Getting Personal

What do I have to be thankful for?

Thanksgiving Day, 2008.

23 years old. Married just over a year. 11 month old baby boy.

I sat up anxiously all night long. A knot so big in the pit of my stomach I thought an alien may leap out at any moment. Today was the day. FINALLY.

I'd waited 11 long months for the call. Counting the days, the hours, the minutes. Knowing an approximate time frame but nothing for certain. Not til the call came in.  

It's a strange feeling to have half of your heart missing. To have so much love, but feel so empty all at the same time. I knew the feeling all to well. Too many goodbyes. Too many tears soaked into his pillow, washing away his scent after so long.  It's funny, too, to live in a house you want so badly to call home, but it just doesn't seem to be an appropriate name. After all, home is where your heart is, right? Well then how could it be home, when my heart was so far away? 

I checked on my sweet sleeping boy at least 20 times that night. Did he know? Could he sense the magnitude of what the day held? Surely not. I hope not. But, at the same time, I hope so. It's important, after all.  I remember sitting next to his crib, brushing his hair back with my finger and whispering "One day, sweet Prince, I will tell you the story of love. Love that travels so far you think it may be lost forever. But true love always finds its way home."  

It ALWAYS finds its way home.

It was bitter cold that Thanksgiving Day. I was over dressed in a heavy sweater. I was so concerned about what I should wear. Looking back now, I see I failed miserably. But that's neither her nor there, now is it?   I lightly nibbled on my Thanksgiving lunch, watching the clock and checking my phone more than anything else. I was the strangest combination of nervous and excited. I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh with glee or cry hysterically.

It was nearly a two hour drive to the hangar that bitter cold day. At that time, Stout Field was new and different to me. I still felt new to this life, thrown in the deep end without a life jacket. "Swim."  The guards pointed us in the appropriate directions. We found the large hangar and made our way inside, finding a lucky spot right in the front, facing directly at the large door at the opposite end.  Then we waited for what seemed like days. (In reality, it was around 3-4 hours) No one knew a definite time. But we would soon.

My phone rang. 

"We're on the buses." He said. 4 years later I still hear the words, strained thru the hum of busy voices in the echoing hangar. A lump rose in my throat. It was real. Finally. It was real.

After another brief wait, we heard a force of motorcycles approach. The Freedom Riders. I have the utmost respect for this amazing group. They stand with families like mine in the happiest and the saddest of times. They are true patriots in every sense of the word.   The walked into the hangar and lined the entry way for the first 10 or 15 feet. It was at this moment that it occurred to me:

THEY'RE GOING TO MARCH RIGHT IN AT ME.

My heart beat so fast in my chest I thought I may die before I even got to see his face. Dayson looked around confused by the vast range of emotions sweeping over the crowd. I held him tight, thankful for my small piece of Heaven who had kept me strong with tiny hands those past months. And then the large door opened.

 In front of that door stood what seemed like the entire Indiana Army National Guard, and in they marched, straight to me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. All I could do was cry. All the pain and sorrow and utter loneliness I'd felt over the last 11 months poured out of me. He was home. Mine at last. 

It seemed like that march took hours. The world spun slowly as I searched the crowd of uniformed soldiers for his face.  I recognized so many faces. They stopped within 3 feet of me. It was all I could do to will myself to be still, to not plow thru the soldiers to find my own. "Wait for him. He will find you." I thought. "Love always finds it's way home."   And he did. I swear, as the crowd parted and he stepped thru, the world stopped and angels sang. Ever wish and prayer I'd pleaded so earnestly in the darkest of hours was answered in that moment. There he was. Real flesh and blood. No computer screen, no skype, no broken telephone call. Him. My Hero. 

We were together at last, my red puffy eyes, his handsome face, and our sweet baby boy. My family. My heart had returned to me and I felt alive again. 

So you ask me what I have to be thankful for?   I am thankful for that Thanksgiving Day, and every one since then, that I have been able to hold My Soldier's hand and hear his voice, real and clear, right next me. That's a privilege many don't have this Holiday.  I'm thankful for every day with him until our next Mission arises. 

May you and your family enjoy a Blessed and Happy Thanksgiving.

Take a Moment to Thank our service men and women for all that they do, sacrificing daily and going with so little so that we can have so much.  

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!