Transformation: Becoming An "SP" Again

Wow. Here it is, already April, and life is moving so fast once again. Spring brings about recitals, team sports, and class programs if you have school-aged children. It also brings about much hustle and bustle for anyone involved in a church as you move from the reflective season of Lent into the shining glory of the empty tomb on Resurrection Morning. In my family, add to all this a slew of family birthdays and anniversaries. Tired yet? TOO BAD! Because now my life has spun back into action as a new wife. And not just any wife, the wife to an active duty soldier in the Army. One who is making a transcontinental move in, oh, about five days. In what took the ID card lady about 10 minutes to change in her omnipotent computer system, I went from being a "URW" (Unremarried Widow) to being a "SP" (spouse) again in a few keystrokes. What those keystrokes symbolize absolutely blows my mind.

It's crazy to think about where my life was six months ago, a year ago, five years ago, etc. R. and I recently married (see S4J and His Girl for some hysterical footage and on-the-go vlogging), and with the wedding/life planning process there came a lot of opportunity for reflection. I would be remiss if I glossed over all of this, so I need to document it now while it is still fresh in my mind, before my feeble brain is clogged with other details that need more immediate attention.

WEDDING PLANNING

This is, in the minds of some, like childbirth: something amazing to experience, painful while going through it, yet you only remember the good stuff about it, although you pray to the good Lord to never have to do it again and swear to pay off your children so that they elope when the time comes. Also, there is this misconception that there is an "appropriate" amount of time to be engaged or that it takes at least a year to plan an amazing, wonderful event. To quote John Pinette, "I say 'nay-nay'!" We were engaged for just shy of four months. In the first three weeks I was able to secure an amazing florist, our reception site which handled our food and beverages, a wedding cake, buy my dream gown, and order my invites and paper goods. I didn't exactly cut corners, but I also didn't want to break the bank. I did all that in three weeks being a single parent, albeit I don't work outside the home. Folks, it can be done.

I happened upon some really great vendors who are skilled at their craft. As the days dwindled down, both my groom and I were able to enjoy looking forward to our big day without having to put out fires and come up with lots of scatterbrained contingency plans last minute. Overall, I'd say we got what we wanted and the whole event was even better than we could have dreamed.

THE ROAD TO THE CHAPEL

As lovely as all this is, wedding planning for me was not just about procuring the perfect flowers, dress, or menu. Wedding planning was another step in the grief process. It was about really learning what it means to join with this person and become one. That is hard to do when it means completely cleaving yourself from the one you lost and can take time. There is no room for three people in a marriage. It was, for me, one of the most amazing, surreal days of my life.

I know this may sound really confusing to some of you. I will attempt to describe what was going on in my heart over those months, but I just don't know if I can do this justice or not. I promise not to be unduly dark or sarcastic (aww, maaaannn!), just telling it like it was for me and trying to put you in my brain as best I can.

If you are married, picture yourself back on your own wedding day, exuberant and brimming with love for this person you married. Think over some of the best days and worst days of your marriage. Think about the children you have had, or something over which you have both bonded. Think about some of the dreams and goals you have set for your lives together. Take one last look at your spouse now. Remember every minute detail that you can, because this will be the last look you ever get. Touch them, smell them, feel the warmth in their skin before it is gone. That's gonna have to last you a while. Now turn around and walk out the door. Once you leave, you can never go back -- it's a one-way ticket to your new life.

Now imagine you, your children, all of your things, and put them in a different state. Take your friends, your church, the things you see during your daily grind, and erase those from your daily landscape. Put a new, pleasant but unfamiliar environment outside your door. You can have as many pictures and artifacts of your spouse as you want. You can pretend to talk to them on the phone, set a place for them at the table, whatever you want, but you will never see them again. You still feel like a family waiting on someone to come home from a business trip, but that traveller's key will never turn in your door again. Do this day in and day out. Oh yeah, and keep your chin up while you're at it.

Let a few years pass. The feeling finally comes back to your body and your heart, slowly as if you are thawing from a hard freeze. The shock and pain has worn off, and you no longer feel as if you are waiting for missing link. You've developed a new sense of normal. Normal relative to you. You might look at the lives of others and wonder what it was ever like to be a traditional family. Ponder what effect your life events will have on your children as they grow up, fall in love, and decide whether or not they will marry. Scarier still, ponder what effect your own grief has had on your children and how much time and money they will have to spend in therapy! Now that you're pretty much done thawing out, you have a stark realization: you want to step away from the one you lost into the arms of another.

