I wasn't sure where to start this post. There is SO much to be said in the "Lord, change me" part of my last blog post that I felt I needed to touch on.
I decided to wait on that and continue on with the main "story" leading up to our victory, and then speak of what the Lord taught me through it all in the remaining blog entries.
Through the prayers, and heart surrender of "Lord, change me", the Lord was really able to change the way I responded to J, and all of the pain that I was holding in my heart. He was replacing bitterness, fear, and resentment with trust - trust in God's sovereignty. He was replacing a quick tongue with gentleness. He was replacing sarcasm with words of peace, and encouragement. A bad attitude was replaced with a sweet one.
My words were NEVER able to change J's heart. They never changed his mind, never helped him suddenly see the error of his ways, never made him agreeable to "my way". They never made him want to be a better man. In fact, it did the opposite. It made him dig deeper, stand his ground, and puff his chest even bigger! Any negative words out of my mouth could send him into a frenzy!! So, when it boiled down to it, what good were my words? No amount of crying, begging, pleading, pouting or shaming ever softened my husband's heart. Once God opened my eyes to this simple truth, he was able to replace my words with prayer. Over and over again when I wanted to speak "words of wisdom" into my husband's life - when I wanted to tell him the error of his ways - I decided it would be better to just shut up & pray.
Early months of 2012 were sweet. J had given his heart to Christ that February. Work was slow, and he seemed to be enjoying our new little country church. He was very faithful in his attendance, and I could tell through his prayers that he was growing in Christ. He didn't have a drink in months, and it seemed his anger was diminishing. It felt as though we were on the road to healing, it was nice to catch a breath of fresh air.
That summer, training started again. The first couple of trips were uneventful - he stayed in God's word, and refused to drink. But week after week of late nights, and long days, he fell short of staying in God's word. He was too tired, and often rushed to work straight out of bed. Training was hard, weakening his devotional life, and quiet time spent with God.
In a weak moment, he slipped during one of his trips that February 2013. Instead of "getting back up", the guilt overwhelmed him and he thought to himself, "why try"? He felt like a failure, and thought maybe this so called "christian life" wasn't right for a guy in his occupation. He didn't see how a trained warrior could do what he does, and still walk with God.
So he started drinking, again. He was on this trip for 7 weeks. It was actually 2 trips, with him being home for a whole 18 hours in between.
He decided that since he "couldn't" stop drinking, that there was no point in talking to me while he was away. He felt like a failure. He didn't talk to anyone in his life (with the exception of the men he was working with), avoiding everyone's texts/calls.
After 4 weeks of silence, I finally got a call from him. I think it was a pocket dial… I could hear loud music, and voices. I knew he was at a bar.
This time around, he belonged to God. When you are God's child, he loves you as his child, and like a loving father does, he disciplines his children when they are not doing right.
During this time in early 2013, my heart was becoming numb. Here I thought he had changed - his drinking stopped for months, and we were having so much fun as a family. His faithfulness in church was such a blessing, such an encouragement. I felt my life was becoming a "yo yo" - up and down so much that my head was starting to spin. During that time, I started to shut J off.
I continued trusting God, and praying for him. But instead of sleeping with my phone to make sure he was alright, I turned off the ringer and went to bed. I didn't call him during the day. I didnt try to encourage him, or let him know that I loved him. It was almost like I was going into survival mode. Mentally, I couldn't deal with his instability anymore.
March 25, 2013
He was driving home with his guys from Indiana. He drank the ENTIRE TRIP. He called me over and over and over again, playing me songs from his IPOD that reminded him of the friends that were lost - their favorite songs, and certain songs that brought back certain memories that they shared together.
By evening, I was over it. Instead of being "tolerant" and listening to his stupid songs on speaker phone, I simply told him, "J, you have GOT to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Doing this on every stupid trip will NOT bring ANYONE back. Their families have probably moved on, and healed more than you have! You are just using them as an EXCUSE to do as you please, and I'm over it, so stop playing me this stupid music!"
Well, remember the "shut up and pray"?? Yeah, I kinda forgot all about that at the time….
So…needless to say he didn't take that very well. You could even say he exploded. The quiet sulking he was doing on that drive home turned into rage.
He told one of the guys to just bring him to his house, because he didn't want to go home. I didn't care.
11:00 pm, my phone rings. I answered it. He was drunk as a skunk. He didn't humble himself enough to ask me to come get him, but he kept saying that he had a headache, and blah blah blah. So I finally swallowed my pride and asked if he wanted me to come and get him, to which he responded, "only if you want to". Oh yes, please let me. There's nothing more I'd like to do than leave my warm bed and get my drunk husband again.
So I got out of bed, shut my bedroom door, snatched my robe off the hanger, and as I put my slippers on I looked up at the ceiling and started literally shouting up to God, "It has been NINE LONG YEARS! I promised you I would hold on, and I HAVE!!! But Lord, please, HOW LONG AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THIS??? MY BABIES ARE GROWING UP (they are now 11, and 9) AND THEY NEED A GODLY FATHER!!!! Please, in Jesus name, let THIS be the night it STOPS. I don't care WHAT you have to do, just please, make this stop!!! Please, protect my babies, but as far as J is concerned, do what you need to do because I am TIRED!!!!" I was so loud, I can't believe I didn't wake the kids.
Knowing the state he was in, I couldn't decide if I should wake them, or let them sleep. I decided I would say a prayer, and let them stay in their little beds. It was a 15 minute drive to this man's house.
I prayed, yelled, and cried the entire drive there. Continuing to ask God to deliver us THIS NIGHT. It was my specific request.
When I pulled into the driveway, he and his "friend" came out. The were both SMILING with a "hey, let me introduce you to my wife" kind of look on their faces. This made me want to puke, so I rolled my eyes.
Again, remember the lesson God was teaching me in replacing my attitude with a good one? Yeah, I kind of forgot all about that one, too. So, because I didn't "smile" back at them, he became very angry. He got into the car, and threw his beer bottle into my windshield. He then proceeded to punch my window (hurting only his hand!!). He continued to yell the entire drive home, calling me ungrateful, and all sorts of words. Nothing he said made any sense. He saw a can of HIS OWN chew on the console, and asked if I was having an affair? He then accused me of having an affair with my 60 something year old African American neighbor. (Yeah, I'm SURE he chews the same brand of snuff as he does.)
We got through the front door. He went into the kitchen. I desperately wanted him to calm down so that he didn't wake the kids, so I asked him if he wanted something to eat? He continued talking about things that I had NO idea about…. lyrics of songs, etc… Then he walked over to the refrigerator. I saw him look up, and my heart started pounding… I knew what he wanted. He was looking for our 9mm pistol.
Sure enough, he reached for it. I calmly asked him to put it down. He just held it in his hands, and caressed the barrel.
He looked at me and said, "Do you know how much I love you??" Then he started walking towards me, gun in hand and pointed right at me. The man could barely stand, or walk straight, yet here he was walking towards me holding a loaded pistol, finger on the trigger.
I was backed up into the wall as he continued to talk, "I know I keep messing up. I don't know how to stop. All I ever wanted was for you to love me…"
In that moment all I could picture was his hand slipping, and that bullet going straight into my stomach. The sound would wake my children, who would find their mother dying at the hand of their father. Then J would have to live with that his entire life! I knew deep down in my heart how much that man loves me, and I didn't want it to end like this! I didn't want him, or our boys to have to live with that kind of pain.
I still had my winter coat on. I reached into my pocket, and dialed 911. I didn't speak, but I allowed the dispatcher to hear me continually say, "J, put the gun down, baby. J, put the gun down…"
I talked J down, and he handed me the gun. I quickly took the mag out (including the chambered round), and hid it in my plant.
He told me he loved me, then started down the hall to go to bed.
That's when I heard it. Another shot from the bedroom (we have another gun hidden in there). I didn't know what happened…. did my husband just shoot himself??? Is his head in tiny pieces all over our room??? Will my babies wake up to find this??? Did the bullet ricochet into the other bedrooms and hit one of my children?? I had 100 thoughts race through my head in under 1 second! I saw my eldest son peak around the corner. The gun shot woke him up. I gently said, "baby, go back to bed right now and don't get up. Everything is ok! Just please go back to bed."
In that same moment the dog started barking… everything happened so fast. I opened the door to let her out so that she didn't wake up my youngest son. Just as I did that, the police grabbed me. Apparently they were out there, and they heard the shot. They locked me into the back of their patrol car, and put my dog in the patrol car across the street. Seconds later, there were about 6 police cars in our little culdesac. I asked them, "please, let me out. My child is awake and is probably scared to death!!"
All I could do was beg God, "GOD, PLEASE DON'T LET HIM FIND HIS DADDY LIKE THAT!!!"
They refused to let me out, for the sake of my "safety". I asked them to please get my babies out of the house, and they refused to do that. They thought J perhaps barricaded himself, and would shoot the first person who walked through the door.
Moments later, the SWAT team showed up. They started putting "spikes" behind all of the cars in the culdesac, and loading their assault rifles. As I sat there, helpless, in the back of a squad car, I listened to the continuous sound of armed men in uniform clicking their magazines into place, and pointing their assault rifles straight at my little house. The house that held everyone I loved most in this entire world. Nothing on earth was more precious to me than what was inside that little house, and here they were pointing their guns, and surrounding it with attack dogs.
I didn't know if my husband was dead, or alive. If he were dead, surely our son would have found him by now. Surely my baby is awake, and scared. Will he walk out the door? Will he be accidentally shot?? How was this going to affect the rest of his little life??
If J was alive… he was drunk, and incapable of making responsible decisions! Would he react to the threat that was around him?? He was trained to react, how could he not?? Would he begin to shoot, and have them return fire on our home?? Our youngest child's bedroom window was right there in the front facing all of those assault weapons!!! If he came out, surely he would have his gun! He would be shot dead in our front yard - a yard that was once full of laughter and fun times. Would those sweet memories be replaced with tragedy?
Would I have to watch my husband be shot down? Was he already dead??
Those thoughts were racing through my mind a mile a minute. I did all I knew to do. PRAY.
I prayed out loud, in front of the officer in the front seat. She probably thought I was a little nut-so. I claimed the blood of Jesus over our home, over my family. I prayed that through the blood, no harm would come near to my family, and that this would end in peace. I thanked him for answering my prayer - that I knew in my heart that this was "the night it would all end", and this had to happen. I just kept praying over and over that only good would come from it, and that no harm would come near to my family. I begged God to be merciful to us!"
As I prayed, I felt God's peace. It was then I knew in my heart that my husband was not dead. I knew he was passed out. He almost passed out before they got there… surely he passed out, and that's why he is not responding to their calls on the loud speakers.
I continued to pray, "Lord, wake Jim up. Please protect him. Please wake him up and bring him out safely…" over and over. For four long hours I prayed.
By this time his Troop leader came. I asked the officer if she would please let me out to talk to him. She agreed. I tried to make small talk, but as soon as she turned her back I took off like lighting towards my house in hopes of waking my husband, and giving comfort to my son who I just KNEW was wide awake this entire time. I made it about 20 feet before I was tackled to the ground wearing my silk pajamas pants which were almost pulled to the ground! (I have it a nice try).
