Seven

Marriage is a process of habitualization. It’s small actions, happening every day, until they are so engrained in you that you don’t recognize their existence at all, until they’re gone. Marriage is presented as non-habit-forming, but time and years have shown that to be a lie. I am an addict, I am HIS addict, and here I sit without him.

The Army comes with all sorts of degrees of challenges and heartaches. It has served up, on a platter, multiple instances of ripping my most prized relationship away from me, leaving me sobbing, aching, empty. It has forced me to unwrap my fingers from his, my arms from his, my sleep, my laughter, our moments from him and in its wake is a hollowness that is damned near impossible to define.

Lucky number seven came with all of its fury. It came in an unexpected manner, yet its wound is no less significant. The scars from the previous six are etched across my mind and body. My soul moves with the bumps of their presence, reminding me that nothing is permanent, everything changes, this too will one day end. Cherish every single second.

Never take the moments where they hold your hand for granted. Don’t stop celebrating that they make you coffee every morning, or wrap themselves around you when you are cold. Don’t stop being grateful that they always put the toilet seat down, or stop delighting in the way they sound just before they fall asleep. Never take for granted how much you enjoy folding their laundry and putting away their shoes for the umpteenth time. Never stop noticing how your flesh was made to perfectly mold into them, and how in that embrace you fall asleep every.single.time. Never stop falling apart in their presence, or believing them when they tell you that you are capable and strong and good. Never take a single moment for granted because it’s the habits, the every day moments, that rip you to shreds when the ghost of them is all you have to hold on to.

He is my heartbeat. Unwrapping my arms from him hurts like hell.

Again

 There are moments where silence is necessary. I have to keep my mouth shut because I know too much or it's not the appropriate time. There are decisions that are made that have lasting and permanent impacts on our family. The heart aches, so it prays. It spreads all of the gossip and the rumors and the anger and fear and sadness and angst to the only One who understands all of it and has seen it at its completion, even as it is currently ongoing.

What is happening in our world, is going to impact us all. Our nuclear entity that I wear around like a comfortable pair of old jeans, and a worn and tattered sweatshirt, is being altered. You four, alone, understand what it is to watch me let him go. You four, alone, understand what it is to have him gone. We five alone know what it is to walk this road... Hypotheticals are so much easier than realities. Aren't they? Why is it always that way?

I am afraid of what the world looks like without him in it. I understand that is true for all of us. I know that you know he is the other half of me, more clearly than any other human beings on this planet. I don't know what I look like as a human, a mother, and woman without him. Some people might say that's pathetic, but I say that's what being "all-in" looks like. There's no me without him, there's no Joneses minus him. 

It has always been my goal and intention to be honest with you. I have intentionally displayed the full range of my personality. I am scared. I'm afraid that he won't come home. I know his experience, understanding, and wisdom are what would be most beneficial to the lives entrusted to him. He's unique in his vast amount of experience in war. These are the treasures I will do my best to hold on to come what may.

May God have mercy. May He grant us strength to walk the path He has selected for us. May we be gracious, forgiving, and gentle. May our countenance be of such a manner than no one could look at us and fail to see the Savior who holds our hearts, lives, and comfort in His hands. 

Lolly

 Lolly,

I cried myself awake this morning. I know that reads dramatically, but it's the simple truth. I was asleep, and I woke up crying. I don't understand where the time as gone. I have rooted myself in every moment, prevented myself from that perspective of I can't wait for you to grow up. I have purposefully treasured every single day with you, knowing that one day I would long for them. This morning I woke up in a panic thinking about you going away to college. It's the flip side to the coin of growing up, that as a young adult I had zero concept of (to be fair, perhaps it was not something my mother ached about). The idea of you being states away, or even houses away, hurts.like.hell.

I sat there in the kitchen while you cried about the fear of it. I sat there, reassured you, reminded you of your capabilities, and I remembered how scary and difficult it was to unlatch myself from my own family and move away to school. I told you that you are brave, strong, and full of might. I told you it's okay to be scared, but that your moments will be filled with adventure, and you will make new memories. All of these things are true. You are so brave, so intelligent, so courageous. You will make yourself do what you must. I admire you.

I have treasured every single moment of being your Mommy. I loved the very early days, when you refused to sleep if it wasn't right next to me or your Daddy. I loved the nights of getting up to feed you, change you, and put you back to sleep. I loved watching you discover light, water, and books. I loved reading the same stories to you over and over again, changing them every so often just to give myself something new. I loved that despite you having every single word of those books memorized, you never minded when I did that (though you protested loudly if your Dad did. HAHA). I loved being there when you walked, laughed, talked, fed yourself, learned to use the toilet, lost your first tooth, felt your first heartbreak, made your first friend, first auditions, first challenges, firsts...