Maybe you will take that step, maybe you won't. For the sake of our narrative, let's say you do. How will you handle telling a love interest about the significantly ginormous, neon flashing sign on your head that says, "WIDOW" or "WIDOWER"? Will he/she ask about it? Will you tell? Will you say something before they have a chance to ask? Will they freak out about it? What about if you cry? Will they freak out about that? Will they accept the situation or not? How will you handle this with your children? Will you listen to advice from married friends? Family? Other single people? Other single parents? Your religion? What is appropriate and what isn't? Left or right? Up or down? Black, white, or nuanced shades of grey? I'm so glad you don't have anything else going in your life so you can devote all your time to figuring out these questions... oh wait a minute...!!!

Now do you guys understand why this blog is called, "One More Thing"?!? :)

Let's fastforward to your wedding day. You have taken innumerable careful steps leading up to this day. You've come a long way from still feeling like a spouse who's waiting on their other half to return to them to a completely separate, independent individual who is strong and evolved enough to know when they are ready to fall in love and bond with someone again. Thinking about a life and a future without your newly betrothed spouse is unimaginable, and you marvel at how lucky you are to have found this love and acceptance in this person. You have wonderful plans of raising children and growing old together when something begins to stir, almost like the beginnings of a sneeze deep inside your head, but this is in your heart. You think, "Wait a minute, this sounds familiar..."



What you've done is transformed: you have felt like this squishy, awkward caterpillar feeling its way around a garden, trying to find some sustenance upon which to survive. You gathered your strength, spun your cocoon, and emerged as a completely new creature -- beautiful, graceful, and free. You don't feel bound by such gravity any more. You are light and basking in the warm sun.

THE BOTTOM LINE(S)

It was one thing to decide I wanted to date again. It was another thing to actually go out and date people, socialize, put yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position. It was one thing to meet an amazing man that put a smile back into my heart. It was another thing to completely give it over to him and trust him not to break it after coming through so much. It was one thing to tell T. goodbye and soldier on these last 4 1/2 years, knowing we would high-five each other again in the presence of the Lord. It was another thing to allow myself to fall in love again and not worry about feeling as though I was betraying T. It was one thing to say "yes" to R. when he proposed and get excited about making wedding plans. It was another thing to look into R.'s sparkling, gentle blue eyes, say my vows to him, slip the ring on his finger, and become his wife. When I walked with my sweet Dad down the aisle, praise Jesus, I did not feel as though I was walking away from T. I felt like I was running full force toward R., and that right next to him was exactly where I belonged. Standing there looking at him, I wasn't aware of anyone else in the room with us -- all I could see was soft light coming in through stained glass windows and flickering on candles, framing his sweet, smiling face. As the kids clambered between us and and we had our nuptial smooch, I felt like I had something new, yet something I sort of had all along: our family.



I started noticing something the day I picked up my gown. Real love is not to be taken for granted. It is a rare and precious thing. I hear R.'s voice on the phone, or I say something to someone about "my husband," and I'm reminded of this. I pray that it's something I never forget. I also hope I never forget where I've been, the hopelessness and lonliness I felt, the awkwardness and feeling disconnected that set in sometimes. I wasn't completely pessimistic about my life, but it's hard to be truly happy in life when things just aren't right. I hope I never forget the kinds of advice not to give. I hope my friends and family will know someday how thankful I am that they didn't give up on me even when I was feeling fairly tormented at the time. I hope I haven't damaged my poor, sweet children, who I know are gifts from God that have given me purpose in life. (Embarassed? Yes, and I'll likely do it again. Damaged, hopefully not!)



NERVOUS NEWLYWED?!?



I'll be honest. This all seems too good to be true. Is that pessimistic or negative of me? Does it communicate a deep-seated distrust of God and therefore underdeveloped spirituality? Maybe, but quite frankly I'm not interested in a psycho-theological explanation here. I remember I was completely stressed out with breastfeeding with my second child because of dire complications I had with my first. Until we got past that point I was a stress bucket. After that it was smooth sailing. My neighbor/friend/consultant also did a great job to reassure me and restore some of my confidence.