She put me back into the car, this time rolling down the window for me to talk to his troop leader.
I told them how certain I was that my husband was asleep. I was confident that was the reason he wasn't responding…. he didn't hear them!! Once he's out, he's out! Drunk, or not.
He encouraged them to allow him to go into the house to try to wake J up. He was afraid of how J would react if he felt threatened in any way. He was trained to well, kill, and he was good at it.
After about 5 hours, I hear some commotion. I couldn't see exactly what was happening, but it appeared as though the officers were scrambling around. That's when I could see him. It was J!!! He was tazed 3 times before being tackled to the ground. He even punched the attack dog straight in the head!
They handcuffed him, and let me out of the car. I ran up to him, and with pure relief I said his name. He responded with, "I hate you! Don't be here when I get back!" They put him the car, and drove him to the Naval Hospital.
The police and I walked through the house. It appeared that J shot his pistol straight into the dog bed. The thick padding prevented a ricochet from the concrete slab that our house is built on.
My baby came out of his room. As I had suspected, he was up the entire night. He heard everything… the speakers, the sound of the SWAT team surrounding his home. He obeyed, and stayed in his bed, God bless him. He too, prayed the entire time. God heard his prayers. Praise God my youngest slept through the whole thing!
I later learned that after a few hours had passed, he decided to go try to wake up his daddy. With a gentle voice, he touched his daddy's back and said, "daddy, there are men out there that want to talk to you". When J finally awoke, he grabbed his gun. (This is not unusual. I am married to a soldier who is also a pure country boy. I have NEVER known J to answer the door without his weapon concealed. At night, it is always in his hand if he knows someone is out there. It's just the way he is; very protective.)
With gun in hand, confused, he walked towards the door. He looked out, and didn't see anybody. He asked our son, "are you sure you heard something? Where's momma?". With the alcohol still in him, he didn't react as he usually would. He said, "Hang on, I have to pee". So, he laid the gun down on the desk, and used the bathroom. NOT REMEMBERING TO PICK THE GUN BACK UP, he proceeded right out the door, and that's when the officers detained him.
PRAISE GOD HE PUT DOWN THAT GUN!!! That in itself is NOTHING short of a miracle!!! Thank God for my little boy who had such wisdom!!!!
A very frightening night, but it was just what it took to get the help we so desperately needed . NOW his command could no longer shove this under the rug! It was right there in black and white! There is no hiding this, or there would be consequences!! The police were now in on it, and so was the hospital. THANK GOD!
GOD IS SO GOOD!!
J was due that May to go back to Afghanistan. But instead, we went to Bethesda Naval Hospital. They have a 5 week program there called NICOE. What a blessing!!! They specialize in Traumatic Brain Injuries, and PTSD. PHENOMENAL facility. Our boys went to stay with my parents for those 5 weeks. This was a TREMENDOUS time of healing between J and I. I will forever cherish the time we had there.
J was now in a leadership position, and desperately wanted to be overseas with the men he trained to fight. The thoughts of them going to war "without their leader" was a huge burden on him. What if something were to happen to one of them, and he was back here in the "cushy" states getting high end treatment? This was not sitting right with him.
Nevertheless, he did his best to cooperate with the doctors there, but in the back of his mind he was thinking, "I just need to get through this so that I can get back to my guys". There was little remorse for what happened. Little acknowledgment of the fact that he needed help. What happened just two short months ago was more of a distant memory, with little consequence.
We made friends with a young couple that we were staying with us in the Fisher House. They were in their early twenties. He was a young marine who at the age of twenty-two, had already seen his share of fighting. He had severe PTSD. During a thunderstorm one afternoon, we found him hiding in the stairwell, covering his ears as he rocked back and forth. It was heartbreaking.
During one of the therapy sessions, the men were asked to write a poem, draw a picture, or make a piece of art out of clay. They could also make a mask, which is what J chose. The young marine wrote a poem.
After class, the teacher pulled J aside and showed him the poem. The man wrote of bass fishing, with family memories, and days gone by… but ended the poem as a suicide note.
The teacher asked J to reach out to him that night in the Fisher House.
J and I asked the marine and his wife to join us for dinner. It was a beautiful facility, so we grilled outside, and sat around the quiet table under the gazebo.
After dinner, J and the marine went around the house to the large front stairs, and J had a talk with him. He told him that he read his poem. J is a great leader, and that quality stands out with him (which I'm sure is the reason he was asked by an almost stranger to help this young man).
The marine listened intently.
Later in our room, I asked J how it went. He told me it went really well; that the young man seemed very encouraged and eager to get back on track. I asked him what he said to him? J responded, "I just told him that he had to let his burdens go. That was the only way to heal. I told him that he didn't ever have to forget the things he'd been through; he wasn't supposed to just forget about the buddies he lost. He earned the right to mourn them. He earned the right to hurt. But, he had to use his hurt, his pain, and their losses to make him stronger, not weaker. Instead of allowing pain to break him, he has to find a way to make that pain mold him into a better man. I told him he needed to release that pain, that guilt, and those losses into God's hands, and from now on let God carry that burden. Find out how to use that pain for good - to help others that are hurting. He has seen firsthand how short life can be, and he needed to keep that at the front of his mind, and be thankful for his family. I told him he was blessed to have a woman that is sticking beside him through all of this, but that his wife and daughter needed him to be a man. He should allow experiences to develop character and integrity instead of hiding behind some label called PTSD. I told him he could lick this, that it doesn't have to be something that cripples him, or makes him weak. He doesn't need to hide from it either. He needs to embrace it all, and just find a way for it to make him stronger, and he can only do that if he first releases it to God, instead of trying to do it all alone."
"Hmmm….", I said, "looks as though you know exactly what to do then, J. Problem is, right now it's head knowledge with you. You know EVERYTHING to do, but that knowledge needs to make it's way down from your head, and into your heart."
He starred into my eyes for about 10 seconds, smiled, and then said, "hush". Yup, that's my hubby for you.
That was it. We prayed together that night, and God moved that knowledge from his head, into his heart.
The next morning he went to his meetings, and went through his testing not because he had to, but because HE WANTED to. He smiled. He joked. He reached out, and helped the other guys around him, pointing them to God the entire remainder of our stay.
He was diagnosed with severe PTSD, and five TBI's. The scans show black shadows all over his brain that even the best Neurologist cannot explain. They do not know what this means for his future.
God was faithful to J. He healed his heart, and allowed him to return to his men after his stay at NICOE. J was able to lead those men in physical battle as he trained them to do, but something even greater happened. He shared his experience. He told them all GOD delivered him from, and told them that God could do that for them, too. He named every mission after a book of the Bible, and even read a verse to go with it. He had those guys searching through God's word trying to find the next verse they could use for their next op. Before the mission, J lead them in prayer. They even had Bible verses printed out and posted on their doors.
Verses such as Psalms 44:5 became their theme verse:
"Through thee will we push down our enemies: through thy name will we tread them under that rise up against us."
Hey, they were verses, and it caused these men to search scripture. Seeds were planted!
J found joy in talking about God. It was liberating to no longer be afraid of looking "weak" by talking of his deliverer! Yes, even the bravest of men need to be delivered!
He no longer felt it was "weak" to say NO to liquor.
He finally understood that the very best way to lead these men was by living a life of surrender - giving complete control of his life, his desires and his deepest needs, over to God.
It has been 3 years since our stay at NICOE. J is a different man. He has not TOUCHED any alcohol. God took his desire away! He reads his Bible EVERY SINGLE DAY, sometimes more than once. He prays with the boys, and continually points them to Christ.
He has been faithful in prayer meetings, as well as other church activities, and even looks forward to them! His whole demeanor has changed; he looks 10 years younger.
His personality has changed forever. Living life with PTSD, and five TBIs can sometimes be very challenging for him, and for those around him.
Three of the five brain lesions are in the area in his brain that effect his coping skills. The impact of his injuries also include difficulties with attention, his memory, his ability to concentrate. He is easily distracted, and is sometimes slow in processing information. Sometimes he will pause when he is speaking, but is not finished (this can be frustrating for the listener, i.e. his wife). Sometimes he will be talking then will suddenly remember something. He will completely stop the conversation and get up to do the thing he just remembered.
He loses his balance easy. He has night sweats unlike anything I have ever seen, yet the doctors have no idea why. (they are actually very concerned about this, and are currently trying to find help for it). He sometimes has blurred vision, or double vision and is very sensitive to the sunlight. He also gets extreme hot flashes that menopausal women can't hold a candle to!
He is often irritable, lacks motivation, can sometime be aggressive. His tones are sometimes very harsh without even realizing it.
Every so often he will slip into a depression. Praise God it only lasts for a couple of days before he forces himself to snap out of it. He is extremely strong willed, and in cases like this I am extremely thankful for that hard head of his.
He suffers from severe headaches EVERY SINGLE DAY. There is not a day that goes by that his head is not hurting.
Even with all his challenges, he was the only man who left that facility with no pills. When others would ask why he wouldn't accept the pills, he replied, "Because I found out that the only pill I really need is the GOSpill".
His symptoms haven't miraculously disappeared. He still has the struggles that TBI brings. The thing that is different, is that he has learned that he must turn them over to God daily. He will sometimes be overwhelmed with feelings of frustration, and sometimes anger, but now he is able to recognize them quickly and surrender them over to God. When he is overwhelmed, stressed, angry or irritable, you will find him at the kitchen table having "quiet time" with his Bible in front of him. No, his symptoms aren't gone, but he now knows what to do with them!
I praise GOD for all he has done! I wouldn't change a thing. God has been faithful to us. He has kept his promises! He has heard the cries of our heart. J and I both are now able to share what God has done for us, and allowed us to encourage others who may be going through similar situations.
Though this, J has had several opportunities to speak in churches nationwide. He has been able to give testimony of God's grace, patience, healing and forgiveness! It doesn't matter what you've done, God can and will deliver you if you call on HIM!
I too, have had several speaking engagements, sharing with others of the power of prayer, God's mercy, and healing.
J feels a strong call to the ministry once his time in the military is over. We don't know what exactly that will entail, but we are SO excited to see what he has in store for us!
God has taught us SO much, and is still teaching us today. I can't wait to share ALL that he has done in our hearts; that's the most exciting part, and I hate to stop here! But, this has probably been the longest post thus far.
So, until next time, I will just leave you with this verse:
"My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into diverse temptations (trials of many kinds); knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience (the testing of your faith produces perseverance). But let patience have her perfect (complete) work, that ye may be perfect in entire, wanting nothing (mature, complete). If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God that giveth to all men liberally… but let him ask in FAITH, nothing wavering." James 1:2-6a
"The christians that God can use the most are those whom God has bruised the most."
At some point, we all become bruised. The amount of true growth in our christian walk is determined with what you do with that bruising. Will you become bitter, or better?
Monday, February 1, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
Contentious, or Virtuous? part 4
J missed the memorial service for his friend due to the fact that he wasn't due back from Iraq until that May which only added to the guilt that only one in his shoes can understand.
During the following months, the burden J carried was evident, yet he managed to keep it at bay. Our summer was filled with many activities we enjoy such as four wheeling, fishing and camping. Things at work were slow that summer, so J was able to relax a lot at home.