I know that in your immense sensibility, there is a strong possibility that you will go the community college route before transferring into a four-year program. I love how deeply you think about the future. I appreciate that you don't get annoyed every time I remind you to keep an open mind, and that God will provide what you need for the place He wants you to go. 

All of this, does not erase the very real emotional agony of me having to push you, encourage you, and help you to leave. The simple truth is, I don't want you to. I want you to stay here so that I can selfishly share life with you. I want to hear about all of your experiences and moments. I want to see you every single day, so that we can talk about politics and religion and current events. I want to be a part of the moments of your life: friends, romance, etc. I selfishly want to go to sleep at night knowing you're in the room next door, not worrying about whether or not some monster has assaulted you or hurt you. I don't want to walk through this first for myself: having a child move out.

There are no books or manuals or anythings that I have ever read that assist a mother in navigating this chapter. When you were placed in my soul, no one taught me how to find peace and comfort with the next chapter. No one prepares you for this moment, they just tell you that it will come and you'll miss what was. This is new territory for me. I will do my best to be strong for you. I will work hard to be encouraging. Forgive me for the mistakes I will inevitably make as this transition heads our way. Be merciful. Thank you for being such a fantastic human being so that this is such a challenge. 

I love you with all of my breath, and every one of my heart beats. 

November 24

 America,

Our wedding was nothing at all like I envisioned my wedding day would be. I was terrified to get married. Terrified. So I asked him to stay with me (calm down folks...) the night before. He woke up early and snuck out on the day of our wedding. I still remember him kissing my forehead before he grabbed his dress uniform and walked out. 

Our wedding day was probably how I would define awful. We were married in a mess of a building, by a guy we didn't know, on a day where it not only rained, but also dropped a tornado. We had no real wedding cake (a quick Walmart sheet cake), a dress I hated, no photographer, and on and on. With all of the awful components to the day, there are beautiful things that stand out to me. 

He stayed because I asked him to. There wasn't a debate about it, or an argument, or me begging him to do what I needed him to, he just did it. In that subtle, small moment, he showed me that he would always choose me if he was capable of doing so. He kissed my forehead goodbye in the morning, something he has done every single morning that he has been here to do so. 

I have written, and spoken, many times about the moment with my Dad in the foyer before walking in, but I will do so again. I was having an awful day. I was disappointed and overwhelmed and afraid. All of my sisters had walked in and it was just me and my dad. I was sitting on a bench and he looked me square in the eye and said If you don't want to do this we will walk out of here right now and NO ONE will say anything to you about it. In that single phrase, my 21 year old, scared self, had the safety of her Dad saying that no matter what, he would protect me. He and I had the bond of a lifetime, and I did not have any clue, at the time, what it must have been like for him. In that moment, he must have been recognizing that I was never going to come back. In that foyer, my Daddy was letting me go, and double checking that I was ready to do it. He knew that we would never be close by again, and every close moment would be short lived through vacations or trips or phone calls. I remember saying I want to marry him Dad. I'm just scared. He responded Well then you hold on to me darlin', and I'll get you there. I linked my shaky arm through his strength and down we went. What a gift that I get to hold that memory of my sweet father so close to my heart.

That day, we had no clue what our marriage would walk us through. We had no idea of the enormous heartaches and challenges we would face. We were just two scared young adults who knew without a shadow of a doubt, that we had to face the world together. What a treasure this marriage is to me.

Mess

 America,

Every attempt to write about him, or to talk about him, falls short. It's like trying to write a piece of music that expresses how the ocean moves against the shore. Nothing quite sums it up. 

If you come to me to support the dissolution of your marriage, you're not going to get it. I believe that marriages are made to be hard, heavy, challenging, exhausting. I believe that marriages are like trying to win a race to the top of Mount Everest. They take an astronomical amount of blood, sweat, tears, endurance, and perseverance. They take a multitude of cursing escapades, an abundance of begging God, and words of praise. Marriage is messy and hard and ugly. But it's also more beautiful than the most beautiful sunrise you've ever seen. It's more breathtaking than a full moon as it's low against planet Earth. It's more outstanding than the sight of your favorite person after a long time apart.

