I am sleepy, but restless. I am exhausted, but anxious. It’s 12:40 a.m. — or 00:40, as my husband would say ... if he were here — and I’ve got to get some sleep before school tomorrow. I have to begin teaching at 7:30 a.m. If Brian were here, I’d ask him to throw his arm around me. The weight of his arm, the warmth of his body, and his deep, peaceful breathing would put me to sleep in no time.
Just one more reminder that he’s away from home, likely uncomfortable, and probably in danger.
Normally, I can fall asleep saying my prayers. The comfort that I feel thanking God for His unconditional love, the blessings we enjoy, and the love of our friends and family members reminds me of how little struggle our lives really include. This feeling usually lulls me into a restful sleep.
| I think of phone calls I need to initiate and return regarding the family members in Brian’s battery. I wonder how our wounded soldiers are doing. My brain is jumping from appointments to upcoming birthdays to how I will spend the holidays. |
According to the news, today was an intense day of attacks for our soldiers in Sadr City, Baghdad. No matter how much I try, I can’t help but picture in my mind the scenes from the news illustrating some of the violence of the day.
I wonder what Brian’s artillery battery was doing while the tanks from 2-5 CAV were taking hits from the al-Mahdi terrorists outside the walls of Camp Eagle. How can they make it through the stress of those kinds of days?
So, my mind is wandering ... jumping from thought to thought, worry to worry. I am thinking about the endless list of tasks and chores I have to complete before the end of the week, wishing Brian was here to help me.
In my mind, I’m tossing around ideas regarding the management of my responsibilities at work. I think of my fourth-graders ... their needs, their triumphs, the ways they make me laugh. I am wondering how many other spouses from our battery are still awake ... most, I’m sure. We all seem to be insomniacs this year.
I think of phone calls I need to initiate and return regarding the family members in Brian’s battery. I wonder how our wounded soldiers are doing. My brain is jumping from appointments to upcoming birthdays to how I will spend the holidays.
Interrupting every idea that I get in my head is the concern I feel for Brian’s safety.
He sounded just fine on the phone the last time I talked to him. His voice sounded healthy, his attitude was optimistic. Today is a different day for him. I hang on to the hope that it’s a good one.
I think of the conversations that I’ve had this week. My friend Sam is very worried and hurt that she hasn’t heard from her husband in over a month and a half. He has one of those jobs that keeps him away from his camp (and phones, computers, postal service) frequently.
Logically, we know he’s OK. Otherwise, Sam would know by now, but being a civilian at home, it’s hard to imagine a scenario that would keep a person away from the phone for so long.
The mother of one of the Charlie Battery soldiers called the other day to find out the “real truth” about what is happening in Sadr City. She shared with me that her son protects her from the realities of his day-to-day life, but she felt like she wanted to know the truth.
She felt that Brian would have told me “the real deal” about the violence at Camp Eagle. This is a question that always makes me feel strange. Is this person really seeking reassurance or the truth?
I decided long ago that it is not my place to decide this, so I try to answer her question to the best of my ability.
I think about Brian again, and the feeling of longing that I have in my heart almost aches. Nights are difficult for most of us. As I try to finish my prayers, my eyelids finally get heavy and my brain slows down. I am starting to feel more relaxed.
I wake, startled! The phone is ringing. It’s 06:04! I recognize the number. It’s Sam ... whew! Her husband called. He is fine and was so sorry that he couldn’t reach her for so long. Every time he was able to return to his camp, the phones weren’t working. She and I both breathe a sigh of relief and admit that we should have known that problems with the phones were the most obvious reason for her husband’s inability to call.
Relieved, we both begin another day knowing that God has given each of us another day of life with our soldiers in our lives.
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