A Soldier's Wife and So Much More

Counting Blessings

2011-06-11T18:52:00.001-07:00

It's been a tough month for Braden and so it's been a tough month for all of us. Braden's unit was deployed to Iraq last week and he took it hard. Very hard. For those of you who don't know, being in a unit is like being in a huge family of brothers (sometimes including sisters, but for Braden, it's brothers). They work together, sweat together, eat together, and learn to function as one literal unit, each soldier performing his task with precision, knowing his own skill and training will eventually be called upon to save the lives of others, possibly his brothers'.

But Braden did not go to Iraq. He was injured on their last deployment and is still awaiting a medical board to determine his future with the National Guard. He also started summer school the same week, which is daunting all by itself for him. He's not a school person.

Things got to be so intensely stressful for him emotionally, that he experienced seizure-like symptoms. He'd had this once before, during similarly trying times, so I knew what was coming, but it didn't make it much easier to watch or experience. Sometimes he jerks and twitches in his sleep when he is having night terrors, but this time the twitching and jerking increased, until he cried out, his body went rigid, and he stopped breathing.

I counted the seconds--they told me last time that if it lasted longer than three minutes to call 911. Who could sit there for three minutes, just counting? But I counted. Thankfully, I had to endure only 15 seconds of watching my husband tremble stiffly on the bed, his hunds curled on his chest and drool seeping from his mouth. Then his body relaxed and he breathed in grating gasps until finally, his breath eased into a steady rhythm and he woke up. It took him a couple of hours to return to normal (for lack of a better word) but he eventually could speak clearly and his pupils contracted back to a regular size.

But that is over, now. It will probably happen again, and it will probably be hard again. But today I count my blessings. I am grateful that he is home with me, while so many husbands and fathers have to be away from home, fighting for our freedom. I am grateful for the progress he has made and the determination he has to continue fighting for his own freedom from his physical and emotional injuries, now that his calling to his country has passed.

I am grateful that we spent today at the lake, basking in the sunshine and splashing with our children and loving this time we have together. Life never ceases to amaze me, with all its twists and turns, dips and climbs. But then I sit back and watch my children run into the waves, laughing as if life could not be better and I realize that it's true. For us, life could not be more perfect than it is right now. Where we are and what we experience is not by accident. Though times can get unbearably tough and sometimes I'm not sure how we'll get through--today, right now, I'm eternally grateful and happy to be a soldier's wife.

2011-01-10T14:15:00.000-08:00

I like old people. Especially the cranky ones. Not the sixty-something retired's that think the world owes them something for making the world what it is today (not that that's much to brag about) but the seventy and eighty year olds who are cranky because they're tired of pretending what people think of them. (I know many sixty-something's who are wonderful people and I love them, too, but you know what I mean.)

I love how old people say what they want to say without worrying if it's politically correct or offensive, and how they don't get in trouble for it. I love the white-haired, wrinkled, fragile spitfires who love to laugh because they've figured out the only thing that really matters in life is being happy with who you are, where you are, in every moment. I love when they don't mind when they get called old, but actually seem a little bit proud of the title.

I love the look old people get when they're tired of talking, tired of laughing, tired of living. How they gaze off into the distance, remembering, re-living, and looking forward to the next step, the next level of their existence to whisper them away.When they get that look, I want to know all the secrets they've learned, the ones that people can't tell but have to learn from living life. The secrets about the wisdom that only comes from years and years of happiness and laughter and pain and heartache.

One of my favorite sights is of an old, wrinkled man holding a new-born baby as they stare into each others eyes, whispering those secrets that only those fresh from heaven or near to returning can know.

I hear people complaining about their wrinkles and weak knees and discuss their failing bowels. I watch Hollywood stretch and scar their signs of age away, and I understand the desire to remain youthful and energetic, but I hope that I never succumb to the vanity that robs my age of the wisdom of living. I hope that I can see my face wrinkle, watch my body sag, and be able to smile as my eyes fill with memories of a life well-lived and a mind sharpened by the wisdom of years.

The Empty Manger

2010-12-05T18:37:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, my friend gave me a manger scene for Christmas. Each piece was individually wrapped and placed in a bag with a number on it, to be opened in sequence. On each bag was written a line from “The Nativity Song” in the Primary Children’s Songbook that coincided with its contents. Every year, this is the part of the countdown my children and I look forward to most.