I think this is where prayer will prove quite helpful for me. My nerves began to fray a little bit, admittedly, on our honeymoon. We were preparing to fly over to see some friends the following day before we came back home. Some of these friends are some of the most precious people I've had the privilege to know, having come alongside me and ministered to me through music, laughter, and friendship during losing T. After I got off the phone with one of my friends and started remembering all those tough times she loved me through, I nearly had an anxiety attack. What had I done?!? I went off and got married again!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Don't you know all this is going to happen again and you're going to be left with a twice-broken heart?



I just stuffed it and put it out of mind. We had a great time the last couple of days, came home, and started back into the daily grind. But the night before R. left to go home, I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I cried almost as hard that night as he just held me as I had the day T. died. I will admit: it almost makes me throw up spontaneously to think about R. dying and being gone. I have come through so much to be at this point in my life. My understanding of life and love is so much more profound than it was ten years ago. At the hotel I had looked at his shaving items there by the sink and heard him talking on the phone in the room and then envisioned it all gone, and I just wanted the earth to swallow me up.



I know I won't always be this panicky about him dying. God has proven to be faithful to God's word time and time again to me. I hate being worried at a time of renewal in my life, when so many great things are starting to happen for us. I hate that grief is like an ugly tattoo that is with you, whether or not anyone else can see it. But I do love him and can't imagine not being his "SP". What is most important to me is that he loves me as I am, crazy and worried and energized all at the same time. I just want to take each moment, with God's help, and cherish it -- with him, with our children, with each new step in life. I could waste away my days in tears of this thing I fear so much, or I could choose to take advantage of the time we have. I will not lose heart; I choose to be of good courage.



"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait on the LORD; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the LORD!" -- Psalm 27:13-14

Beauty Will Rise

I have just deleted the blog I had intended to publish today, but strangely enough I think the title needs to stay.

I have been awash in emotion today. I awoke to yet another day of rare, pristine fall weather that I have not experienced in this part of the country in a number of years. I rose from slumber feeling at peace, happy, fulfilled, purposeful. Then I came into my office and sat down to listen to my latest download, Steven Curtis Chapman's, "Beauty Will Rise," which is the griefwork put to music of the Chapman family after the loss of their sweet little five year-old Maria over a year ago. When I heard the words to some of the songs, I immediately felt a pang of identifying with the bittersweet sentiments of intense loss and a holy grief, one that is observed by many people but privately lamented and deeply mourned. And then the panicky, sick feeling as the events at FT Hood unfolded this afternoon. The scrambling for information, contact with loved ones, waiting, uncertainty, and the undeniable stench of death.

I was so struck in many ways by the Steven Curtis Chapman CD that I was moved to devote an entire post to it; as luck would have it, I got busy and had to walk away from the post, saving it for completion at the end of my day hours later. How would I know what events would end up ruling the day and taking priority in my mind?

As of this post, the latest numbers and information is staggering: 13 dead, at least 30 wounded. The shooter's smiling face has been plastered all over news channels, and the assumptions and foregone conclusions are swirling like a Kansas twister across the networks. No matter what finally emerges as fact or fiction, this entire event is beyond sickening in more ways than one.

Being a creature with selfish tendencies, I internalized today's events in such a different way than most. I was immediately rushed back to November 29 and 30, 2005. I felt the numbness again in my arms and legs that I had felt upon hearing about T's motorcycle accident, driving past the wrecker loading up the demolished bike, the ambulance in the bay, the swath of trauma personnel hovering around him in the ER, the thwocking of the medivac rotors as they waited to rush him off to a trauma center in Shreveport, the waiting in uncomfortable waiting rooms for a shred of information, wondering what shape he would be in when I finally got to see him, wondering if he would be in the hospital for a month or if he was going to die. Then I remember hearing my Casualty Assistance Officer's voice on the phone, going through the steps of making final arrangements that seemed so surreal. This is really happening? To me? To him? What?!? But he was getting ready to deploy -- this sort of thing doesn't happen until the guys are deployed. He was only coming home from work, we had just gotten off the phone -- are you sure you got this right? What am I supposed to do now?

