Army Mom Strong

It’s been a rough few days as I’ve learned about the conditions of the place where TB now finds himself. Little heat, scarce food, personal belongings not yet brought in, including TB’s mail that arrived while he was on leave. Mail that ironically could provide some warmth and nutrition. Sigh. It is what it is. All I can do is try to get the word out, pull people together, and go from there. I am so thankful for those who have answered the call. I pray that all the boxes sent to TB and his buddies arrive in good time. One of his buddies has yet to receive a box I sent on 10 November. A week later I sent TB and a buddy boxes with Christmas cards for their soldiers to send to loved ones back home. When those finally arrive maybe the guys can build a fire and heat up some food. Although the food, sleeping conditions, and cold concern me, I know the guys will be fine. They can handle those things. Soldiers have dealt with such conditions for centuries.

Days pass without a new post because at times I honestly don’t know how to express what I’m thinking or feeling. My purpose in writing this blog was to put my thoughts in writing and to convey what it’s like from my point of view to go through a deployment. What happens, though, when you’re afraid to think?

A short online conversation with TB this morning reminded me that the living conditions are the least of his concerns. His thoughts were scattered, as if there were specific things he had on his mind to tell me. And although the conversation went in several directions, he kept going back to one thing. I try to analyze his words and read between the lines. Why did he mention three times the one aspect of his job that he has absolutely no control over, the one thing that causes him the greatest concern? Why did he ask me to pray for him? To prepare me? To get it off his chest?

His job frightens me, but I know he is well trained and he is very good at what he does. He’s been looking forward to this change because he’s doing what he loves. I find comfort in that. I’m glad he trusts me not to fall apart on him, but sometimes I wonder if he might view my non-emotional response as lack of concern. When he was in Iraq he said he couldn’t deal with the thought of me worrying about him. I learned then to keep my emotions in check. No “OMG!” or “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you!” Nothing along those lines. He trusts me to be strong, so I sit here, my eyes filled with tears that TB will never know about, and I pray.