We sing “The Nativity Song” and unwrap one bag each day, then place the piece in the stable. Every year, the cattle, oxen, shepherds, wise men, Joseph and Mary gather around the empty manger, waiting expectantly for the Christ child. I study this scene each year and wonder what would have happened if the manger stayed empty? I look at the small manger with its swaddling clothes lying bare on the straw, with no Christ child for it to cradle, and I rejoice each year as we unwrap the baby Jesus and place him gently in his place.

It is fitting that he is wrapped as if a gift, and that he is the last and most important piece of the scene, perfectly completing the peaceful picture. How empty would our lives be if his place in the manger had remained unfilled? A meaningless, cruel world would fill his spot in our hearts. Instead of that powerful source of hope and comfort, our mangers would be filled with sorrow and hopelessness. My heart is filled with gladness and gratitude that he chose to come to earth and fill that empty manger with his message of love and peace. May we all take a few moments each day this month to feel gratitude that the manger did not remain empty.

“See the dear baby, of Bethlehem, Little Lord Jesus, the Savior of men!”

God Bless America

2010-07-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Happy Independence Day everyone. This year our Independence Day overlaps with a family reunion, so the day hasn't gotten quite the individual attention that it usually does for us, but we still managed to take some time and reflect on why we celebrate this magnificent day in our country's history.

My children constantly ask me to tell them stories. Quite a while ago the old fairy tales got boring and my brain ran out of anything imaginative, so I started to tell them about history. Those are now their favorite kind of stories to hear. Every year I retell them all I know about the founding of our country, which isn't as much as it should be, but it's enough to let them know how grateful we should be to live in this free land.

Through my telling of these stories, I remind myself of all those who created this one nation, under God. I imagine our founding fathers look down on us all and weep over what we have done with the great gift of a democratic government they gave us. It is crumbling beneath our feet. Our life, liberty and pursuits of happiness have led us to greed and corruption. Granted, there are a few honest politicians who work to truly serve the people, but they are few and far between. The reason for all this is simple: we are forgetting God, who is the true founder of our nation. Whatever form God may take for people--a Higher Power, a Mother Nature, an Allah, a Buddha--He is being replaced by the cry of selfishness and immorality.

Those prosperous years that followed September 11th were caused by an upswing in the economy, yes, but mostly by a return of the people to faith, to love, and to unity. That feeling has fallen away already. How quick we are to forget.

But I am still grateful to live in this free land and I will strive to keep my loved ones close, no matter how the world around me crumbles away. I know that as we strive to love and serve one another, we will make it through whatever lies before us and emerge a better, happier people for it. As long as we remember the one who is greater than us all.

God Bless America!

Muchness

2010-06-27T17:30:00.000-07:00

Life is so very fascinating. That's a perfect word to describe the ups and downs and topsy turvyness of it all. For a while I got stuck inside my own head. It was so very crowded in there, to borrow a term from Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland.

I love that movie. Aside from the fantastic visual effects, the dialogue and theme of the film appealed greatly to me. Everyone in that world is mad, crazy, bonkers. Even the "sane" people are insane. I could relate to every character in that movie for that very reason: I am crazy, too. But, don't you know, all the best people are. :)

Who wants to be "normal" (if there is such a thing) anyway? I enjoy my craziness, my insanity. What would my life be without it? I'd make no progress, be thoroughly dull, and who--I ask you, who--would dare play rarfuldunkflijjerbob with my kids? No one. They would be rarfuldunkflijjerbobless. So I'll take may insanity and keep it, too, thank you very much.

It's who I be.

Remembering

2010-04-25T23:37:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been relearning a lot of things. As life gets "easier" and I let my guard down, things seem to creep in, slowly, sneakily. Cetain things, certain "triggers" I instantly react to, and the red flag flies high. I immediately raise my defenses to those triggers and am determined never to take those bullets again. But other things, seemingly smaller things, I let in, bit by bit, until I start to lose my grip and have to regain my focus before I even really know it's gone.

It can be tricky, this balancing act I perform. But it doesn't have to be. That's the frustrating thing. I know what to do to stay focused, to keep my priorities straight. Shockingly, though, I'm imperfect and naturally quite lazy. It's so much easier to watch a movie with the kids than go to my support meetings. After all, my kids "need" me. Ah, but I am a better mother and wife when I take care of myself. It's so much easier to just cater to my family than to deny them any want, even though it takes more out of me than I have to give.

I already know what I need to do and how to do it. Honestly, it's as simple as going to bed at a decent hour and making sure I get my vegetables each day. I make sure it happens for the kids, but, for some reason, it's so much harder to make it happen for myself.

And that train of thought lets me know that it's time to get back on track, to re-start, to make changes--again. It's a good thing, though. It's good to remember being better and being worse, to appreciate how far I've come--how far my family has come--and to understand how much farther we have the opportunity to go.

