That's what I said, inside my head when CJ mentioned the possibility of a re-deployment.
Lord, I don't know if I can get through another deployment. Please take this cup away from our family!
Those were my next thoughts.
What I wanted to do was just let my knees buckle and slide to the floor and cry. And beg God not to let this happen.
That's not good news at all, I said very rationally and calmly. He reiterated it wasn't 100% certain it would happen. I'm already praying it doesn't, is what I said.
That's not good news at all, I said very rationally and calmly. He reiterated it wasn't 100% certain it would happen. I'm already praying it doesn't, is what I said.
This potential deployment isn't about me, at all, but since his last deployment, CJ and I have had an understanding.
In every family, there's usually someone who's the glue. You know, the person who keeps the other family members connected -- organizes get-togethers, celebrates special days, takes pictures, etc. In our family, CJ thinks that person is me and I accept that characterization.
In every family, there's usually someone who's the glue. You know, the person who keeps the other family members connected -- organizes get-togethers, celebrates special days, takes pictures, etc. In our family, CJ thinks that person is me and I accept that characterization.
Here's where the understanding comes in -- if I am the glue for our family, he's my glue. He keeps me focused and able to do these things. I'm creating memories, traditions, etc., for him. For his children. Without him, I cannot hold it together. I cannot hold anything together.
Rationally, I know I may be jumping the gun, but if his unit is redeployed and if something happens to him, I won't have my glue and I know I will fall apart without my glue.
Now, while all this is going through my mind in the course of mere nano-seconds, Life continues in real time. . .
Instead of crumpling to the floor, I continued to brush my teeth and get dressed for my morning bike ride. Instead of crying behind my dark glasses, I smiled and waved good morning to other cyclists.
So, the Oscar for looking perfectly normal while having an emotional breakdown goes to. . .me.

I'll keep you both in my prayers (praying that it doesn't come to that).
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