It's a marathon, not a sprint.

Well, here it is.  That dreaded "D" word.  In military families, it's like a 4-letter word.  That time when life shuts down, bags are packed, we buy stock in kleenex ... we buy stock in just about everything under the sun just to make sure hubby has what he needs in order to head to the sandbox.  Emotions play the roller coaster game - one minute they are up and we're sailing and doing fine and the next minute we're hitting that dreaded downward spiral and feel like we're going to lose our head and stomach contents in a matter of minutes.

This isn't my first time through this, and it probably won't be my last, but it doesn't get any easier the 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th time around.  In fact, it might be easier the first time because we're naive enough to not know the process and how painful predeployments are compared with the actual deployment.  Twelve months seems like an eternity and it's days like this that make me feel like that number - 365 days, 52 weeks, 12 months, 1 year - is a huge hurdle that made me stop rather than just soaring over it like it's nothing new.  I stand here and stare, like a gaping fool, at the absurdity of life for the next year without my best friend, lover, comedic relief, partner in just about everything and then some.  It's almost too much to grasp and handle emotionally - especially 2 days before I have to say "see ya soon" knowing full well it will be a good 6 months (mid-tour leave) before I'll get to see those amazing blue eyes in person again.

It's days like this, when the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I feel like I can't go on without feeling like I'm dragging sludge from one room to the next, that I remember God is literally carrying me. It's a literal reminder to me that He's in control.  My husband wouldn't be on a plane heading overseas if it weren't God's will.  It's easy to say that, and hard to truly live it.  Right now, the scriptures I meditate on throughout the summer seasons (see previous post for reference) are what carries me through these valleys and winters.  Friends who promise to pray for me have no idea how much it means to know that, in the valley of the shadow of death (figuritive), their prayers are there to help lift me out of the muck and the mire.  God IS a good shepherd and I, as part of his flock, have a heart that wants to wander into fear and the valley of discontent and not listen to the promises He has given to me throughout His Word.  When my friends stand in the gap for me, my wandering heart is reminded of God's Word that He will never (let me emphasize NEVER) leave me nor forsake me.  He will help me walk through this valley, through this winter season where part of me is pruned and dying off, so that when spring comes, He gets the glory and praise from these lips. 

So, friends, thank you so much for who you are and what you do.  The Lord has blessed me with your friendship - not because of what I "get" through your prayers, but in knowing that, without you, this journey would be much harder than it already is.  Jesus says, "where two or more are gathered in my name, I am with them...(Matthew 18).  No, my friends and I aren't literally in the same room, but I know that those prayers are heard from our Heavenly Father.  So, when I have days like today, when that hurdle seems to high for me to jump, and I just have to stop and stare like I can't go on, knowing those friends are praying for me helps me hop back into the race and keep running.  In the end, it doesn't matter if I finish first ... all that matters is that I finish. After all, it's a marathon, not a sprint.