Most of all I am ever grateful to know what strength lies behind me, before me, within me, and that I can simply call on Him, let Him in, and He will make me what He needs me to be.

All I need do is remember.

A Summary Ending and a New Beginning

2010-03-13T23:00:00.000-08:00

We made it through that deployment with love and support from an abundance of family and friends and a loving Heavenly Father. Braden made it home for the birth of our son, leaving after his two week leave only to return and surprise me some months later with a very lucky and rare opportunity to have a second leave. I can honestly say that was the best surprise I have ever had.

Then, some months after that, our husband and father came home to us for good and we felt all would be well forever after, that we would live our lives in rays of sunshine and fields of daisies. We soon found out the only sure thing about life is its unpredictability.

Braden has now been home from Iraq for four years and we are still putting the pieces of our lives together. Through much work and love, sweat and tears, we made it to where we are now. Only a soldier's wife could understand the battles we have fought since his homecoming, the victories we have earned, and the defeats we have suffered. Each day we encounter new struggles and new triumphs. But we are together in spite of it all, and better and stronger for it.

And, sometimes, the rays of sun shine down on us and I smell a hint of daises.

Together Again for A Moment

2008-10-11T13:36:00.002-07:00

The next time we saw each other was a few weeks later in California. Braden's unit was there, finishing up their training, so another wife and I got together and drove out to pick our soldiers' up, instead of waiting another day for them to drive home. One thing to be understood about these kinds of situtations is that every moment is precious. If one more hour, one more moment can be had, we take it, no matter the cost!

I was nervous to make the drive. I had been able to avoid ever driving anywhere more than a few miles outside of my hometown, and I would be driving a borrowed vehicle in California traffic! Things went fairly smoothly, though, and I wasn't required to drive through any big cities, other than Vegas. That in itself is an adventure, but we survived! We did have one situation where we had to pull over to the side of the road and take care of some kid issues. Finally, we arrived at the base safe and mostly sound, went through the checkpoint, and searched for our soldiers. There they were, walking along the side of the road, handsom in their uniforms, eyes lit up as they recognized us.

It's a funny thing to be reunited after weeks or months of separation. I felt kind of shy, like a first date feeling, though I was carrying his child, had given birth to another, and we had been married for 2 1/2 years! The shy feeling was quickly overcome as he held me tightly in his arms and we remembered each other again.

We were able to book a room at the hotel on base. This was another little miracle because we had called rather late and at first nothing was available, then only smoking rooms were available (me being pregnat, that wasn't going to work), then, at last, after a few more phone calls, a suitable room opened up. I'm wondering if the front desk just kicked someone out of a room so I would quit calling!

After we checked in to our rooms, the guys took us on a tour of the base. It was a fairly depressing place and I felt for the sodiers who had to spend weeks and months there, training and looking forward to nothing but more of the same or worse after getting to Iraq. They had a small movie theater and a couple of fast food restaurants as well as a small shopping center to buy odds and ends. The soldiers whose families' couldn't come pick them up stayed outside in large tents filled with bunk beds. There were outhouses scattered every few hundred yards outside the tents and a few small kiddie pools where soldiers sat on folding chairs, cooling their tired feet. I almost wished I hadn't come and seen how Braden had been living. If it was like this training in the US, how would it be overseas in the middle east?

"Tank Crossing"

Saying Goodbye

2008-08-21T18:13:00.000-07:00

The first time we said goodbye was the easiest. We didn't know what to expect and we knew we'd be seeing each other again in the next couple of months after Braden was done with his training and before the deployment to Iraq. We drove to the airport, hugged, kissed, cried, took pictures, and away he flew, into the unknown.

We talked daily. While Braden was in the states training he had a cell phone and easy access to pay phones, so things weren't that bad at the beginning. I sent him pics of our growing girl and my growing belly, along with lengthy emails detailing our days and how he was missed. Not too much of the missing stuff, though, as it helped none of us to dwell on that. We purchased a video camera right before he left and I documented with that as well.

Just a month and a half after Braden left, we had the opportunity to fly out to a city near his base and visit on one of his weekends off. Plane ticket prices were atrocious, but it was worth every penny and more to see him, hold him, and laugh with him again, just for a couple of days. In the days before we flew out, I went back and forth quite a bit, trying to decide if I should take my one year old with me or not. I decided to take her in the end and am so glad I did. She was such an angel the whole trip, sleeping most of the time every plane ride, and behaving so well all the rest of the time. She was so excited to see her daddy when he met us at the hotel and ran straight into his arms. We saw all the sights we could cram into the weekend and enjoyed ourselves immensely. Then came time to say good bye once again. This time was much, much harder. We now knew the loneliness, the aching, the changes we would be parting for, and we did not want it, but, like I said before, someone had to do it and it was a sacrifice we had to make.

