It’s spending six months counting down to Departure-Day.
It’s saying hello and goodbye over and over and “Please don’t send me photos of your steak dinner in Fallon.”
It’s the pit in your stomach as the green sea bags appear in your bedroom and the packing begins and “Why do they still smell like jet fuel??”
It’s the last-minute paperwork, house chores, oil changes and hard conversations.
It’s the Last Supper and “Anything you want to eat before you go?”
It’s going to bed that night with your head spinning, the inevitable happening tomorrow and wondering how on earth you will handle it.
It’s the next morning, the stomach hurting, the knees starting to shake as you drive to the base.
It’s pulling into the hangar parking lot and thinking “Holy crap, this is actually happening!!”
It’s a final hug, the tears coming, the heartbreak of watching the kids say goodbye.
It’s him walking into the hangar and you driving away, a silent prayer for safety on your lips.
It’s questioning all your life choices and “Why on earth are we still doing this???”
The next day…it’s the new normal as your family marches onward.
It’s doing a countdown paper chain but then taking it down because “This is waaaaay too long” and unhealthy for your mental state.
It’s having the hard conversations with your kids, trying to squelch their anxiety about Dad being gone, assuring them of his safety.
It’s also announcing “There’s a new sheriff in town so listen up…”
It’s the passing of weeks and months and new-found independence.
It’s learning how to use a lawn mower, cleaning out the rain gutters and “Let me quickly check the tire pressure.”
It’s paying all the bills, scheduling all the repairs and unclogging a sink.
It’s buying frivolous things on Amazon because mail is fun and you need endorphins.
It’s clean towels pushed over to his side of the bed and sleeping multiple nights next to your Laundry Husband.
It’s watching whatever you want on the television because the remote heeds only to your will and “So what if I want to watch Twilight??”
It’s the occasional phone call from the ship and broken phone conversations of “What-uh-ih-on-ei?”
It’s sitting alone in church.
It’s an entire soccer season with just you on the sidelines.
It’s hard days solo-parenting, wondering how you can possibly give your kids all the care they need.
It’s balancing Fun-Mom with I’m-The-Only-One-Around-To-Discipline-You Mom
It’s Mary Poppins in the morning and Miss Hannigan at night.
It’s precious nights of snuggling on the couch, reading at bedtime and watching Disney movies.
It’s “What do you want for dinner- scrambled eggs or meatballs?”
It’s tears in your eyes as you proudly watch your resilient kids doing a HARD THING.
It’s Spring and Summer passing without him here.
It’s missing his presence and his joy and all the traits that made you want to be with him in the first place.
It’s watching the front lawn slowly die but “I’m trying to keep children alive so someone else can fix that later.”
It’s seeking out time with other military spouses because “You guys are the only ones who get this!!”
It’s hearing the national anthem and feeling more patriotic than usual.
It’s flipping the calendar and saying “Kids!! He’s home NEXT month!!”
It’s the Navy saying “Just kidding! We changed schedules! Add thirty more days!”
It’s asking and checking and finally putting up the paper chain for the final weeks.
It’s only two more weeks of putting out the trash bins.
It’s “Hurry, kids, take out your junk from Dad’s car before he gets home!!”
It’s buying new makeup because you feel a little nervous.
It’s shopping for groceries and re-buying the foods that he enjoys.
It’s putting flags in the front yard, hanging up a welcome sign and shouting to the world that “WE HAVE DONE SOMETHING BIG HERE!!”
It’s waking up that morning with a burst of adrenaline.
It’s driving to the base and thinking “It’s happening!!!”
It’s standing around the hangar, listening for timely updates, knowing you have only minutes left before the deployment is done.
It’s watching all the families around you, honored to be in the company of such strong people.
It’s someone announcing “10 minutes out!!” and everyone hurrying outside to intently watch the horizon.
It’s someone shouting “They are coming! They are coming! Do you see them??”
It’s a slow-moving flock of jets, silently growing closer and closer.
It’s the families jumping and cheering as the formation flies overhead and the deafening sound hits your ears.
It’s tears in your eyes and relief in your shoulders, thinking “WE. DID. IT.”
It’s waiting around while the jets circle and land, one by one.
It’s the little kids saying “Why does this part take sooooo long??”
It’s the canopies opening and all the men and women climbing down from the jets and taking off their gear.
It’s the families waiting with anticipation, excitement crackling in the air.
It’s the line of flight suits forming at the end of the tarmac, the palpable tension in the crowd as we are told to hold the line.
It’s them walking closer and closer and someone finally shouting “Run!!” and every kid racing like their lives depend on it, into the arms of their moms and dads.
It’s hugging him and thinking “He’s here. He’s real. We are all together. Thank you, Jesus.”
It’s feeling like the world is suddenly righted and everything is going to be okay.
It’s shoulders down and then shoulders back and the hint of pride that says “I handled that LIKE A BOSS.”
It’s knowing that our nation called and we answered and gave it everything we had… and now it’s time to go home. ❤️
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[“Are you safe to drive? It’s been months since you were in a car…are you sure I shouldn’t drive home? Move over…”]
Messy Kitchen Ministry 