His nightmares occurred more often, and were becoming more intense. He was also starting to withdraw socially. Outings with friends became more of a burden than a pleasant activity, and having any people in the house proved to be extremely stressful for him. Because our family time was few and far between, I welcomed the quiet lifestyle.
After the summer of 2007, he went back to work. Things started going downhill again.
Right at the entrance of the building, they made a huge mural of all the men they had lost. He walked past those faces first thing every morning, and couldn't shake the haunting feelings that followed him throughout the rest of the day. He started drinking again. This time first thing in the morning. Upon arrival to work, unbeknownst to anyone else, he put Jim Beam (which he stored in his locker) in his coffee mug before starting the day. Day in and day out. The alcohol was his way of escaping the burden he was carrying.
Starting each day with alcohol, he would often just continue the trend and not even bother to come home after work. There were so many evenings I would watch the sun start to set, and my heart would start pounding in my chest. I knew in my heart he wasn't coming home, and that the night would somehow end very badly. Several things could happen. A: He could go home with another woman, or B: Drive home drunk to me. He could possibly get killed on the way, kill someone else, get a DUI, or C: I would have to drag my children out, find him, and bring him home.
I confess there were times I was tempted to leave him be, hoping he gets that DUI. Sometimes I didn't care either way what happened to him. But, deep down underneath my pain, I also knew there was a man who needed me.
So with a pounding heart, and anger in my veins, I would walk into that bar (children by my side), and bring my husband home. Sometimes he had women on him (which I've been known to shove aside on more than one occasion). Sometimes he'd be alone in a dark corner. But funny thing is, no matter how I found him, he was always happy to see me, and never fought coming home.
(I was always afraid of how deeply my children would be affected by these things, but God is greater than our mistakes. He is greater than our past, and God loves my children more than I do. He has been good, and my children, praise God, do not even remember these times! More on that later. )
During these times, it seemed J's biggest regret was not being there at the memorial service for his friend. It was also weighing very heavy on him that he, along with another man, had to drag (due to their physical exhaustion that night) their friend's body, rather than carry it to the Bradley Vehicle. Dragging a fellow comrade who gave his life was a tremendous burden of guilt that was becoming unbearable for him.
I did some research, and was able to contact the parent's of his friend who was KIA. I called them, and was able to talk with them. I told them about the feelings that J was struggling with, and I asked if we might pay them a visit? They were very gracious, and welcomed us asap! So, in the dead of winter & 9" of snow, we made the 19 hour drive to visit with his family. My father in law was very sweet to come up and stay with our two little ones that week, allowing Jim and I to use that much needed time to reflect, and heal.
The trip to visit his friend's family/ home town proved to be very healing! His parent's were so welcoming. We stayed in his home, looked through family albums, got a personal tour of his bedroom, high school, and met many family friends. J shared with them the guilt he was carrying for having to drag, rather than carry, their son's lifeless body. They shared tears, and hugs and assured J they were eternally grateful that he brought their son home, no matter how he had to do it.
His parent's graciously gave us the dvd recording of his memorial service. When J and I were alone that night, we watched it together, and for the first time in my life, I heard my husband cry. He wept, deeply. What a release. I am so grateful for that moment, and will cherish that trip always.
But even after getting closure, things grew steadily worse.
2008 - 2012 seems to be a blur of drunken nights (always away from home) that almost always included women, bar fights, ANGER, lying, pure deceit.
More war. More death. Attending the funerals of friends/ fellow soldiers was becoming a regular way of life. The times at home he began growing angry. Spills, crying, dogs barking… noise brought him to great anger. If I were to say anything he didn't like, his temper always roared. It was hard trying to keep a perfect home, and quiet little boys to appease him.
It was my birthday, 2009.
I haven't heard from my husband all day. Around 9:00 pm, I received a phone call from the hospital in Memphis. A man that worked with J told me that my husband was coming home, and that I was to meet him at the hospital in the next few hours. He apparently got into a fight with a biker gang and had his face kicked in. His face was crushed, and his eye was dropping, requiring immediate surgery in order to save his eye. Thankfully, a friend was readily available to take our children to her home for the night, and graciously brought them to school the next morning.
When I got to the hospital, J was very angry. His heart was very hard. He was very rude, unloving, and bitter towards me. He didn't allow me to comfort him. He didn't draw closer to me during this trial; he made himself distant. He was breaking my heart.
My birthday, 2010.
Again, I haven't heard from my husband all day. That night, around 11:30 pm, I got a call from the Kentucky jail. "Your husband has been locked up. Please call his chief asap and let him know where he is, so they can come and get him out."
(Yeah, sure I will. I think I'll just wait till the next morning before I make that phone call. It'll be better if I just let him sit a bit…)
2011-2012
He was on the road all of the time. Two weeks in, two weeks out was the norm. Every trip away came more drunken calls through all hours of the night, making it very hard to be the mom I needed to be the next morning. I was exhausted.
When the sky grew dark at night, my heart would pound in my chest not knowing what that night would bring.
Sometimes it brought more phone calls from the police. Sometimes it was the voices of women gathering around my husband at a bar. Other times it was J, speeding from the cops at 90 mph - without headlights - going down dark, Mississippi roads running from the cops (this happened more than once). He would literally put me on speaker phone and sit his phone on the dashboard while yelling, "Hold on, baby… the po po can't get me"!
I would just get on my knees, and beg God not to let him hit a telephone pole, or another car.
He would call me after a bar fight, laughing as he ran through the streets from the scene bragging about how the "other guy mouthed off to the wrong person". Fist fights. Knife fights.
Not all nights were as violent. Many nights he'd call me crying from his hotel room. Asking me to "hold" him as he slept. He would hold the phone, as would I, hundreds of miles away.
I wouldn't go to sleep until I heard the sound of his breathing get heavy as he drifted away. There were trips he couldn't function. At night, he was afraid. What started out as "a drink to help sleep at night" now became a way of life - a way to "chase the demons".
Life was becoming increasingly difficult, especially with him being on the road so much.
He would often ask me to come to him. Willingly, I would pack my bags, bring my children to their grandma's, and meet him wherever he happened to be during that time.
Once I got there, the drinking would stop. I was his comfort. With me at his side, he could then sleep soundly through the night. He found comfort in my presence. He found comfort in being home. The problem was that I couldn't be there all the time, and with his job he would be away from his home quite often!
He needed to find comfort in God, alone. God was the only one who would never leave his side; He is the only one who can give true comfort, and peace. Peace can only be found in the one who gives it. "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, nether let it be afraid." (John 14:27)
Again, while he was at home, things were very different. He didn't drink within these walls. Every so often he'd go to the bar rather than coming home after work, but he didn't actually drink here. The alcohol is what brought the demon out, so I am very thankful he left that at work, or for the most part, on the road. Very often it felt as though I were married to two complete people. The husband that was on the road, and the husband I lived with.
There was not much help for J at the time. There was a point (not sure the dates because they all seem to run together after some point) that I talked to his chief. He promised to check on J, but J told him that he "was fine", so that was good enough for him. Another time, I brought it up a level and called his troop chief. I told him J was having a "hard time", and that it seemed he was struggling with PTSD, etc… I explained that his drinking was heavy, and that he was literally going to work drinking Jim Beam. I told him how he locks himself in his hotel room, drinking himself to sleep EVERY TRIP. I told him of the fights, the running from cops. He laughed and said, "Honey, we ALL are fighting our own demons. It's the ways of the job". That was that.
So, I decided to go all the way up the ladder, and I personally called the Command Master Chief (which is kind of a big 'no no'). I asked him if it was okay with him that his men were drinking on the job, even at times while using a loaded weapon??
Long story short… No help, no concern. They all carried a "tough guy/ warrior" persona, and it was "weak" to be anything less. Their expectations of their men were unrealistic. They are men, not robots, yet they were expected to perform as such. No emotion. No fatigued. No regrets. No weakness.
2012 was an answer to a 8 year prayer.
J had an exceptionally difficult trip, and was arriving home that evening. I asked a dear friend if she would please keep the boys for me a night, which she graciously did.
I picked him up from the airport, and as usual, he had been drinking. I brought him home, and we had a quiet dinner. He sobered up, and I asked him if he wanted to watch a movie (I had a little trick up my sleeve). He said yes. I popped some popcorn, and put in the dvd.
The movie was "Courageous". If you haven't seen it, I encourage you to do so. It is a powerful movie, with an emphasis put on fathers. It is a movie with deep conviction, encouraging men to rise up, and be the MAN God has created/called them to be.
The first thing J asked at the beginning of the movie was, "is this one of those cheesy christian movies with bad acting?". He was less than thrilled, but, trying to appease me he rolled with it.
About half way through the movie, he rolled over off of his bean bag, got on his knees right there, and wept. For a good 15-20 minutes he just wept, begging God to forgive him. I rubbed his back in silence, looking up toward the ceiling with a BIG smile on my face. All I could do was thank God!
J acknowledged his sins, repented, and asked God to forgive him.
He always claimed to know the Lord, but that day was different. It was true repentance - true brokeness. J humbled himself and admitted his weaknesses and his failures, and made the decision to turn from them. He accepted God's free gift - forgiveness of sins, bought and paid for by the sinless, precious blood of Jesus. He acknowledged his need for a saviour!
He says that he "felt his burden lift off of his shoulders". He felt completely different… light hearted, happy. He started to read his Bible every day. He read to the boys voluntarily. He brought us out of our home church (which was fairly large), to a very small church where he felt he could be held more accountable. The pastor's burden in this small church (of approximately 20 people) was discipleship to new christians. His growth in the Lord was evident to all around him.
As he grew in the knowledge of God, he also grew in his love for Him. He was thankful for his new found joy.
However, there was still a struggle deep in his heart. Although we were now on a different path, this was certainly not the end of our hardships. The scars of war were still there, and they had to be addressed in their own way.
Though he repented of his sin and wrong doings, he was still holding on to a part of his heart, his pain. He confessed his sins, yet didn't completely surrender his LIFE, his guilt, his fears.
These last eight years were hard, and they were not yet over. The struggles continued, until that "one dark night it all came to a roaring head" (stay tuned!).
Unbeknownst to us, there were also unseen, physical injuries that comes from serving 39 months of war which effected his thinking, his reasoning, and his reactions.
Eight years of pain have built up until this point. The days were long, and hard. Feelings of resentment, and bitterness sometimes welled up inside me. The temptation to leave was sometimes great. There were times I literally imagined myself ripping off his face, and walking away never to look back. There were times I felt as though I hated him. Sometimes the very words that came from his mouth, even his laughter, made me nauseous.
I hated his job, and all it represented. I hated that his leaders did nothing to help him. I hated that they made his "lifestyle" so easy for him; the refrigerators at work were continually stocked with beer. With every reward came a 6 pack.
It was also easy to resent that he was "a hero" to so many. If they only knew what a jerk he was…
Day after day, year after year. Same ol, same ol. Our children were growing older. It was getting more difficult to hide things from them. Is this the father they deserved? Certainly not. Was it fair for him to treat me this way?? NO. He was rude, inconsiderate, harsh, unloving, and unkind. There were times he was verbally abusive. He was an adulterer. He broke my trust.