My heart seemed to be ripping apart as we drove away to catch our flight the last morning of our trip. Braden stood at the curb of the hotel, his hand raised in farewell, visibly fighting back the tears. I cannot explain the emotions, they were too overwhelming to be able to put into words. All I can say is that I never wanted to feel them again. But there were more goodbye's to come, more new emotions to feel and learn from in the ensuing months.

The cab driver was friendly and tried to make conversation when we first began our drive, but I didn't trust myself to speak, or even think. I just sat staring out the window, my baby girl in my arms, struggling with tears and realizing Braden wouldn't hold his baby girl again for many more weeks. After that, who knew how long it would be before he felt her chubby little arms around his neck and her sweet little voice saying his name.

After we arrived at the airport it was easier. My mind was busy with checking luggage, finding our gate and entertaining a baby. Addy made a friend at the airport, a little boy about 3 years old who loved her bright green shirt and followed her all around the terminal. His parents ended up being retired from the Navy and they sympathized with my plight. I was ever grateful for someone who understood what it was like and gave such words of encouragement and hope. I needed it then and would rely on others more than ever as my true journey as a soldier's wife began.

A True Patriot

2008-07-06T19:03:00.000-07:00

This post is out of order of my "novel". I just want to write a bit about what it means for me to be a soldier's wife and a little bit about what I feel that title really means. My husband has been home from Iraq for 2 years, now. With the 4th of July just passed, I have been reflecting a lot on our country and what it means to be a part of it.

Today I watched my husband struggle to fight off the demons that are tormenting him inside. He is suffering from many issues that surfaced for him during his tour of duty in Iraq. I felt so helpless, at a loss for what to do, what to say, so I prayed. Heavenly Father heard my prayer and blessed me with a knowledge of how to heal, how to help. The answer was love. So is it worth it? What's the point of all of this? These wars, these politics, his service. My answer is yes, it's worth it. And the reason is love. This country and its government were founded by God. It was set apart by Him because of His great love for us, to be a place of freedom for those who were/are oppressed. For those very first pilgrims who traveled here from so far away, it was a place to truly love and serve God as He would have them do. America is still that place today, and will be forever more, as long as we continue to love and serve Him as he would have us do. The key, as always, is love.

So we sacrifice and serve to keep this country free. We sacrifice and serve because we love our country and the God who founded it. We sacrifice and serve because we love our families, friends, the Iraqi people and all people who suffer from oppression. We sacrifice and serve because it is our duty. And we pay a price, yet it is still worth it. The pain my husband suffers is not in vain. It is pain that shows he is human, that he feels, that he cares about what happens to his fellow men, American or not. He saw so much misery, so much hate, so much destruction that now it haunts him day and night. Is it worth it? Perhaps not to those who do not love. But when asked the question "Is it worth it?", my husband and I will answer, without hesitaition: "Yes." Because of Love.

Forging Bonds

2008-05-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

The next few weeks we tried to cram in every bit of "quality time" we could. We had a weekend away just the two of us up to a nearby ski resort where we had access to a condo. It was wonderful just being together out there in the near-wilderness, pretending life away and imagining that we would never be parted. Much of the rest of those few weeks are a bit hazy for me. I remember get-togethers with family and friends, an early Easter celebration, a few glitches with the guard and hoping he wouldn't have to go, finding out he did have to go (all over again!), and feeling very uptight, anxious and ornery. I'll blame some of that last bit on the pregnancy hormones, though I'm sure the thought of my husband leaving for a year and a half had something to do with it.

Through all this I remained fairly calm and collected, (besides the hormonal episodes, which were few and far between if I do say so myself). My heart ached most when I looked at my one year old daughter, Adelyn, and realized how much she had grown in so little time, how much her daddy would be missing, and how much she would be missing him. She was, and still is, her daddy's girl through and through. From the moment she came into this world his is the first face she focused on and the first fingers she touched (after the doctor and nurses were done with her).

Our little girl was a preemie and I was very sick and weak bringing her into this world. I remember the moment I first saw her and stroked her little, slimy, beautiful head. Then she was whisked away to her incubator in the nursery and I slept for many hours, but her daddy was by her side every minute he could be. I believe a bond was forged in those first precious moments between them of the kind that cannot be understood but by those who are part of it.