My marriage has been as ugly and messy as they can get. There have been more nightmares and hardships than anyone other than him understands. There have been so many screaming matches, silent treatments, and moments where all hope was lost. There were years of darkness that I didn't believe we could crawl out of. He's an asshole and a gentleman and the funniest person I've ever known. He's stubborn beyond what anyone can possibly imagine. He's also the safest place I've ever been. He's the most supportive person on the planet. He is willing to dive in, head first, with me in all of the darkest places I've been. He holds my hand and sits next to me waiting for me to be ready to climb out of the holes I sometimes find myself in. He supports the grief I feel about the struggles we navigate, and he somehow thinks I'm fantastic when most days I'm a centimeter away from being a complete and utter basket case.

There have been so many periods where we didn't like each other at all, where we felt like the Grand Canyon was between us and connection was impossible. We have walked through hell and back and there again. 

Marriage is amazing. I'm forever only his. By God's grace we're still messing it up, and building it back together again. By God's strength we're still fighting to be holding each other's hands, and wrapped around each other at night. There's no one on earth that compares to him. I'm thankful for every war we've fought, every battle we've lost, every moment we've laughed, and every second we've been together and apart. This mess is magical.

Today

 America,

He went to rush out of the minivan. I had driven home with Christmas music blaring in an attempt to feel joy but all I felt was numb to pretty much everything. His leg got caught in the door of the van and he started screaming. I started screaming too as I tried to force the door to move so I could unstick his leg. I screamed as I tried to get him free when the door would not move. I screamed as I picked up his hundred pound body to move it so that he could pull his paw out. That was the trick that worked, and he pulled his leg free. A thorough investigation of his paw (he's fine) had me on the garage floor sobbing. I couldn't stop.

I am tired, America. Tired in a way where you are numb because you just.can't.sleep. Tired like you don't want to talk because it's all so exhausting. Tired, but you have to keep moving forward, handling everything that needs handling, and getting by. Tired when he gets too quiet and you don't know what his brain is doing. Tired when you see him run into something because he sees less and less. Tired when her legs are swollen to twice their size because of a virus. Tired when one more person suggests snake oil treatments, or that the vaccine did this (it didn't) or that we're somehow delusional about what Covid has done. As if we haven't been living it every single day for almost ten months... Tired with every single test my husband is going through, because he just.can't.breathe whether awake or still or moving or anything. Tired, because Covid did this stupid shit to him and I'm over it. Tired, because I don't want to think about organic items, organic menus, broken hearts, broken lungs, broken eyes, broken brains, broken flesh, broken dogs... Tired because my piece of shit sperm donor died and I get to sit in the flesh of his torture, his evil choices, the image of his face that pops in to my head every time I think of the word loser. Tired that when things get hard, people jump ship, or they get quiet. Tired of having to fill some role of strength that I just don't feel.

Today I sat on my couch almost this entire day. I didn't do any errands, any chores, anything productive. I sat still and I allowed myself the space to feel like shit, because some times that's just what one needs to do. 

November

 America,

It's the day after Halloween. Welcome to November. I hope it brings you a heart full of gratitude and thanksgiving. 

I for one, am feeling pretty thankful today. One of my children has been navigating the effects of Covid for over six months. She has something called Covid induced Arthritis. Before Covid, she was driving herself full force towards being a prima ballerina. She had her eyes on New York and she was rapidly advancing in that direction. Her Covid illness was relatively mild. She had no energy, was very weak, but overall it wasn't as intense as it was for some of us. 

Her body did not rebound. Her joints would randomly swell to twice their size. She lost all endurance. She was in an enormous amount of physical pain every time she danced or exerted energy. Overnight, a virus took ballet away from her. 

Doctor's appointments, tests, and physical therapy ensued. The team was honest with her about what they knew: We've seen this in a few kids. We have very little data about the future. The only two patients we have treated have thus far and they have not recovered or made any progress. We drove onward with a positive outlook, and clarity about the type of personality that dances for five hours a day... she was going to work. That's what she thrives on.

Today she got the clearance to begin ballet again. Today we called her instructor and set up private lessons. One day a week, no more than 20 minutes, isn't much for someone who was previously so driven, but it's something! Seeing my daughter's face light up at the prospect of doing what she loves is priceless. 

We honestly believe that Covid showed her that He has better plans for her than what she imagined. We don't know if she'll ever get back to where she was before she got sick, but we do know that this week she gets to begin again. That's pretty darn exciting.

What's something that you're looking forward to beginning again this week?

Happy Monday!