But PRAISE GOD that he has never asked us to put our trust in man. Not even our husbands! He has simply asked us to trust HIM. HE is the only who will never leave you. HE is the one who will never fail. HE is the one who will never hurt you, or break your heart.
Our human understanding is so flawed… how foolish we are to believe that man/ women will never hurt us.
I had to trust GOD for the path He has chosen for me. I had to TRUST HIM with the husband he had given to me. I had to put ALL my trust in GOD ALONE, not J. I had to surrender my husband to HIM, and just LET GO of our circumstances. I had to BE STILL.
Sure, what he was doing was very wrong. I COULD refuse to allow J to treat me this way. I had every RIGHT to be bitter, and I certainly had every right to be angry! I had the right to leave him, and I don't think anybody would fault me for it.
Or, I could surrender my rights, and trust my God to take care of me. I could trust that He is sovereign, and nothing has happened that He did not allow for my own good. I could trust that "all things work together for good" (Romans 8:28). I could CHOOSE to "in everything give thanks" (1 Thes. 5:18), and to "not worry about anything, but by prayer and THANKSGIVING make my requests be known unto God" (phil. 4:6-7).
If I stood on my rights, then our marriage would inevitably end in divorce. My children would be reared in a broken home for the remainder of their lives, including when they themselves are parents. Their children would, too, be forced to visit various "sets" of grandparents, and broken homes. Step mothers, step fathers, step sisters, step brothers, etc… We would have shared custody - two homes, two bedrooms, split vacations, holidays…
I knew this was not the legacy I wanted my children to have. I wanted to leave a legacy of VIRTUE. GODLINESS. STRENGTH, and VICTORY IN JESUS. I didn't want to teach my children to run when life gets hard. I wanted them to see that GOD ANSWERS PRAYER. I wanted my children to see God's glory through their parent's brokeness more than I wanted to cling to "my rights". I wanted to CLING TO THE PROMISES OF GOD.
God told me I had to TRUST AND OBEY.
Obey what? His word. The way HE instructs us to think, to act, to speak, to love, to forgive. Like J, I too, had to surrender "my ways".
I knew I had to change the way I prayed. I no longer made my husband the length and the focus of my prayers. Yes, I continued to pray for him, but the focus - the petition of my heart - changed from "Lord, change him", to "Lord, change ME…"
Proverbs 14:1 says, "Every wise woman builds her house, but the foolish plucks it down with her hands".
I had a choice… would I be the "contentious woman" that the Bible warns so much about (argumentative, open to debate), or the wise, virtuous (good, pure, gentle, noble, respectable) woman God so highly praises? Would I tear down my house? Or build it up?
To be continued…
During the following months, the burden J carried was evident, yet he managed to keep it at bay. Our summer was filled with many activities we enjoy such as four wheeling, fishing and camping. Things at work were slow that summer, so J was able to relax a lot at home.
His nightmares occurred more often, and were becoming more intense. He was also starting to withdraw socially. Outings with friends became more of a burden than a pleasant activity, and having any people in the house proved to be extremely stressful for him. Because our family time was few and far between, I welcomed the quiet lifestyle.
After the summer of 2007, he went back to work. Things started going downhill again.
Right at the entrance of the building, they made a huge mural of all the men they had lost. He walked past those faces first thing every morning, and couldn't shake the haunting feelings that followed him throughout the rest of the day. He started drinking again. This time first thing in the morning. Upon arrival to work, unbeknownst to anyone else, he put Jim Beam (which he stored in his locker) in his coffee mug before starting the day. Day in and day out. The alcohol was his way of escaping the burden he was carrying.
Starting each day with alcohol, he would often just continue the trend and not even bother to come home after work. There were so many evenings I would watch the sun start to set, and my heart would start pounding in my chest. I knew in my heart he wasn't coming home, and that the night would somehow end very badly. Several things could happen. A: He could go home with another woman, or B: Drive home drunk to me. He could possibly get killed on the way, kill someone else, get a DUI, or C: I would have to drag my children out, find him, and bring him home.
I confess there were times I was tempted to leave him be, hoping he gets that DUI. Sometimes I didn't care either way what happened to him. But, deep down underneath my pain, I also knew there was a man who needed me.
So with a pounding heart, and anger in my veins, I would walk into that bar (children by my side), and bring my husband home. Sometimes he had women on him (which I've been known to shove aside on more than one occasion). Sometimes he'd be alone in a dark corner. But funny thing is, no matter how I found him, he was always happy to see me, and never fought coming home.
(I was always afraid of how deeply my children would be affected by these things, but God is greater than our mistakes. He is greater than our past, and God loves my children more than I do. He has been good, and my children, praise God, do not even remember these times! More on that later. )
During these times, it seemed J's biggest regret was not being there at the memorial service for his friend. It was also weighing very heavy on him that he, along with another man, had to drag (due to their physical exhaustion that night) their friend's body, rather than carry it to the Bradley Vehicle. Dragging a fellow comrade who gave his life was a tremendous burden of guilt that was becoming unbearable for him.
I did some research, and was able to contact the parent's of his friend who was KIA. I called them, and was able to talk with them. I told them about the feelings that J was struggling with, and I asked if we might pay them a visit? They were very gracious, and welcomed us asap! So, in the dead of winter & 9" of snow, we made the 19 hour drive to visit with his family. My father in law was very sweet to come up and stay with our two little ones that week, allowing Jim and I to use that much needed time to reflect, and heal.
The trip to visit his friend's family/ home town proved to be very healing! His parent's were so welcoming. We stayed in his home, looked through family albums, got a personal tour of his bedroom, high school, and met many family friends. J shared with them the guilt he was carrying for having to drag, rather than carry, their son's lifeless body. They shared tears, and hugs and assured J they were eternally grateful that he brought their son home, no matter how he had to do it.
His parent's graciously gave us the dvd recording of his memorial service. When J and I were alone that night, we watched it together, and for the first time in my life, I heard my husband cry. He wept, deeply. What a release. I am so grateful for that moment, and will cherish that trip always.
But even after getting closure, things grew steadily worse.
2008 - 2012 seems to be a blur of drunken nights (always away from home) that almost always included women, bar fights, ANGER, lying, pure deceit.
More war. More death. Attending the funerals of friends/ fellow soldiers was becoming a regular way of life. The times at home he began growing angry. Spills, crying, dogs barking… noise brought him to great anger. If I were to say anything he didn't like, his temper always roared. It was hard trying to keep a perfect home, and quiet little boys to appease him.
It was my birthday, 2009.
I haven't heard from my husband all day. Around 9:00 pm, I received a phone call from the hospital in Memphis. A man that worked with J told me that my husband was coming home, and that I was to meet him at the hospital in the next few hours. He apparently got into a fight with a biker gang and had his face kicked in. His face was crushed, and his eye was dropping, requiring immediate surgery in order to save his eye. Thankfully, a friend was readily available to take our children to her home for the night, and graciously brought them to school the next morning.
When I got to the hospital, J was very angry. His heart was very hard. He was very rude, unloving, and bitter towards me. He didn't allow me to comfort him. He didn't draw closer to me during this trial; he made himself distant. He was breaking my heart.
My birthday, 2010.
Again, I haven't heard from my husband all day. That night, around 11:30 pm, I got a call from the Kentucky jail. "Your husband has been locked up. Please call his chief asap and let him know where he is, so they can come and get him out."
(Yeah, sure I will. I think I'll just wait till the next morning before I make that phone call. It'll be better if I just let him sit a bit…)
2011-2012
He was on the road all of the time. Two weeks in, two weeks out was the norm. Every trip away came more drunken calls through all hours of the night, making it very hard to be the mom I needed to be the next morning. I was exhausted.
When the sky grew dark at night, my heart would pound in my chest not knowing what that night would bring.
Sometimes it brought more phone calls from the police. Sometimes it was the voices of women gathering around my husband at a bar. Other times it was J, speeding from the cops at 90 mph - without headlights - going down dark, Mississippi roads running from the cops (this happened more than once). He would literally put me on speaker phone and sit his phone on the dashboard while yelling, "Hold on, baby… the po po can't get me"!
I would just get on my knees, and beg God not to let him hit a telephone pole, or another car.
He would call me after a bar fight, laughing as he ran through the streets from the scene bragging about how the "other guy mouthed off to the wrong person". Fist fights. Knife fights.
Not all nights were as violent. Many nights he'd call me crying from his hotel room. Asking me to "hold" him as he slept. He would hold the phone, as would I, hundreds of miles away.
I wouldn't go to sleep until I heard the sound of his breathing get heavy as he drifted away. There were trips he couldn't function. At night, he was afraid. What started out as "a drink to help sleep at night" now became a way of life - a way to "chase the demons".
Life was becoming increasingly difficult, especially with him being on the road so much.
He would often ask me to come to him. Willingly, I would pack my bags, bring my children to their grandma's, and meet him wherever he happened to be during that time.
Once I got there, the drinking would stop. I was his comfort. With me at his side, he could then sleep soundly through the night. He found comfort in my presence. He found comfort in being home. The problem was that I couldn't be there all the time, and with his job he would be away from his home quite often!
He needed to find comfort in God, alone. God was the only one who would never leave his side; He is the only one who can give true comfort, and peace. Peace can only be found in the one who gives it. "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, nether let it be afraid." (John 14:27)
Again, while he was at home, things were very different. He didn't drink within these walls. Every so often he'd go to the bar rather than coming home after work, but he didn't actually drink here. The alcohol is what brought the demon out, so I am very thankful he left that at work, or for the most part, on the road. Very often it felt as though I were married to two complete people. The husband that was on the road, and the husband I lived with.
There was not much help for J at the time. There was a point (not sure the dates because they all seem to run together after some point) that I talked to his chief. He promised to check on J, but J told him that he "was fine", so that was good enough for him. Another time, I brought it up a level and called his troop chief. I told him J was having a "hard time", and that it seemed he was struggling with PTSD, etc… I explained that his drinking was heavy, and that he was literally going to work drinking Jim Beam. I told him how he locks himself in his hotel room, drinking himself to sleep EVERY TRIP. I told him of the fights, the running from cops. He laughed and said, "Honey, we ALL are fighting our own demons. It's the ways of the job". That was that.
So, I decided to go all the way up the ladder, and I personally called the Command Master Chief (which is kind of a big 'no no'). I asked him if it was okay with him that his men were drinking on the job, even at times while using a loaded weapon??
Long story short… No help, no concern. They all carried a "tough guy/ warrior" persona, and it was "weak" to be anything less. Their expectations of their men were unrealistic. They are men, not robots, yet they were expected to perform as such. No emotion. No fatigued. No regrets. No weakness.
2012 was an answer to a 8 year prayer.
J had an exceptionally difficult trip, and was arriving home that evening. I asked a dear friend if she would please keep the boys for me a night, which she graciously did.
I picked him up from the airport, and as usual, he had been drinking. I brought him home, and we had a quiet dinner. He sobered up, and I asked him if he wanted to watch a movie (I had a little trick up my sleeve). He said yes. I popped some popcorn, and put in the dvd.