Many times over the course of our separation while Daddy was in Iraq, I saw a connection between them that was unexplainable and extraordinary. When Daddy was having a bad day, thousands of miles across the world, a little two year old girl would whine and cry for no apparent reason and need her daddy, for no one else could comfort her. When his phone call would come the next day and he told of his struggles, I would finally understand what had been wrong with my little girl! More than a few times she felt her daddy's pain and wanted so badly to comfort him on those hardest days. We watched our home videos of Daddy over and over again. I finally printed a small picture of him that she could have of her very own to carry around with her and keep in her crib at night. It's crumpled face and torn edges quickly attested to how much it - he - was loved by her.

Sharing the News

2008-05-04T19:54:00.001-07:00

As Braden's parents walked into the room, they could sense something was wrong. His mom looked at my puffy, red eyes in concern, but didn't say anything. Braden looked at me and said "Want to tell them the news?" "No" I said firmly. "I don't want to tell anyone." Braden obviously didn't want to tell them, either. After a few awkward moments, I told them about the phone call, not meeting their eyes as I did so. They sat in stunned silence for a moment and then the quesions began.

Braden had been called up into a unit that was not his own. The unit being called out was short a few people and Braden had been out of the country when his own unit had been deployed a year earlier, so his name was high on the list for possible fill-ins. Thus, the surprise at the call and the limited preparation time we all had before he was deployed. On the up-side, the unit he was going with had already been training for three months so his own deployment would be that much shorter in comparison to theirs. One looks for the up-side in these kind of situations.

The next few weeks went by in a blur. After I got over my own shock, I was able to tell my mom. I broke the news casually in her kitchen as she was preparing dinner. I didn't want everyone else to hear, to turn it into a big deal. After hearing the news, my mom immediately came and put her arms around me asking "Are you okay?" "Yeah," I said, not sure if it was really true. I had accepted it as something that was going to happen by then, and felt ready to face the challenge. Was I okay, though? I'm not sure if military wives are ever okay faced by the prospect of their husbands leaving for war. But we learn to find strength. We gain it from our faith, our family and friends, and our own personal support groups. It becomes merely something that has to be done, and we are the ones chosen to do it. There is little time or energy for self-pity or worry. Allowing those demons into our lives is too destructive and we are smart enough, and strong enough, to replace that with the truth that we are serving something much greater than ourselves.

With Braden's deployment I gained the knowledge and testimony of what freedom truly means, what things are worth sacrificing for. I gained an understanding that we who are so blessed in this great country have an obligation, an opportunity to serve others less fortunate than ourselves. We are no longer in a community, a city, or a country. We are a world full of the human race, needing each other to stand strong, to serve and to love. We are God's children, and as such, we are brothers and sisters fighting through this life in way one or another, and the more we can do for each other, the easier the fight and the better this world will be.

My dad's immediate reaction when he heard the news was to offer us a place to stay while Braden was gone. We'd had an offer in to buy a house, but I was too scared to try a new home, new neighborhood, a new baby and no husband, all at the same time. I gratefully accepted my dad's kind offer and soon after that the real preparations began.

The Call

2008-05-03T14:35:00.000-07:00

February 2005. I remember well the moment the call came. We were living at my in-laws, relaxing in the living room for a moment before heading to bed. I answered the telephone and a voice asked for Sgt. Ericksen. Calls often came for my husband from men in his battery as he was a member of a field artillery unit with the Army National Guard. I handed him the phone and then busied myself, unconcernedly, in the living room. As I was walking back toward the kitchen my husband stepped in front of me and held up a paper with the words he had just scribbled on it: "Iraq, March _".

My heart jumped into my throat and I whispered, "Are you serious?" He was a jokester and had teased me sometimes with the idea of his deployment, but this time I could tell it was different. He nodded his head as he continued to listen to the speaker on the other end. I immediately began sobbing and leaned into his chest, unable to control myself. He held me for a moment, but then pushed me away, not wanting the man on the phone to hear. I ran into the bedroom and closed the door, collapsing onto my bed in tears. How could this be happening? We usually heard rumors through the guard, which unit was being deployed next, when the next unit would be home. But this came with no warning at all. And I was 2 months pregnant with our second child. Would it ever know it's daddy? I pushed the thought out of my mind. Immediately I began to pray.

I poured out my soul to my Father in Heaven, pleading for strength and peace. I began to calm down. By nature I am not a very reactionary person, so for this to affect me as it did was unnerving. Soon I exited my bedroom and went to sit next to my husband, my soldier. His parents had been in the front room, reading together and had no idea what had been going on in their home the last few minutes.