Grace

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My Thanksgiving Hallelujah

We’d been married 205 days when my body failed my first (un)born. We’d been apart for 148 of those days. My soldier left in the fall, in the brilliance of the dying leaves. He left, and I was pregnant and blissfully naive in the way you can only be when you have yet to suffer real loss. I said goodbye to my husband at midnight in a nondescript gravel lot, with my head tucked up under his chin, breathing in...

Happy Birthday J: On Grace, and Dancing.

Dearest J, my firstborn, my first girl. It’s your birthday tonight, and I’ve got some words to say to you. Truth be told, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed these days … truth be told, I’m a lot overwhelmed . Our life just keeps on happening in trickle down ways on trickle down days, and I turned around and you, my first baby, have been here a decade. I spent most of that decade in a daze wearing yoga pants and...

On Deployment, and Hard Stories

Deployment is a cornerstone of our story. The story I am working on in book form. Miscarriages. Moves. Deployment. Loss. So much grief. So much grace. I’ve shared bits and pieces of the beginning here in this space, but now I am a wee bit stuck. See, now I have to write this story. And truthfully, eight years later, I am still searching for the right words to tell you how my deployment changed me, as a Christian, as a mother,...

Part Four: Grace in the Midst of Grief.

. . . The details from this point forward are unimportant.  I received the drugs, if only to shut me up. I was in a Dilaudid-induced haze for much of the day. I have vague memories of Army Wife moving in and out of view, on the phone with Husband, keeping him apprised of the situation, holding my hand, helping me to understand the risks of surgery, helping me choose surgery. Of her being the hands and feet of Christ....

Sameness

Sometimes …. like right now, for example …. I am overwhelmed by the sameness of my sin. The same battles. The same ungratefulness. The same ugly heart.   For instance.  I want to be pregnant.  I’m not. Reconfirmed today. I should be nine months pregnant. I mean, how many times can I write about this? Washing impossibly tiny human clothes. Nesting. Sewing crib sheets.  But I’m not.  So I curl up in a ball under the covers in the dark...

I’m Still Here …

I’m still here.  Just feeling a gloomy shade of grey these days. There is no overwhelming tragedy, no disaster looming. Just the particulars of an Army life.  Moving …. again.  Saying goodbye …. again.  Hearing the J girl talking in a mournful voice about saying goodbye. Breaking my heart.  The one hundred and one million details to be attended to.  It adds up to twisty stomach and days in the trenches. And less motivation to write.  Don’t get me wrong...