The Quiet Moments That Support Freedom

This was written late in the evening, six months into a nine month deployment. We hadn’t been able to communicate for about ten days.

It’s late at night. Your infant son sleeps in his crib and makes soft sighs. He’s perfect. Beautiful. Sweet. Untouched by the unforgiving world. His life, our lives as Americans, are only possible because of these moments.

Moments of loneliness. When mothers’ eyes burn from too many hours with no reprieve because their other half is somewhere around the world. Moments when I just need nothing more than your arms around me and the smell of fatigues with a hint of fuel and the pungent reminder you probably haven’t showered in a few weeks. I would welcome that.

There is that pause at the bottom of the stairs. In the darkness, just after I shut off the last remaining light. When for a moment, I don’t have to be strong. Or at least won’t pretend I don’t feel the heavy weight. It’s a moment when my heart is raw and crying, full of love, pride, admiration, longing, and true exhaustion. Full of missing you.

I know God has a plan. I trust but I falter too. To live without fear, with abandon to that higher purpose gets the best of me sometimes. How can something, someone, as good as you be real and lasting? Worry gets me nowhere, but sometimes it does slip through.

I pray you are safe, strong, healthy, and happy. That motivation, prayer, and joy come easily, slipping into your daily moments. May your strength and presence reassure those around you of your commitment to them and to the mission.

In the end, it is not how we judge, but how God judges.

In the daylight, it’s easy to distract myself, but at night you can’t lie to you heart.

You are the hand I reach for in the dark.

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