The thoughts of an Army wife

Sometimes a month can feel like a day. When I look back on this summer I feel like it flew by with such Texas furry. And sometimes a month can feel like 2 years.


A month and a half ago I said, with the most pathetic attempt at strength, "see ya later" to the love of my life. We hugged the last hug we would have for a long time. His face squeezed so tightly against the side of mine in my last efforts to remember the smell of clothes, freshly washed hair, and ,what had been annoying up until now, stubble against my cheek.  I stood there, forcing myself with every ounce of Proverbs 31 strength I could find in my body and tearlessly blew kisses to him as he disappeared behind security.

A month ago I excused myself from a dinner in progress with my closest friends to take what, at the time, was the hardest phone call I'd ever forced a smiled through. We had an hour to talk.  An hour to tell him how much I adored him.  How proud I was of him. To pray over our marriage and the safety of the one man on earth I love with my whole heart.  It's surprisingly difficult to think of what to say when you only have one hour to talk to someone.  All the sudden "listen to this hilarious thing Kelsey said today" or "oh my gosh, this person cut me off today" seem like the silliest topics.


And then away he went.

Undoubtably, being an Army wife is THE hardest thing I have ever done.  I will not lie to you.  It. is. hard. I cry. I cry all the time. I pray that my God would calm my fears. And he does.  I pray that God would bring us peace.  And he does. I pray that God would remind me of his promises and undying love.  And he does. But I still miss him.  Every. single. day. I miss him.

I fall to pieces when I can't reach the bowl on the top shelf. When I (stupidly) try on a bathing suit in the dead of winter and I don't have my husband to say, "whatever baby! you're hott!". When I browse the Victoria Secret catalog and remember, "oh wait, am I going to wear this...forr...myself?" (sorry, mom). When I don't know how many miles its been since my last oil change, how to do the simplest things on a Mac, or am up to my eyeballs in paperwork about something I have NO idea how to handle.   When I try and fill the extra space in my bed with pillows or anything to not make it feel so empty.

Those are the hardest.

But I have hope.

We are not alone in this. God knew, before the creation of the universe, that he would bring Joel and I through this journey.  Like Paul, he has already set up for us a wellspring of strength for where he will take us. Like the Israelites, he provides for us every. single. day.  His mercies are new every.single.morning. Like a fellow military wife once commented, this is only thing that we are battling right now. We are healthy. We are very much in love. We are provided for.  We are financially taken care of.  We are able to eat.  We have a good place to rest our heads at night.  Those we love are provided for. The distance is the one thing.

So I continue to pray. Every. single. day.  I pray for Joel's protection.  In Jesus' name, send your angels to cover him from head to toe. May they spread out their wings and shield Joel physically, emotionally, and mentally from harm.  May not even a hair on his head be maimed. I pray in Jesus' name for a swift return.  In Jesus' name, may you give us both strength to survive every day. Build us up that we may conquer this with Your strength.  May this not overcome or overwhelm us, but make us stronger warriors of Your army of truth. Be the rock we stand on in the storm.  In Jesus' name, continue to bring peace among the nations so that the soldiers can come back. Jesus, he was Yours long before he was mine.  You are in control. You are on your throne.  Not a single day of this have you not foreseen or foretold.  Continue to bind us together in Your name.


May the Lord refine me through the fire,
Brittney Dumas