him next to me. I will sleep peacefully, and in full comfort with his gentleness and love. And in the morning, I will rise and I will take him to the airport and I will let go of him when it's time for him to walk away. I swear to you this...only with God as my strength am I able to get in the car and come home. Only with God holding my arms and my legs am I able to let go of him and then walk away. Only through Christ will I be able to comfort my children when they cry in the morning. And only through my Lord and Savior will I have a peace that surpasses all understanding, in the midst of my heartache and sadness. It is out of selfishness that I cry. Because I would give anything to have him stay here. But it is out of obedience that he goes. And in his sense of duty, I also find mine. I will obey my God and king, by obeying my husband, and caring for our children, and carrying on. All praise and glory to Christ my king. May the days of separation go by quickly.
And so now the time has come. Our oldest child is having her story read to her and then off she will go to bed. My husband and I will do what we always do on the eve of a separation...watch the Notebook (his idea), snuggle in bed and then cry and comfort each other until we fall asleep. I will savor each second of hearing his heartbeat. I will revel in every breath and the warmth that comes off of him next to me. I will sleep peacefully, and in full comfort with his gentleness and love. And in the morning, I will rise and I will take him to the airport and I will let go of him when it's time for him to walk away. I swear to you this...only with God as my strength am I able to get in the car and come home. Only with God holding my arms and my legs am I able to let go of him and then walk away. Only through Christ will I be able to comfort my children when they cry in the morning. And only through my Lord and Savior will I have a peace that surpasses all understanding, in the midst of my heartache and sadness. It is out of selfishness that I cry. Because I would give anything to have him stay here. But it is out of obedience that he goes. And in his sense of duty, I also find mine. I will obey my God and king, by obeying my husband, and caring for our children, and carrying on. All praise and glory to Christ my king. May the days of separation go by quickly.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
disintegrating
In the last two weeks, I have been on the receiving end of several packages. My grandfather's stuff has arrived, slowly and gradually. First his chairs, his coffee cup, his rugs... And now, his stuff is mine. It's weird how these transitions occur. One minute these pieces of material items belonged to someone I held so dear in my heart...and now they sit in my living room, in my kitchen, in my cupboard. His coffee cup is faded and broken on the handle. His chairs smell like him. And I am saddened. I am heartbroken that he isn't here.
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