The movie was "Courageous". If you haven't seen it, I encourage you to do so. It is a powerful movie, with an emphasis put on fathers. It is a movie with deep conviction, encouraging men to rise up, and be the MAN God has created/called them to be.
The first thing J asked at the beginning of the movie was, "is this one of those cheesy christian movies with bad acting?". He was less than thrilled, but, trying to appease me he rolled with it.
About half way through the movie, he rolled over off of his bean bag, got on his knees right there, and wept. For a good 15-20 minutes he just wept, begging God to forgive him. I rubbed his back in silence, looking up toward the ceiling with a BIG smile on my face. All I could do was thank God!
J acknowledged his sins, repented, and asked God to forgive him.
He always claimed to know the Lord, but that day was different. It was true repentance - true brokeness. J humbled himself and admitted his weaknesses and his failures, and made the decision to turn from them. He accepted God's free gift - forgiveness of sins, bought and paid for by the sinless, precious blood of Jesus. He acknowledged his need for a saviour!
He says that he "felt his burden lift off of his shoulders". He felt completely different… light hearted, happy. He started to read his Bible every day. He read to the boys voluntarily. He brought us out of our home church (which was fairly large), to a very small church where he felt he could be held more accountable. The pastor's burden in this small church (of approximately 20 people) was discipleship to new christians. His growth in the Lord was evident to all around him.
As he grew in the knowledge of God, he also grew in his love for Him. He was thankful for his new found joy.
However, there was still a struggle deep in his heart. Although we were now on a different path, this was certainly not the end of our hardships. The scars of war were still there, and they had to be addressed in their own way.
Though he repented of his sin and wrong doings, he was still holding on to a part of his heart, his pain. He confessed his sins, yet didn't completely surrender his LIFE, his guilt, his fears.
These last eight years were hard, and they were not yet over. The struggles continued, until that "one dark night it all came to a roaring head" (stay tuned!).
Unbeknownst to us, there were also unseen, physical injuries that comes from serving 39 months of war which effected his thinking, his reasoning, and his reactions.
Eight years of pain have built up until this point. The days were long, and hard. Feelings of resentment, and bitterness sometimes welled up inside me. The temptation to leave was sometimes great. There were times I literally imagined myself ripping off his face, and walking away never to look back. There were times I felt as though I hated him. Sometimes the very words that came from his mouth, even his laughter, made me nauseous.
I hated his job, and all it represented. I hated that his leaders did nothing to help him. I hated that they made his "lifestyle" so easy for him; the refrigerators at work were continually stocked with beer. With every reward came a 6 pack.
It was also easy to resent that he was "a hero" to so many. If they only knew what a jerk he was…
Day after day, year after year. Same ol, same ol. Our children were growing older. It was getting more difficult to hide things from them. Is this the father they deserved? Certainly not. Was it fair for him to treat me this way?? NO. He was rude, inconsiderate, harsh, unloving, and unkind. There were times he was verbally abusive. He was an adulterer. He broke my trust.
But PRAISE GOD that he has never asked us to put our trust in man. Not even our husbands! He has simply asked us to trust HIM. HE is the only who will never leave you. HE is the one who will never fail. HE is the one who will never hurt you, or break your heart.
Our human understanding is so flawed… how foolish we are to believe that man/ women will never hurt us.
I had to trust GOD for the path He has chosen for me. I had to TRUST HIM with the husband he had given to me. I had to put ALL my trust in GOD ALONE, not J. I had to surrender my husband to HIM, and just LET GO of our circumstances. I had to BE STILL.
Sure, what he was doing was very wrong. I COULD refuse to allow J to treat me this way. I had every RIGHT to be bitter, and I certainly had every right to be angry! I had the right to leave him, and I don't think anybody would fault me for it.
Or, I could surrender my rights, and trust my God to take care of me. I could trust that He is sovereign, and nothing has happened that He did not allow for my own good. I could trust that "all things work together for good" (Romans 8:28). I could CHOOSE to "in everything give thanks" (1 Thes. 5:18), and to "not worry about anything, but by prayer and THANKSGIVING make my requests be known unto God" (phil. 4:6-7).
If I stood on my rights, then our marriage would inevitably end in divorce. My children would be reared in a broken home for the remainder of their lives, including when they themselves are parents. Their children would, too, be forced to visit various "sets" of grandparents, and broken homes. Step mothers, step fathers, step sisters, step brothers, etc… We would have shared custody - two homes, two bedrooms, split vacations, holidays…
I knew this was not the legacy I wanted my children to have. I wanted to leave a legacy of VIRTUE. GODLINESS. STRENGTH, and VICTORY IN JESUS. I didn't want to teach my children to run when life gets hard. I wanted them to see that GOD ANSWERS PRAYER. I wanted my children to see God's glory through their parent's brokeness more than I wanted to cling to "my rights". I wanted to CLING TO THE PROMISES OF GOD.
God told me I had to TRUST AND OBEY.
Obey what? His word. The way HE instructs us to think, to act, to speak, to love, to forgive. Like J, I too, had to surrender "my ways".
I knew I had to change the way I prayed. I no longer made my husband the length and the focus of my prayers. Yes, I continued to pray for him, but the focus - the petition of my heart - changed from "Lord, change him", to "Lord, change ME…"
Proverbs 14:1 says, "Every wise woman builds her house, but the foolish plucks it down with her hands".
I had a choice… would I be the "contentious woman" that the Bible warns so much about (argumentative, open to debate), or the wise, virtuous (good, pure, gentle, noble, respectable) woman God so highly praises? Would I tear down my house? Or build it up?
To be continued…
Friday, January 22, 2016
The Costs of War, part 3
After J came home that fall of 2005, things went back to normal, at least on the surface. We still laughed, played, went on dates, and had a lot of fun enjoying one another's company. We still functioned as a family as we used to… went to church, ate dinner around the table every night, still had lots of family time, and ended every day tucking the boys in, giving lots of love, kisses, and prayers.
Underneath it all, I was struggling with the insecurities that betrayal brings, and he was still struggling with guilt. Guilt that war brings, and guilt of the way he treated me.
It was a sweet Christmas, and I had hope that one day we would be completely healed of everything that happened that year.
January 2006 came, and with it came more training, and another deployment back to Iraq.
Training was LONG and hard, for they only had 9 months to train before leaving again to new terrain. He was literally gone all the time. I was scared. I wasn't sure how either one of us was going to handle 16 months of separation after just coming through such an intense year.
The long training trips proved to be very difficult… he began drinking again on every trip. He would go away, drink (avoid me the entire trip), and then return home as if everything were perfectly fine.
He didn't drink at home, so I wasn't to ask him about what went on during his trips. If I did he would get very angry, and have major fits. This caused me to resent him due to the fact that he could do as he pleased, but I was expected just to sit and be quiet, smile, and welcome him home every trip. If I were to ask ANYTHING, he would explode and shut me out for days. A simple question such as "What time will you be home" sent him over the edge.
With every trip the drinking became greater. I would get phone calls all hours throughout the night, into early morning. He would be at a bar, hundreds of miles away, and I would hear woman all around him. He said things that I'm sure a counselor would refer to as "verbally abusive", yet when morning came he was back to being "J". He was back to "loving me", and was "sorry".
That was that. We weren't to talk about what goes on during the drunken hours, just as long as all was "fine" on the home front.
The summer of 2006, he came home from a trip very drunk. He forced me to stop and get him alcohol on the way home from the airport to keep it going. Drinking at home wasn't something he usually did, so seeing him like this was unusual.
It was late evening, so I decided that it would be best to just put my babies to bed early. After they were asleep, he started talking his "drunk talk"… about women, and everything else. He admitted all his infidelity, and even elaborated on the details. I became furious… I snapped. I ripped the curtains off the wall, flipped the coffee table, and told him I was leaving him. I went outside and threw the new, beautiful ring he just bought me for Mother's Day, because I told him that it didn't hold any meaning to me any more.
He got very quiet, and just sat on the couch with his beer.
I packed the boy's clothes, diapers, woke them up and put them in the car. I stayed in a hotel that night. I waited until he went to work the next day before returning home to pack our remaining things, and left. I went to stay with my mother in law in a different state.
The first night there, he called me. At first I didn't answer. He tried all hours throughout the night, and continued to call my mother in law's home phone repeatedly. There wasn't the option to turn the ringer off on that particular phone, so I answered to keep everyone in the house from being up all night. He was at our home drunk, and crying. He said he was scared, and he hated being alone. He said every time he closed his eyes the faces of friends lost would be there, and talk to him. He just kept saying how afraid he was being there alone, and that's when I realized that this was much more than just a "husband turned complete jerk" scenario, and that we were dealing with something much deeper.
You see, this was only the 4th year into the war, and PTSD wasn't often talked about . It's something we referred to when we were talking about our Vietnam Vets, but not today's soldiers. He didn't talk about the feelings he struggled with on the road, therefore I didn't realize just how afraid he was, and how much he was struggling with these feelings. In my mind, I just assumed that all the time he spent away from home was paying its toll, turning him into a selfish, cheating, lying, drunk. I was young, hurt, and naive. I didn't stop to consider the true causes of the changes in him.
That night on the phone, I promised him that as long as he was at home, that would do my best to keep it his "safe place", and I would NEVER leave him alone again. The following morning I went back home, leaving my kiddos to stay with my mother in law for a couple of days. We had plenty of alone time, and this time he opened up, and shared with me the things that were weighing so heavily on his heart.
I wish we had time to heal, but with his job there isn't much time for that.
He deployed that September 2006.
Our relationship was slowly healing, but he continued drinking, even overseas. Still, he stopped pushing me away, and for that I was very thankful.
Iraq, April 6, 2007
J and the guys went out on what seemed to be just another op. However, it proved to be much more than that.
Without going into many details, J and his men were attacked and were under heavy enemy fire. They lost a very good man that night, a true hero who is still missed today! During the firefight, J's chief was shot a total of 27 times. J and another man were first by his side. J had his fingers in his chief's wounds to stop the bleeding, and together they helped patch him as best they could and loaded him onto a MEDEVAC helicopter. He watched them fly away, not knowing if he would ever see his friend alive again. They thought they were going to lose him, but praise God he had another plan! He was able to come home to his sweet family, and lived to tell about it!
He and another man carried his friend's lifeless body to the Bradley Vehicle.
J couldn't help but reflect on his life during that helicopter ride back to base. He felt God pull strongly on his heart that night. He felt the pull, felt the peace and even acknowledged the one who sent it, yet never totally surrendered.
He came home that May, and tried to act as "normal" as possible. We went to Bethesda and spent some time with a few of the men that were hurt that night, including his chief. The guys talked, and tried to make sense of everything. They tried to heal the best they knew how. But there were big scars left behind. Nightmares. Anxiety. Feelings of guilt. "Demons" is what they would call it, that haunted them no matter where they'd go. There was no escape.
J did fine while he was at home, but we both knew it was just a short time before he would be on the road again.
Training came fast. The first couple of trips were uneventful; no drinking, no signs of anger. He called me every night to tell me how much he loved me. He tried to act as "normal" as possible - J saw the problem that was in his life, and he was doing everything in his strength to fight it.
