1 year, 9 months, 27 days ago

The day I officially became a Marine mom was one of the longest days of my life. Little did I know the full impact of that proud but excruciatingly painful day. The most profound impact was on my perception of time. While boot camp for my son dragged out from the normal 13 weeks to 17 weeks since he had to spend three weeks in the medical platoon, the days for me seemed to become twice as long…the ticks of the clock more pronounced but ever so slow.

On July 13, 2009, I hugged my boy and watched him walk away from me into a future in which I would just be part of the periphery. It is a place to which I have yet to become fully accustomed. November 5, 2009, I once again hugged my boy, but this time I was second, holding back for his lovely sweetheart to get the first embrace. November 11, 2009, I watched as I officially became second in his life when my son married this beautiful girl who had been the daughter of my heart for two years already. April 8, 2011, we visited our son and his wife in their new home. Their excitement at owning their first home was contagious. The position of second began to fit a little better as I saw how utterly happy they are together.

And then…

A new date stamped its name on the calendar of my mind. April 11, 2011, I watched my son hand his wife his deployment orders. After she read them with a carefully guarded expression, I listened to them discuss the merits of the actual location to which he would be deployed. I was across the room and somehow the distance lengthened as the reality of the topic they were discussing ripped into my heart and burrowed into a wound that won’t seem to scab over.

There is no itchy evidence that this wound will get better. I keep it bound tightly, careful with every word and thought, trying not to peek at it. But still I am aware of it every minute of every day. There is nothing that the pain of this wound does not color. If I speak of the deployment my throat narrows, choking me with a fear so tangible I sometimes feel I can barely breathe. If I look forward to the birth of our newest grandchild, the probable absence of his uncle at his birth is the very next thought.

I spoke my fears aloud in church yesterday, haltingly, waiting for the crush of tears and fear to pass between each sentence. How the idea of someone aiming a weapon at my son, or setting a bomb that might destroy his transport is strangling me. I expected that the truth of the Word of God given to me by my friends might bring relief.

I was disappointed.

I am still devastated.

I am still terrified.

I wonder if the joy of the Lord will once again be my strength.

I wonder if there will come a time where the truth of His pure Love will speak peace to my soul again.

In the meantime, the tick of the clock is so very loud now. And it has sped up, hurrying to a date I do not yet know…a date which will crush me more than anything in my life ever has.

I HATE WAR!