I've said this before and I'll say it again and again -- no matter how many Bible studies I complete, how much time I devote to God in the early morning hours, or how many Sundays I sit in a pew, the biggest faith lessons often come from my kids. Last night was a good example.
On this move, with the expectation of the new baby, G gave up his toddler bed to P, who in turn gave up her crib to R. This left G with what was previously our guest bed -- a queen. So, John being John, last night he taught G how to run and do a somersault onto the bed. While it's fun to have a dad like John that teaches little boys to do things that will inevitably lead to an ER visit, his timing wasn't the best because it was right before bed and it was a bit tough to get G to settle down enough for his bedtime routine. Eventually he got settled down enough to read and pray. When it was his turn to pray he started off normally "Thank you for this day, thank you for this family, thank you for everything"...and then suddenly his eyes popped open and he said "God, watch this", after which he promptly jumped up, ran to the other side of the room and somersaulted onto the bed before calmly sitting back down and saying "and Jesus' people said, Amen".
G was so excited about what he had learned to do that he actively invited God to watch him do it, and then he was confident that God indeed had his eyes on him, giving him His full attention while he demonstrated.
I'm pretty sure there is a lesson for me to learn there...
"And He said "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven" - Matthew 18:3
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Short Notice
When John went to Iraq during the initial invasion we got 12 hours notice that he would be leaving. Literally. He called me at work the minute I walked in the door and I dropped him in the gym parking lot at 9 o'clock that night. The American military (some of them our dear friends from the 173rd Airborne, which we had just left four months earlier) had been on the ground in Iraq for less than two weeks, so we had no idea what the communication would be like, much less when John would be back.
When he went to Afghanistan in 2009 we got three weeks notice. We had been at Fort Carson for about six months when John came home one day and told me that he was leaving for Afghanistan within in the month, and truer words had never been spoken. He was gone in three weeks.
As bad as that may sound to be taken by surprise by a deployment, I've come to learn that short notice can be a good thing. In fact, short notice may earn the title of "my new best friend".
When we found out that we were coming to Fort Wainwright last November we implored a friend of ours to make a few phone calls and find out what the deployment scheduled looked like for the units here, so that we would know what were headed into. We found out that a deployment loomed in the April/May timeframe. Six months removed from that deployment I thought "okay, I can deal with that", because really, what other choice do I have? Exactly. None.
So, now here we are, settling in to life in Alaska. A full week into March. Deployment is definitely looming large.
If John were to leave May 1st, he would only have been home for 11 months between deployments. This isn't unheard of in the Army, as many of my friends know and have experienced, but it's not fun. He will miss G's birthday two years in a row, a whole new round of other birthdays and celebrations and milestones. Oh, and the birth of our child. I know that this sounds like I am complaining, but I hope that you will hear my heart and know that I am not complaining about these things that are inherent to CHOOSING the Army life (because let no one lie to you, everyone in the military today has volunteered to serve during a time of war). Really, I am lamenting about the six months that I was given to think about all of those things. The extended period of time that I have been given in which to pretend that everything is normal, when in reality this big pink elephant named Deployment is following me from room to room.
I'm not sure that I like the long notice. Twelve months is long enough to dwell over the possibilities, the damages, the distance. Who needs these extra months?
When he went to Afghanistan in 2009 we got three weeks notice. We had been at Fort Carson for about six months when John came home one day and told me that he was leaving for Afghanistan within in the month, and truer words had never been spoken. He was gone in three weeks.
As bad as that may sound to be taken by surprise by a deployment, I've come to learn that short notice can be a good thing. In fact, short notice may earn the title of "my new best friend".
When we found out that we were coming to Fort Wainwright last November we implored a friend of ours to make a few phone calls and find out what the deployment scheduled looked like for the units here, so that we would know what were headed into. We found out that a deployment loomed in the April/May timeframe. Six months removed from that deployment I thought "okay, I can deal with that", because really, what other choice do I have? Exactly. None.
So, now here we are, settling in to life in Alaska. A full week into March. Deployment is definitely looming large.
If John were to leave May 1st, he would only have been home for 11 months between deployments. This isn't unheard of in the Army, as many of my friends know and have experienced, but it's not fun. He will miss G's birthday two years in a row, a whole new round of other birthdays and celebrations and milestones. Oh, and the birth of our child. I know that this sounds like I am complaining, but I hope that you will hear my heart and know that I am not complaining about these things that are inherent to CHOOSING the Army life (because let no one lie to you, everyone in the military today has volunteered to serve during a time of war). Really, I am lamenting about the six months that I was given to think about all of those things. The extended period of time that I have been given in which to pretend that everything is normal, when in reality this big pink elephant named Deployment is following me from room to room.
I'm not sure that I like the long notice. Twelve months is long enough to dwell over the possibilities, the damages, the distance. Who needs these extra months?
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