But that was the problem. Whenever we try to do anything in our own strength, we will fail. This battle was too big for J to fight alone. He needed to admit his human weakness, and fight this battle through God's strength. He needed divine, supernatural power to get him through these battles; strength that you can only recieve from God Himself.
You see, it doesn't matter what your job title is. What you've done holds little value in the big scheme of things. It doesn't matter how important you think your job is, how strong you are, what your level of education is, how successful you are, or how much money is in your bank account. In the end, we are NOTHING without God.
Until a man/woman can admit their weakness, and humble themselves under the mighty hand of God, there is little we can do in our own strength to fight the battles of this life. We will fail trying.
The strongest of men must first admit their weakness if they are to win the war.
To be continued…
Underneath it all, I was struggling with the insecurities that betrayal brings, and he was still struggling with guilt. Guilt that war brings, and guilt of the way he treated me.
It was a sweet Christmas, and I had hope that one day we would be completely healed of everything that happened that year.
January 2006 came, and with it came more training, and another deployment back to Iraq.
Training was LONG and hard, for they only had 9 months to train before leaving again to new terrain. He was literally gone all the time. I was scared. I wasn't sure how either one of us was going to handle 16 months of separation after just coming through such an intense year.
The long training trips proved to be very difficult… he began drinking again on every trip. He would go away, drink (avoid me the entire trip), and then return home as if everything were perfectly fine.
He didn't drink at home, so I wasn't to ask him about what went on during his trips. If I did he would get very angry, and have major fits. This caused me to resent him due to the fact that he could do as he pleased, but I was expected just to sit and be quiet, smile, and welcome him home every trip. If I were to ask ANYTHING, he would explode and shut me out for days. A simple question such as "What time will you be home" sent him over the edge.
With every trip the drinking became greater. I would get phone calls all hours throughout the night, into early morning. He would be at a bar, hundreds of miles away, and I would hear woman all around him. He said things that I'm sure a counselor would refer to as "verbally abusive", yet when morning came he was back to being "J". He was back to "loving me", and was "sorry".
That was that. We weren't to talk about what goes on during the drunken hours, just as long as all was "fine" on the home front.
The summer of 2006, he came home from a trip very drunk. He forced me to stop and get him alcohol on the way home from the airport to keep it going. Drinking at home wasn't something he usually did, so seeing him like this was unusual.
It was late evening, so I decided that it would be best to just put my babies to bed early. After they were asleep, he started talking his "drunk talk"… about women, and everything else. He admitted all his infidelity, and even elaborated on the details. I became furious… I snapped. I ripped the curtains off the wall, flipped the coffee table, and told him I was leaving him. I went outside and threw the new, beautiful ring he just bought me for Mother's Day, because I told him that it didn't hold any meaning to me any more.
He got very quiet, and just sat on the couch with his beer.
I packed the boy's clothes, diapers, woke them up and put them in the car. I stayed in a hotel that night. I waited until he went to work the next day before returning home to pack our remaining things, and left. I went to stay with my mother in law in a different state.
The first night there, he called me. At first I didn't answer. He tried all hours throughout the night, and continued to call my mother in law's home phone repeatedly. There wasn't the option to turn the ringer off on that particular phone, so I answered to keep everyone in the house from being up all night. He was at our home drunk, and crying. He said he was scared, and he hated being alone. He said every time he closed his eyes the faces of friends lost would be there, and talk to him. He just kept saying how afraid he was being there alone, and that's when I realized that this was much more than just a "husband turned complete jerk" scenario, and that we were dealing with something much deeper.
You see, this was only the 4th year into the war, and PTSD wasn't often talked about . It's something we referred to when we were talking about our Vietnam Vets, but not today's soldiers. He didn't talk about the feelings he struggled with on the road, therefore I didn't realize just how afraid he was, and how much he was struggling with these feelings. In my mind, I just assumed that all the time he spent away from home was paying its toll, turning him into a selfish, cheating, lying, drunk. I was young, hurt, and naive. I didn't stop to consider the true causes of the changes in him.
That night on the phone, I promised him that as long as he was at home, that would do my best to keep it his "safe place", and I would NEVER leave him alone again. The following morning I went back home, leaving my kiddos to stay with my mother in law for a couple of days. We had plenty of alone time, and this time he opened up, and shared with me the things that were weighing so heavily on his heart.
I wish we had time to heal, but with his job there isn't much time for that.
He deployed that September 2006.
Our relationship was slowly healing, but he continued drinking, even overseas. Still, he stopped pushing me away, and for that I was very thankful.
Iraq, April 6, 2007
J and the guys went out on what seemed to be just another op. However, it proved to be much more than that.
Without going into many details, J and his men were attacked and were under heavy enemy fire. They lost a very good man that night, a true hero who is still missed today! During the firefight, J's chief was shot a total of 27 times. J and another man were first by his side. J had his fingers in his chief's wounds to stop the bleeding, and together they helped patch him as best they could and loaded him onto a MEDEVAC helicopter. He watched them fly away, not knowing if he would ever see his friend alive again. They thought they were going to lose him, but praise God he had another plan! He was able to come home to his sweet family, and lived to tell about it!
He and another man carried his friend's lifeless body to the Bradley Vehicle.
J couldn't help but reflect on his life during that helicopter ride back to base. He felt God pull strongly on his heart that night. He felt the pull, felt the peace and even acknowledged the one who sent it, yet never totally surrendered.
He came home that May, and tried to act as "normal" as possible. We went to Bethesda and spent some time with a few of the men that were hurt that night, including his chief. The guys talked, and tried to make sense of everything. They tried to heal the best they knew how. But there were big scars left behind. Nightmares. Anxiety. Feelings of guilt. "Demons" is what they would call it, that haunted them no matter where they'd go. There was no escape.
J did fine while he was at home, but we both knew it was just a short time before he would be on the road again.
Training came fast. The first couple of trips were uneventful; no drinking, no signs of anger. He called me every night to tell me how much he loved me. He tried to act as "normal" as possible - J saw the problem that was in his life, and he was doing everything in his strength to fight it.
But that was the problem. Whenever we try to do anything in our own strength, we will fail. This battle was too big for J to fight alone. He needed to admit his human weakness, and fight this battle through God's strength. He needed divine, supernatural power to get him through these battles; strength that you can only recieve from God Himself.
You see, it doesn't matter what your job title is. What you've done holds little value in the big scheme of things. It doesn't matter how important you think your job is, how strong you are, what your level of education is, how successful you are, or how much money is in your bank account. In the end, we are NOTHING without God.
Until a man/woman can admit their weakness, and humble themselves under the mighty hand of God, there is little we can do in our own strength to fight the battles of this life. We will fail trying.
The strongest of men must first admit their weakness if they are to win the war.
To be continued…
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
"Lord, teach me to pray", part 2
Psalm 138:3
"In the day when I cried thou answered me, and strengthened me with strength in my soul."
Day after day, the drunken phone calls continued, all hours of the day, and night. One sided conversations full of anger, and harsh, unkind words. They were repetitive… "Don't be there when I get back".
Through all the pain, fear, and confusion, I knew deep down in my heart that this was not the man I married. I KNEW he loved me. I knew he loved our children. I didn't understand what was happening.
After a month or so of these conversations, I began to wonder if I should go ahead and do as he said… pack my stuff, and leave. There was a part of me that didn't want to do this anymore. "Why should I have to put of with this?" I was tempted to quit, but every time I started to entertain those thoughts, I heard God say, "no".
The pain became almost too much to bear. Should I pack my babies, and leave?? Should I say goodbye to this home, our life together, and never look back?? Does he mean what he says? What if he really does 'love' this girl? What will life be like when he does get back, will he be a drunk? Will he be abusive? Should I subject our young children to a harsh, angry man??
I put the boys down for a nap, and started pouring my heart out to God. I was laying on the kitchen floor, in a fetal position. I was crying so hard I vomited what ever my empty stomach could produce, dry heaving and gagging in complete heartache, and devastation. I completely broke down. I begged God to tell me what I should do! Please God, let me leave! Please tell me it's okay to back my bags and go home to my mom, and dad!
Im not sure how long I spent down there on that kitchen floor, crying out to God. But one thing I do know is that he answered me. He answered me in a way I cannot describe. I heard him speak to me, but not in an audible way as you and I speak to each other. I heard him speak to me in the depths of my soul… with the "ears of my heart".
He said to me, "Don't give up April. I have plans for Jim. I WILL use this in your life, if you trust me through it".
I heard him.
I froze. The tears immediately stopped as perfect peace washed over me. I got up, wiped the tears from my eyes, and looked out my kitchen window towards the heavens. A smiled washed over my face as I looked up at God and said out loud, "Okay God. I will trust you. I won't give up… I promise."
In that moment I went from a victim to a warrior. I knew in my heart I was entering the battle, and I was going to fight - ON MY KNEES.
"Ye shall not need to fight in the battle: set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the Lord with you… Fear not, nor be dismayed; tomorrow go out against them, for the Lord will be with you." ~ 2 Chronicles 20:17
It was a complete and total mind shift. I didn't' know how long the battle was going to be, but I knew it was His, and that He would be there every step of the way.
I got serious with God. I got serious about my prayer life. I fasted, and prayed. Fasted, and prayed. I remember every Tuesday during that time, I didn't eat and I did as little as possible. I tried to stay in God's word throughout the entire day, searching verses on prayer, and God's promises. When the boys went to bed, I didn't turn on the TV, I opened my Bible.
I once heard a saying, "Go to the THRONE, and NOT THE PHONE", and that really stuck with me. When I was sad, afraid, overwhelmed, I didn't call my family and friends for comfort. I went to THE comforter HIMSELF.
God taught me that victory in our lives depends on our willingness to hear his call to pray.
I bought the book "The power of a praying wife", by Stormie Omartian. What a blessing that book was to me! Whenever my heart was overwhelmed, the examples of specific prayers and scriptures in her book really encouraged my heart. She spoke about the power that God has put over the husband and wife relationship. God says that "the two shall become one flesh". That means that I can pray for my husband like no other human being on this earth: my prayers for him have more power than any other! What a huge honor and responsibility I have before God!
I confess that before this my prayers for him were very generic. "Lord, please watch over and protect him, etc…" But God wants us to be specific when we pray. Prayer truly IS POWERFUL. God wants us to run to him in hard times. TRUST him. Talk to him. He wants to rescue, and deliver us. He wants us to BE STILL (Psalm 46:10), to "take our hands out" of what ONLY he can do.
The days continued on, and the more I sought God, the more He revealed himself to me ("Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." ~James 4:8
Although I knew God had a plan, and I chose to trust Him, I still sometimes struggled with human emotions. There were days that pain, betrayal, and fear overwhelmed my heart.
On one particular Day in October, I took my boys to the park. It was a beautiful day, bright blue skies, and a cool autumn breeze. J. was due home in the next 2-3 weeks, and my mind was racing with the thoughts of "what if". Fear overwhelmed my heart - I was allowing satan to use emotions to distract me from the promises of God.
I was pushing the boys on the swings. They were facing away from me, so as not to see my tears. As I pushed them, I looked up again to the sky. "God, I am scared."