How many new widows are there at FT Hood tonight? How many people saw a soldier in a Class A's show up at their door with a commander or a chaplain? How many people now know what a Casualty Assistance Officer is going to help them do over the next couple of weeks? How many parents are finding out that there will be one less table setting at Thanksgiving three weeks from today? How many kids get to celebrate Christmas next month without their parent? How many babies are going to be born into a single parent family?

I don't even have to be up at Scott & White trauma center to feel the tension pulsating from the hearts of these families, waiting on pins and needles to hear news, any news at all about whether their soldier will make it or whether they have been shoved through Door #2 without their permission, a door which locks after you pass the threshold and has no doorknob on the other side. It's a one way ticket to a life you never thought would be yours.

The fact of the matter is this: tomorrow is not promised. Not for me, T., Maria Chapman, or any of the soldiers who died today. Not for you or your loved ones. I've said many times that, as military spouses, we brace ourselves for the possibility that our loved one may not come home to us alive from a deployment. We do not prepare ourselves for something like what happened today, or like what happened to me. And why not? Who knows. Any number of reasons I guess.

I can only hope and pray that these new Gold Star families will draw close to one another and to God as they grieve and struggle in the days, weeks, months, and even years to come. And I hope that we can all give them a wide berth to do so and to unconditionally love them through this process. I hope that they will find the tiny pieces of grace and hope in the ashes of their lives and use them to weave a new tapestry, one that will blend together their past love and the new life toward which they will have to move, just as even I daily move toward my new reality. The title song on Steven Curtis Chapman's new album is about this exact topic -- how beauty can rise from these tragic, astoundingly painful situations. It is a lifeline to cling to when you are sinking, just praying that what you're going through won't swallow you alive. If you can hold onto the idea that God will redeem this pain and use it to God's glory, then just maybe something beautiful can emerge that you would have never thought possible as you were going through it at the time.

I wanted to embed this song from YouTube but it doesn't want to cooperate. To be blessed by this song, I implore you to download the album or listen to it here. Even in the midst of absolute pain and grief, I truly believe that beauty will rise.

+ May the Holy Spirit encamp around the ones who are hurting tonight and give them rest and peace for the difficult days to come. Amen.

Army Wife Puts The Smack Down On A Purse Snatcher

Just another reason why you don't mess with a woman who is surrounded by her children constantly and hasn't had sex in almost a year! This local woman is a tribute to military wives doing what they have to do to keep the household running while the guys are out there in a modern wilderness. (Of course, this could have been a military husband keeping the homefires burning while his wife was deployed, but then again, wouldn't we all wonder why he was carrying a purse? I digress...)

I looked for a link to this story so you all could read it for yourselves, but the only online newspaper that carried this story is my local paper, to which I already subscribe. They wanted me to get an online subscription to access the story, which I find preposterous. So, I will boil it down for you, GGG style.

This lady -- we'll call her Wonder Woman for obvious reasons -- is a mother of three children and has a deployed military husband. She was at Wal-Mart the local mass discount retailer and was finishing up her grocery shopping after having dropped her youngest child off at watchcare on post. Being the proactive superhero that she is, she places her purse in the car before unloading her burgeoning cart. After having scanned her perimeter for enemy infiltrators, Wonder Woman dutifully returns her cart to the corrall, lest it wreak havoc on other minivans and SUVs Millenium Falcons or space shuttles and damage their force fields. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Swiper moving stealthily to her own rocket, left vulnerable by an open bay door. Faster than she can slap on her sparkly tiara and matching wristbands, she recognizes that Swiper is moving in quickly, and she recalls that the watchcare nazi on post won't allow her to pick up her child without her military ID. With her umbrella in her hand (remarkably, since we haven't had any rain in, like, four months), she proceeds to run after him at warp speed, yelling out, "Swiper, no swiping! Swiper, no swiping! Swiper, NOOOO SWIPING!" This alerted fellow shoppers as to the crime in progress.

By the time our fearless heroine caught up to Swiper, he was getting into the stolen space cruiser he was rollin' in. They fought, they struggled, they talked politics and religion, after which time Swiper attempted to shoot off into orbit WITH WONDER WOMAN STILL HANGING ON TO THE SIDE MIRROR OF THE VEHICLE!!! Upon being interviewed, Wonder commented that she "wouldn't encourage that type of response"; however, I want to kiss this fearless woman for taking the fight to the man!

