When They Don't Call Home

Reading in between the newspaper headlines, I put two and two together and I know why I haven't heard his voice lately. I need no explanation. I don't like to actually talk about "it" with him--where he is, what is happening there. I don't ever tell him that I heard about the surge of rocket attacks in Location X, or that I "get" the significance of activity in Location Y. When I hear those things, I know that the probabilities of his safety are being recalibrated with different numbers. I deduce from the shift of the political winds, that there will be changes in his world over there that will possibly trickle down into mine. Even though I still keep my phone close like I did in the beginning, I know not to expect any calls.

Faces of War

Having a longtime interest in military history, I've developed an interest in combat photography. I have a small collection of old photographs and of course, have an appreciation for how closely I can 'see' the war from the comfort of my home computer. When there's a situation "over there," we can see both pictures of it online almost instantaneously. Yet there are so many faces of this war that people will never see.

My friend Andrea's little boy has taken to sleeping with this soft family photo album that contains pictures of his deployed daddy. She's found him sitting there more than once, calmly fingering the pictures of him and his dad. He smiles, he plays with it, he likes to sleep with it.

Sometimes when I feel sad, I think about the way other families are sharing in this experience. I think about what it must be like to be Andrea, walking into a dark room to check on your son and experienceing the bittersweet moment of finding that he's sitting there with his little book, giggling at pictures of him and his dad.

I want to know what this little boy is thinking and I want to know the secret of the peaceful knowing I see in his little face. Where can I get some of that? I can't help but wonder if this what God's love looks like in a baby's life.

Where is God in the middle of a war? The evidence of divine grace in war time seperation can be so very subtle, but it's what I see a reflection of in this picture. A silver lining to a dark cloud in a sky of many dark clouds.

If you only look at the clouds, that is all you'll ever see. Sometimes you have to look at their edges to find what you are supposed to see.

My Top 8 Tips for Surviving Deployment

R&R has come and gone and 9 months have passed since he left. It seems like a good day to reflect upon what I've learned so far through my experience and from observing others I know with deployed spouses.

In that vein, here's a few gems that I've started to carry around in my pocket each day.

1. Go with the flow and make use of technology (IM, email, pics, video cam). Use the time apart to get to know one another and learn how to communicate with eachother in a way that not many people ever have the chance to develop.

2. Don't ever spend energy wondering if you two will grow apart or focusing on how much the situation stinks. Stand up straight and walk through the experience a little bit everyday. Above all, keep moving. Like a pastor of mine once said, "If you're going through hell, dont stop, keep on going!"

3. Dealing with deployment is at times, a very one-sided seeming experience because a man at war doesn't have the luxury of catering to your every womanly need. Don't get too hung up on your "rights" - what you've chosen to do will at times be nothing more than an act of selflessness. In no way equals the selflessness it takes to put your life on your line for another soldier--be grateful you are safe at home.

4. Always try to remember that no matter how hard it is for you, that he probably has a lot of the very same loneliness that you do, except he's also in a combat zone. Strive to accept these rough patches with womanly grace, not the grief of a child.

5. Don't sweat the small stuff or every detail of his communication pattern with you or the lack thereof when those times come (and they will). Relax and rest in faith that you WILL have the opportunity to talk to him again and the grace of another opportunity to interact again so that you two get back on course. I say this because you'll see many others panic in the sometimes choppy seas of deployment. Ride out the waves, sister, just as you might if you were lost at sea and remember that kicking and screaming when you think you are going to drown only brings you that much closer to doing so. Try not to lose your head, know what I mean?

5. Everytime you feel like you want something from him to fulfill something missing inside of you, think instead of what you can do for him and the voids he must have being so far away from the colorful landscape of America. If you feel unloved or ignored or sad, do something that you think will make him feel loved, wanted, less alone. Instead of focusing on what things are like for you, try to think about walking in his boots a little bit every day.

6. Listen to him, accept him, encourage him, remind him that he's strong, send him lots of cookies, give him a break, and don't weight him down with unrealistic demands that he somehow be the kind of partner he could be if he were here in person. Concern yourself with how you can be his "friend."

7. Know that you too are a soldier of sorts. Take pride in knowing that very few women are woven from the kind of cloth that shrouds you. You were made strong when you were made for him.

8. When you can't touch him, sleep next to him, talk to him, laugh with him, or tell him you love him, pray for him.

Larger USPS Flat Rate Box Offers APO/FPO Discount

I have good news for those of us whose physical contact with our deployed soldiers consists of frequenty mailing them Flat Rate boxes. For the first time ever, the US Post Office will be offering a military discount on shipping to APO/FPO addresses when it's new, larger flat rate box becomes available in March. The new flat rate box is larger than the others they have now, measuring 12x12x5.5". It will cost $12.95 to mail or $10.95 if sent to an APO/FPO address.