As I cried, I noticed a fairly large piece of paper moving along in the parking lot. The parking lot was quite a distance way, yet the October breeze pushed it so gently it was slowly moving my way.
I hate litter, so I remember thinking to myself, "when that paper gets closer, I need to go grab it and throw it away".
My youngest starting sliding down in the baby seat and became uncomfortable. I went to the front of the swings to adjust him. When I went back to push him, I looked down and found the paper at my feet.
I picked it up. It was a church bulletin. I flipped it around, and HIGHLIGHTED IN YELLOW was 1 John 5:14-15.
"And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us: And if we know that he hears us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him."
Again, my tears turned into immediate, joyful uninhibited laughter!! I was indescribably thankful… THANKFUL THAT MY GOD TOOK THE TIME TO SEND ME A PERSONAL MESSAGE!! A personal message of encouragement from God himself as a reminder to keep praying! To never give up. To remember his promises!
He loved me THAT MUCH. I couldn't believe it; my heart was overwhelmed with pure JOY. I still have that bulletin as a reminder of the promises of God, and that sweet day in the park when he took the time to meet me where I was at, and show me how much he loves me.
I don't know where you are in your relationship with God, or even if you have one. But I am here to tell you today that GOD IS REAL. He is ALIVE, all powerful, and He LOVES you, just as much as he loves me! He doesn't care what you've done, or where you've been. He just wants you to run to HIM!
The verse on the bulletin said "Ask anything according to his will….".
We cant' pray in confidence that he will heal cancer, give us the job we want, or whatever else we may be praying for. Some things are just not his will for our lives, but we can trust that he will work through them to accomplish His will for you.
However, I CAN be assured that it was NOT God's will that our marriage end in divorce. It was NOT his will to allow satan to have victory in my family - to leave a heritage of divorce and defeat to my children. These things are NOT His will.
Therefore, I knew that I could go "boldly to the throne of grace, to receive help in my time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). I knew that "Whatever things I ask when I pray, that if I believe I will receive them, that I will have them" (Mark 11:24). And that "if I ask, it will be given me" (Matt. 7:7).
"And God hath both raised up the Lord, and will also raise up us by his own power." (1 Cor. 6:14-16)
The power that resurrected Jesus is the SAME POWER that will resurrect the dead places in our lives - in my marriage - and put life back into it!
Let GOD BE GOD. Let Him show forth his power, and glory through your life. Make a decision, and cling to his promises. Like Moses cried to the Lord… "SHOW ME YOUR GLORY!" (Ex. 33:18)
We serve the God of Moses! Why don't we live like it????
October 2005
J. called before leaving Iraq. Once again he said to me, "Don't be there when I get home".
I didn't listen. I went to the base to pick him up. He got off the bus, looked up, and our eyes met from across the parking lot. He walked up to me, took my hand, and said, "Lets go home". He hasn't mentioned her a day since.
TO GOD BE THE GLORY!
This was just one victory in what proved to be the beginning of a very long battle, but GOD continued to show himself faithful to us!
My next blog post will begin in 2006. Stay tuned to see what else the Lord will do!
"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy". Pslam 126:5 Just one of God's promises that you, too, can claim for your own.
"In the day when I cried thou answered me, and strengthened me with strength in my soul."
Day after day, the drunken phone calls continued, all hours of the day, and night. One sided conversations full of anger, and harsh, unkind words. They were repetitive… "Don't be there when I get back".
Through all the pain, fear, and confusion, I knew deep down in my heart that this was not the man I married. I KNEW he loved me. I knew he loved our children. I didn't understand what was happening.
After a month or so of these conversations, I began to wonder if I should go ahead and do as he said… pack my stuff, and leave. There was a part of me that didn't want to do this anymore. "Why should I have to put of with this?" I was tempted to quit, but every time I started to entertain those thoughts, I heard God say, "no".
The pain became almost too much to bear. Should I pack my babies, and leave?? Should I say goodbye to this home, our life together, and never look back?? Does he mean what he says? What if he really does 'love' this girl? What will life be like when he does get back, will he be a drunk? Will he be abusive? Should I subject our young children to a harsh, angry man??
I put the boys down for a nap, and started pouring my heart out to God. I was laying on the kitchen floor, in a fetal position. I was crying so hard I vomited what ever my empty stomach could produce, dry heaving and gagging in complete heartache, and devastation. I completely broke down. I begged God to tell me what I should do! Please God, let me leave! Please tell me it's okay to back my bags and go home to my mom, and dad!
Im not sure how long I spent down there on that kitchen floor, crying out to God. But one thing I do know is that he answered me. He answered me in a way I cannot describe. I heard him speak to me, but not in an audible way as you and I speak to each other. I heard him speak to me in the depths of my soul… with the "ears of my heart".
He said to me, "Don't give up April. I have plans for Jim. I WILL use this in your life, if you trust me through it".
I heard him.
I froze. The tears immediately stopped as perfect peace washed over me. I got up, wiped the tears from my eyes, and looked out my kitchen window towards the heavens. A smiled washed over my face as I looked up at God and said out loud, "Okay God. I will trust you. I won't give up… I promise."
In that moment I went from a victim to a warrior. I knew in my heart I was entering the battle, and I was going to fight - ON MY KNEES.
"Ye shall not need to fight in the battle: set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the Lord with you… Fear not, nor be dismayed; tomorrow go out against them, for the Lord will be with you." ~ 2 Chronicles 20:17
It was a complete and total mind shift. I didn't' know how long the battle was going to be, but I knew it was His, and that He would be there every step of the way.
I got serious with God. I got serious about my prayer life. I fasted, and prayed. Fasted, and prayed. I remember every Tuesday during that time, I didn't eat and I did as little as possible. I tried to stay in God's word throughout the entire day, searching verses on prayer, and God's promises. When the boys went to bed, I didn't turn on the TV, I opened my Bible.
I once heard a saying, "Go to the THRONE, and NOT THE PHONE", and that really stuck with me. When I was sad, afraid, overwhelmed, I didn't call my family and friends for comfort. I went to THE comforter HIMSELF.
God taught me that victory in our lives depends on our willingness to hear his call to pray.
I bought the book "The power of a praying wife", by Stormie Omartian. What a blessing that book was to me! Whenever my heart was overwhelmed, the examples of specific prayers and scriptures in her book really encouraged my heart. She spoke about the power that God has put over the husband and wife relationship. God says that "the two shall become one flesh". That means that I can pray for my husband like no other human being on this earth: my prayers for him have more power than any other! What a huge honor and responsibility I have before God!
I confess that before this my prayers for him were very generic. "Lord, please watch over and protect him, etc…" But God wants us to be specific when we pray. Prayer truly IS POWERFUL. God wants us to run to him in hard times. TRUST him. Talk to him. He wants to rescue, and deliver us. He wants us to BE STILL (Psalm 46:10), to "take our hands out" of what ONLY he can do.
The days continued on, and the more I sought God, the more He revealed himself to me ("Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." ~James 4:8
Although I knew God had a plan, and I chose to trust Him, I still sometimes struggled with human emotions. There were days that pain, betrayal, and fear overwhelmed my heart.
On one particular Day in October, I took my boys to the park. It was a beautiful day, bright blue skies, and a cool autumn breeze. J. was due home in the next 2-3 weeks, and my mind was racing with the thoughts of "what if". Fear overwhelmed my heart - I was allowing satan to use emotions to distract me from the promises of God.
I was pushing the boys on the swings. They were facing away from me, so as not to see my tears. As I pushed them, I looked up again to the sky. "God, I am scared."
As I cried, I noticed a fairly large piece of paper moving along in the parking lot. The parking lot was quite a distance way, yet the October breeze pushed it so gently it was slowly moving my way.
I hate litter, so I remember thinking to myself, "when that paper gets closer, I need to go grab it and throw it away".
My youngest starting sliding down in the baby seat and became uncomfortable. I went to the front of the swings to adjust him. When I went back to push him, I looked down and found the paper at my feet.
I picked it up. It was a church bulletin. I flipped it around, and HIGHLIGHTED IN YELLOW was 1 John 5:14-15.
"And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us: And if we know that he hears us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him."
Again, my tears turned into immediate, joyful uninhibited laughter!! I was indescribably thankful… THANKFUL THAT MY GOD TOOK THE TIME TO SEND ME A PERSONAL MESSAGE!! A personal message of encouragement from God himself as a reminder to keep praying! To never give up. To remember his promises!
He loved me THAT MUCH. I couldn't believe it; my heart was overwhelmed with pure JOY. I still have that bulletin as a reminder of the promises of God, and that sweet day in the park when he took the time to meet me where I was at, and show me how much he loves me.
I don't know where you are in your relationship with God, or even if you have one. But I am here to tell you today that GOD IS REAL. He is ALIVE, all powerful, and He LOVES you, just as much as he loves me! He doesn't care what you've done, or where you've been. He just wants you to run to HIM!
The verse on the bulletin said "Ask anything according to his will….".
We cant' pray in confidence that he will heal cancer, give us the job we want, or whatever else we may be praying for. Some things are just not his will for our lives, but we can trust that he will work through them to accomplish His will for you.
However, I CAN be assured that it was NOT God's will that our marriage end in divorce. It was NOT his will to allow satan to have victory in my family - to leave a heritage of divorce and defeat to my children. These things are NOT His will.
Therefore, I knew that I could go "boldly to the throne of grace, to receive help in my time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). I knew that "Whatever things I ask when I pray, that if I believe I will receive them, that I will have them" (Mark 11:24). And that "if I ask, it will be given me" (Matt. 7:7).
"And God hath both raised up the Lord, and will also raise up us by his own power." (1 Cor. 6:14-16)
The power that resurrected Jesus is the SAME POWER that will resurrect the dead places in our lives - in my marriage - and put life back into it!
Let GOD BE GOD. Let Him show forth his power, and glory through your life. Make a decision, and cling to his promises. Like Moses cried to the Lord… "SHOW ME YOUR GLORY!" (Ex. 33:18)
We serve the God of Moses! Why don't we live like it????
October 2005
J. called before leaving Iraq. Once again he said to me, "Don't be there when I get home".
I didn't listen. I went to the base to pick him up. He got off the bus, looked up, and our eyes met from across the parking lot. He walked up to me, took my hand, and said, "Lets go home". He hasn't mentioned her a day since.
TO GOD BE THE GLORY!
This was just one victory in what proved to be the beginning of a very long battle, but GOD continued to show himself faithful to us!
My next blog post will begin in 2006. Stay tuned to see what else the Lord will do!
"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy". Pslam 126:5 Just one of God's promises that you, too, can claim for your own.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Where it all began, part 1
Well, here I go! This is proving to be much more difficult than I thought, for several reasons.
One, how do I fit ten years of my life into one blog post? I decided to break it up into parts.
Two, we as humans have a tendency to judge. I cringe at the thought of airing my husband's "dirty laundry" for the world to see. Keep in mind that his story is one of deliverance, forgiveness, and amazing grace! Yet I hesitate, because I have seen judgement firsthand.
Last year, he humbly bore his soul at a Veteran's dinner where he was invited to speak. I personally sat there and watched pure judgement wash over the face of one of our acquaintances. She has not talked to us since that day.