All's well that ends well. Swiper is behind bars, and Wonder Woman was, in fact, able to get her child out of watchcare. (At least, I assume so -- there was no follow-up story about some woman who had abandoned her child at the CDC (Child Development Center) and thus tainting the image of our fearless heroine.) And that, dear readers, is why you never want to mess with a military spouse -- she will hunt you down and exact justice!

A Soldier's Prayer

"I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey...
I asked for health, that I might do greater things,
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things...
I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
I was given poverty, that I might be wise...
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men,
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God...
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things...
I got nothing that I asked for -- but everything that I had hoped for,
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am among all men most richly blessed."

-- An Unknown Confederate Soldier



"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." -- John 15:13

A Proud Pookie

Yeah, yeah, I know I haven't blogged in a while, but that's a whole other blog. R. and I were entertaining ourselves tonight by dinking around on the internet, and he told me about this movie he was in on YouTube. While most people might raise an eyebrow when their significant other admits that they are in a "movie on the internet," I didn't flinch -- I know my Pookie.

I just have to say this: I'm so stinkin' proud of the work he did while he was over there on his last deployment to Iraq and everyone who continues the mission. I love getting to see him in action, doing what he loves. That's my Pookie!

Nec aspera terrent!!

My Heroes

"Blessed by the LORD my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle -- my lovingkindness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and the One in whom I take refuge..." -- Psalm 144:1-2a

This is by no means a complete grouping of the men and women serving our country who have touched my life. Two in particular I can think of but couldn't find pictures of are CPT Julie and CPT M. Stubenhofer. CPT Julie is a sweet friend of mine who is a nurse in the Army, and CPT Stubenhofer was the first person I knew personally who died in action. His wife is an amazing woman that I am proud to call my friend. One more is my father-in-law, R.T., who served twice during Vietnam.

To all of you serving now or who have served in the past, you will never know just how much what you're doing means to not just your own country, but to the rest of the world. Your selfless service and sacrifices are truly humbling. To your families, we stand with you, the ones who serve on the homefront.

My Heroes

Thank you all for being my heroes. Happy Veteran's Day.

Another Anniversary

A year ago today I welcomed my hero home from war. It was 3:00 A.M. and I was running on pure adrenaline, but it was so worth the trip! Hard to believe a whole year has gone by!

Love you, babe!

Hurricane Ike Update

Nothing. Nada. Not a darned thing.

That's what effects we felt of this monster storm.

I guess I should be more positive -- we got one brief shower that was enough to dissolve the fertilizer I put out this morning. And we didn't have any damage or outage of power.

But seeing as I have no life and immensely enjoy rainy days, this was one of the most anti-climactic days I've had since the kids and I returned home from Washington.

On a lighter note, I will be travelling this week to Salt Lake City. Since I am not Mormon, nor do I ever plan to be, some of you might be wondering why on earth I'm headed there this week. As it turns out, there is a reunion for the unit with which R. served in Iraq. I had the privilege of meeting some of the veterans from this unit on Memorial Day on the National Mall. I was so touched by the sense of connection these guys shared. So many of them are Vietnam vets and have really fought and struggled to reclaim their lives from the harrowing images of battle and the heartbreak of fallen comrades. What amazes me is the look they give one another as they embrace and say, "Welcome home, brother," even after so many years. They didn't just return home from war at some time in the past. They return home to each other every time they gather and fellowship together.

Another reason why I will travel with R. to support him and this group of warriors is because of how the older guys support the current generation. The guys who have been around the block can spot a soldier from a mile away who is at high risk for not handling life back home very well. They love these young warriors and knock themselves out to tell them how proud they are of them and how they are there if the need arises.

What am I there for? To observe these brothers-in-arms reuniting, strengthening a bond that is crucial. To express to R. that I love him by supporting this tight-knit group that mean more to him than most people. To experience a part of the country I've never seen before. To hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing on Thursday night. And to look good at the banquet, too. :)

And BTW, if any of you are locals or have been to SLC before, toss me some pointers on things not to be missed!!