Our Turn (6 Month Milestone)

A few days ago we reached an important milestone in this 15 month deployment- 6 months. A 50% of a year has gone by since I drove away from him on that warm, summer evening at Ft. Bragg. This little curb is the exact place where we spent our last moment together. We'd already said our goodbye privately, but this is the little spot of earth where I last saw my husband running off towards an area where soldiers were gathered.

The sun was setting and I drove away with my heart thumping, hoping that reality would hit only after I left the base. It was a long drive to Raleigh and a longer night alone in a rink-a-dink hotel, wondering if each second was the moment his plane was taking off. Part of me felt I should be running along side the plane as fast as I could until I fell on my face in the dirt with one arm outstretched as his plane lifted into the sky. The other part of me just wanted to sit perfectly still, and never speak again, as if denying a voice to grief would deny its sovereignty.
I haven't cared to share the events of that day with anyone--I think I needed to get more of the behind me. You just really don't want to be on a military installation the day of a deployment if you don't have to be. Just watch the happy homecomings on TV. Trust me.

Everyone has their own way of saying good-bye.

In one instance, a husband was hugging his wife and kids in the front yard of their humble little on post home. All of his stuff was on lawn and I imagined at any moment his ride would come and take him away. Other couples were having their private moment in parking lots---away from the bustle of loading gear and the lines at the weapons draw. I could almost hear the delicate whispers and feel their embrace.

I saw a father walking with his arm around his teenage son, knowing he was probably telling him to do good in school and listen to his mother or that he was the man of the house for now and needed to step up. The son was not crying, but nodding his head as if he understood what his dad has been telling him on a different level today. "Yeah, dad. I understand. I will take care of the lawn and make sure we lock the doors at night. I will take care of Mom, little Joe, and the baby."

Small children played near the busses. Although initially I wanted to be with my husband until the very last moment possible, when I saw them running around, oblivious to the seperation they were about to experience, I suddenly was glad I wouldn't be there. I'm not sure I could bear to see their tears, their mom's trying to soothe their cries through her own tears as the busses drove away. Sigh. My heart still aches when I think of what I saw that day.

The beginning of our good-bye didn't involve any words. It was just us, alone in bed a day or so before he left. I was in his arms and quietly weeping while he held me close. Nothing was said. We knew.

It seemed only seconds passed before we were sitting on a picnic bench adjacent to a little pond at Ft. Bragg. I felt the almost ghostly echos of many goodbyes that had taken place there in all the years before we stood there. There we were, standing in the shadows of 82nd Airborne paratroopers from times long gone, whispering prayers and words of love and encouragement that belong only to us. It saddened me to know they also stood here with a wife or sweetheart saying they'd be back and either did not or else came back a different man. At the same time, I felt a quiet strength wash over me with the gentle peace of knowing that it was simply our turn.

As the circumstances of the world's troubles pulled us apart, I felt at the same time we were being warmly received by the others in the ancient tribes who do not fall to pieces when the drum of war begins to beat. Oh, how I miss him.... and yet I know that we can't be broken by such a minor thing as 15 months of time - not with the examples that we have had from those who've gone before us.

The Worst Kind of Good Dream...

...is when you dream that you are together and wake up and remember that you aren't. Although the story line was not very exciting, the dream I had during my nap was vivid. There was dialogue, eye contact, and laughter. It was as if my skin could feel the closeness of his presence.

I awoke from the sound of the television, hearing the exaggerated dialogue of Sylvester Stallone buying a watch for his wife in Rocky while she wrung her hands about the cost. Half asleep, half awake, I remembered the time at the PX when K. tried to buy me a "too expensive" watch saying that my wrist didn't deserve a mere watch, but rather, a "time piece." My heart smiled.

A moment after that, I became cognizant that I was really just laying on my couch alone, listening to the sound of the TV. The family gone from a Thanksgiving visit and knowing the man in my dreams was half a day ahead of me in Iraq, I felt starkly alone.

So Far Away from Me

A little video I made recently after catching this tune on the radio.

Arms Gone Astray

You know what kinds of things make it hard to write in this "positive" blog? These kinds.

SEAN M. HAFFEY / Union-Tribune
Veterans for Peace set up 2,400 crosses on the beach in Oceanside.
Each marker has the name of a service member who died in Iraq.

Flat Daddies

If you have little ones at home, you might find having a "Flat Daddy" around is a nice thing for your kids. Flat Daddies are life-sized portraits of your loved one and are free to children of deployed parents although the wait time is long. Really now, with 15 month deployments, what else are people with young children doing to keep Daddy (& Mommy) alive around the home? There are also life- sized cutouts available.