There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13 If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s avoiding things I don’t handle well. Like this picture. Because when you love someone, you hate to see them hurting. Yet every time I see that picture, I am confronted with my DH’s face, dusty and tear stained. I’ve never seen it look like that in person, yet there it is. It was there when I picked up my newspaper that morning, and on the news report on TV.  It’s there in the Google search engine.  And there’s nothing camera shy DH could do to stop that. Because that’s his friend under that flag. And that’s his shoulder his friend is on. And that’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. Despite the dangers, the rockets, the sand, the fighting, the close calls, the IED’s and all those other things he experienced in 3 deployments to Afghanistan that he may never share with me, he will tell you it was the times he was on that tarmac while the piper played and they said goodbye before heading back to work… those were the hardest moments. And even though this photo is already over 4 years old, DH’s tears always, always make my heart break. ____ This is my grandfather. He’s a 92 year old veteran of WWII. When talking to DH about Afghanistan, DH told him about something he was given when he got back.  My Poppa replied “I was in the artillery.  All I got was…

Some days, you forget what it was like when she was in your arms for that brief moment, tiny and silent and purple before they whisked her away to that other hospital. Some days you forget that even though she was one of the biggest babies in that NICU,she looked so very small compared to the machines that made sure she kept breathing. Some days you don’t remember how much you longed to take her home, to leave the beeping and the worry and the cords behind. Those are usually the days you forget about the chair you slept in, the curtain wall you lived behind and the sound of the breast milk pump that made you feel like a milk cow. Sometimes, looking at her now, you forget how big that soother was against her tiny face. And how many desperate, exhausted, tearful prayers were answered when you brought her home for the first time Sometimes, you forget that like every single baby, she is a miracle. And today, that miracle turns 7. Some days, we just need that reminder as you grow up before our eyes, that once upon a time just getting you to breathe was a struggle. Once you got the hang of that, well, regardless of the battles we will face from here on out, everything else you will acheive is just icing on the cake. Happy birthday, Drama.  There are so very many ways you are beautiful. ****PS: I can’t seem to get my Disqus to work.  Could you try and comment and let me know by facebook or twitter if you can’t…

The majority of married couples report that their biggest source of tension is money. DH and I have never once in our marriage argued about money.   We don’t have much of it to argue about, and DH doesn’t really care what happens with what we do have.  For a man who’s biggest expenditures are when I force him to buy a new pair of combat boots, there’s not a lot to fight about. That’s not to say DH and I don’t do our share of fighting uselessly about crap that doesn’t really matter.  Our biggest battle is just a little different. Cleaning. Dh lived with his parents until he joined the army as a teenager. His super clean mom may be the definition of perfect military wife, I like to call her the definition of unreasonably high expectations.  She keeps an impeccable home.  Sparkling floors and daily vacuuming (sometimes more than once), windows always washed, everything constantly dusted and even that little cupboard under the sink is clean and organized all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother in law, she’s the perfect military mom to have because she’s been where we are and she knows the best ways to be supportive. I just can’t compete woth her house. I don’t even try.   Thing is, Dh he joined the army and shortly thereafter married and moved in with me. I am not dirty, but I am no clean freak.   When we were first married he would go away often and our little house would go to ruin.  I would keep it clean enough…

I actually wrote something! ….Just not here. My attitude needs to be adjusted.  Dramatically.  And I wrote about it over at Wives of Faith this week. As much as I wish it was the story of holding on with every last fiber of your being…..  It’s the story of Letting Go. http://aligoldfield.wordpress.com/2012/08/28/learning-to-let-go-when-youve-made-a-mistake/ So head over to the Wives of Faith page and read it.  And leave me a note.  Because you all know how I feel about comments.  It’s here, by the way.  Just —>click here<—– for those of you who might not find it, I wanted to make it easier…