It's people like that - people who do not understand that we are ALL sinners saved by GRACE - that cause my hesitation. There is NONE righteous, and if you are guilty of one, you are guilty of all. God's desire is to heal the broken! If you don't get that and you feel that you are in any position to judge, then I'm sorry, but you completely missed the whole point of the entire gospel!
But I have to remember…that's exactly what satan wants… for me to fear man. He wants me to think that man's approval actually matters, when in fact, it doesn't. Not one bit.
I refuse to allow fear of judgment and acceptance to shadow God's message of salvation.
So here it is. Here is our story, our testimony, of what God can do when you fight on your knees. We prayed, God answered.
"In the day when I cried thou answered me, and strengthened me with strength in my soul." -Psalm 138:3
September 11, 2001.
We were on our honeymoon in the Poconos, when we woke up to the news of the terrorist attacks. "J" was not sure what this meant for him, as he would be checking in to his new unit once our honeymoon was over. Needless to say, this news was a dark cloud hovering over our newly wedded bliss.
The following month we checked into our new post. He was given orders to go to Afghanistan. War was looming over us, but when exactly that was we were unsure of. He started training. Hard. He was gone almost the entire year leading up to his deployment. During this time we were blessed with our first son.
In March 2003, he deployed to Afghanistan for eight months, leaving our son and I behind. He wrote me weekly (this was before we had internet!), and even found time to call often, usually before an op to let me know how much he loves me.
God brought him home that October. I didn't see much change in him. "J" was still quiet, sweet, gentle, caring. He was strong, yet gentle. Sensitive, and romantic. He always had a patient spirit, and an extremely "laid back" disposition that I fell in love with.
He enjoyed his job, and felt good about fighting for our country. He felt proud, and fulfilled.
He continued to train hard. Home for two weeks, out six. Home three weeks, out for another two months… his schedule was constantly changing. We rolled with it. Sometimes it would stink when he missed birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, but we would always find a way to make up for it.
July 2004, we were blessed with another son. This baby was extremely colicky, which made life with an active toddler and infant that more challenging (after months of projectile vomiting, and screaming he was finally diagnosed with food allergies). He cried almost constantly for months straight, and "J" was gone the majority of the time. Our first son was a light sleeper, so every time the baby cried, it woke him up as well. It was getting exhausting on my own.
When "J" was home, I started seeing him as my "helper", rather than my husband. I looked to him for rescue, turning a blind eye to his own needs. After we tucked the boys into bed at night, as soon as that door shut, I couldn't wait to finally sit down!
But "J" had other plans. He would immediately reach for me, and I would respond by saying, "Are you serious? Please, just let me sit down a minute". Then I'd fall asleep. This happened much more than I'd like to admit, but in my mind it was justified.
I was literally exhausted, and I worked hard. Very hard. We had continual plumbing problems, flooding, sewage back ups. I remember cutting grass in the summer heat with one baby in my "baby sling" and a toddler on my shoulders. We had no family in the area, and any friends we did have were at least 30 minutes away. There was also that little bitty detail that I absolutely hated to ask for favors. After all, I wouldn't live up to my title of being a "tough warrior bride", as "J" so often refereed to me, if I had help. I liked making him proud. I was stupidly independent.
After another year of training, and traveling, in February 2005 he deployed again. This time it was nine months to Iraq.
This deployment was a little different. We were blessed to have my sister inlaw and her husband move to the next town during this deployment. It was nice having family close by. They were always willing to help, if ever I asked.
We also had internet this go-round, complete with a webcam, but it seemed every time we were able to get on there, the baby would be screaming, or the toddler would be playfully climbing all over me, begging for attention.
So once again, my relationship with my husband was being put on hold. Time and time again, our conversations were interrupted. There were times I could barely even understand what he was saying through all the screaming, pulling, and dirty diapers.
I, personally, took this season like a grain of salt, assuming it was all part of "life", and we would get through it. Never once did I consider that my husband didn't quite see it that way. He felt neglected, and alone. He didn't communicate those feelings, and I was too distracted to pick up on them.
That June in 2005, I got news that a helicopter carrying many of my husband's fellow comrades, as well as close friends, was shot down in the mountains of Afghanistan. This devastated my husband much more than we ever bargained for.
Unbeknownst to me, he was struggling with great feelings of guilt. Guilt that only those in his shoes can ever completely understand. He started losing sleep, being haunted by thoughts of "what if", "if only", and "why".
He wasn't due home for another 4 months. During that time he began to drink. Heavily. It helped him sleep, and it helped dim the continual haunting thoughts that were racing through his mind.
He didn't want to talk to the guys he was deployed with about his struggles. To him, that was a sign of weakness. So during the times of drinking, he found himself in a chat room, talking to anybody who would listen. He met a "girl" (actually, the word "whore" would be much more appropriate, for she knew he was married) who had a very smooth way of talking, and listening. After a couple weeks of their conversations, they started mailing each other pictures, and in the months following that, they professed their love for one another.
He broke the news to me over the web cam by telling me not to be there when he came home. He told me he fell in love with somebody else, and that he didn't want anything to do with me, or our boys any longer. Every phone call I received from Iraq was in a drunken rage, during all hours of the night. He called me daily to tell me how in love he was with this *cough cough* girl, how angry he was, and that I was to "pack up my $#!*, and leave".
For months this went on. His tone never changed. Nothing but pure anger.
To be continued….
One, how do I fit ten years of my life into one blog post? I decided to break it up into parts.
Two, we as humans have a tendency to judge. I cringe at the thought of airing my husband's "dirty laundry" for the world to see. Keep in mind that his story is one of deliverance, forgiveness, and amazing grace! Yet I hesitate, because I have seen judgement firsthand.
Last year, he humbly bore his soul at a Veteran's dinner where he was invited to speak. I personally sat there and watched pure judgement wash over the face of one of our acquaintances. She has not talked to us since that day.
It's people like that - people who do not understand that we are ALL sinners saved by GRACE - that cause my hesitation. There is NONE righteous, and if you are guilty of one, you are guilty of all. God's desire is to heal the broken! If you don't get that and you feel that you are in any position to judge, then I'm sorry, but you completely missed the whole point of the entire gospel!
But I have to remember…that's exactly what satan wants… for me to fear man. He wants me to think that man's approval actually matters, when in fact, it doesn't. Not one bit.
I refuse to allow fear of judgment and acceptance to shadow God's message of salvation.
So here it is. Here is our story, our testimony, of what God can do when you fight on your knees. We prayed, God answered.
"In the day when I cried thou answered me, and strengthened me with strength in my soul." -Psalm 138:3
September 11, 2001.
We were on our honeymoon in the Poconos, when we woke up to the news of the terrorist attacks. "J" was not sure what this meant for him, as he would be checking in to his new unit once our honeymoon was over. Needless to say, this news was a dark cloud hovering over our newly wedded bliss.
The following month we checked into our new post. He was given orders to go to Afghanistan. War was looming over us, but when exactly that was we were unsure of. He started training. Hard. He was gone almost the entire year leading up to his deployment. During this time we were blessed with our first son.
In March 2003, he deployed to Afghanistan for eight months, leaving our son and I behind. He wrote me weekly (this was before we had internet!), and even found time to call often, usually before an op to let me know how much he loves me.
God brought him home that October. I didn't see much change in him. "J" was still quiet, sweet, gentle, caring. He was strong, yet gentle. Sensitive, and romantic. He always had a patient spirit, and an extremely "laid back" disposition that I fell in love with.
He enjoyed his job, and felt good about fighting for our country. He felt proud, and fulfilled.
He continued to train hard. Home for two weeks, out six. Home three weeks, out for another two months… his schedule was constantly changing. We rolled with it. Sometimes it would stink when he missed birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, but we would always find a way to make up for it.
July 2004, we were blessed with another son. This baby was extremely colicky, which made life with an active toddler and infant that more challenging (after months of projectile vomiting, and screaming he was finally diagnosed with food allergies). He cried almost constantly for months straight, and "J" was gone the majority of the time. Our first son was a light sleeper, so every time the baby cried, it woke him up as well. It was getting exhausting on my own.
When "J" was home, I started seeing him as my "helper", rather than my husband. I looked to him for rescue, turning a blind eye to his own needs. After we tucked the boys into bed at night, as soon as that door shut, I couldn't wait to finally sit down!
But "J" had other plans. He would immediately reach for me, and I would respond by saying, "Are you serious? Please, just let me sit down a minute". Then I'd fall asleep. This happened much more than I'd like to admit, but in my mind it was justified.
I was literally exhausted, and I worked hard. Very hard. We had continual plumbing problems, flooding, sewage back ups. I remember cutting grass in the summer heat with one baby in my "baby sling" and a toddler on my shoulders. We had no family in the area, and any friends we did have were at least 30 minutes away. There was also that little bitty detail that I absolutely hated to ask for favors. After all, I wouldn't live up to my title of being a "tough warrior bride", as "J" so often refereed to me, if I had help. I liked making him proud. I was stupidly independent.
After another year of training, and traveling, in February 2005 he deployed again. This time it was nine months to Iraq.
This deployment was a little different. We were blessed to have my sister inlaw and her husband move to the next town during this deployment. It was nice having family close by. They were always willing to help, if ever I asked.
We also had internet this go-round, complete with a webcam, but it seemed every time we were able to get on there, the baby would be screaming, or the toddler would be playfully climbing all over me, begging for attention.
So once again, my relationship with my husband was being put on hold. Time and time again, our conversations were interrupted. There were times I could barely even understand what he was saying through all the screaming, pulling, and dirty diapers.
I, personally, took this season like a grain of salt, assuming it was all part of "life", and we would get through it. Never once did I consider that my husband didn't quite see it that way. He felt neglected, and alone. He didn't communicate those feelings, and I was too distracted to pick up on them.
That June in 2005, I got news that a helicopter carrying many of my husband's fellow comrades, as well as close friends, was shot down in the mountains of Afghanistan. This devastated my husband much more than we ever bargained for.
Unbeknownst to me, he was struggling with great feelings of guilt. Guilt that only those in his shoes can ever completely understand. He started losing sleep, being haunted by thoughts of "what if", "if only", and "why".
He wasn't due home for another 4 months. During that time he began to drink. Heavily. It helped him sleep, and it helped dim the continual haunting thoughts that were racing through his mind.
He didn't want to talk to the guys he was deployed with about his struggles. To him, that was a sign of weakness. So during the times of drinking, he found himself in a chat room, talking to anybody who would listen. He met a "girl" (actually, the word "whore" would be much more appropriate, for she knew he was married) who had a very smooth way of talking, and listening. After a couple weeks of their conversations, they started mailing each other pictures, and in the months following that, they professed their love for one another.
He broke the news to me over the web cam by telling me not to be there when he came home. He told me he fell in love with somebody else, and that he didn't want anything to do with me, or our boys any longer. Every phone call I received from Iraq was in a drunken rage, during all hours of the night. He called me daily to tell me how in love he was with this *cough cough* girl, how angry he was, and that I was to "pack up my $#!*, and leave".
For months this went on. His tone never changed. Nothing but pure anger.
To be continued….
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
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