Sitting here Thanksgiving eve at my mother-in laws house, I find myself contemplating the start of the Holiday season. I love the holidays....the spirit, the snow, the music, the cheer, the nostalgia...all of it warms my heart and speaks to my soul. I love the house filled with family...cousins playing, Grandma's loving, and Papas getting into trouble with the kids. It's a feel-good moment.
The kids are winding down, getting ready for bed, anticipating the turkey, gravy, potatoes, and pie that they will indulge in tomorrow. Grandma is preparing dishes, ingredients and the such in the kitchen. And my hubby and I sit here looking out the window at the frozen tundra. All seems right...all seems complete...all seems joyous.
But in the quiet of my heart, there is a stirring...one that continues to disturb my sleep and haunt my days. No matter which house I spend Thanksgiving at next year, something- or someone- will be missing....my hubby; my boys' daddy. He will be spending his Thanksgiving- his second one- in a foreign country fighting for and defending our freedom. It's an honorable mission.....but my heart aches for his absence already. My soul is angry and bitter that we have to make this sacrifice.....again. Yes, it is his duty, and he answers the call gracefully and courageously. But my heart doesn't care about the glory in the mission. I want him here...with us. When you send a soldier on deployment there are many sacrifices that the family endures both big and small. The holidays are lonely...sad...nostalgic...and scary. There is no guarantee that your soldier is coming home. But as I sit here in the quiet of my mother-in laws family room....I can't help but wonder.....but worry...but give thanks that God allowed him to come home after the first war.....give thanks for the beautiful children he has made with me....give thanks for the amazing extended family that has welcomed me as one of their own....give thanks....and a couple prayers.