The Only Way to Explain...

The other day I tried to explain to a civilian friend just exactly why it is I'm "not allowed" to be upset, lose my mind, freak out, or show many other emotions that are so normal in everyone's life. Then today, I started cooking dinner at 1130, because it was quite possible that we would end up with dinner guests. The base had shut down, and no one was allowed to come or go. My house was open to anyone who might need a place to sleep or dinner that wasn't prepared by a greasy teen in plastic gloves. Ready at the drop of a hat, and there was nothing new or surprising about that situation.

All of that reminded me of words mostly attributed Erma Bombeck. She tells it beautifully. So I'll give you her words, because I cannot remotely explain my life any better.

When the Lord was creating a military wife He ran into His sixth day of overtime. An angel appeared and said, "You're having a lot of trouble with this one. What's wrong with the standard model?"

The Lord replied, "Have you seen the specs on this order? It has to be completely independent but must always be sponsored to get on a military installation. It must have the qualities of both mother and father during deployments, be a perfect host to 4 or 40, handle emergencies without an instruction manual, cope with flu and moves all around the world, have a kiss that cures anything from a child's bruised knee to a husband's weary days, have the patience of a saint when waiting for its mate to come home and, have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands? No way." The Lord answered, "Don't worry; we will make other military wives to help. Besides, it's not the hands that are causing the problem, it's the heart. It must swell with pride, sustain the ache of numerous separations while remaining true, beat soundly even when it feels too tired to do so, be large enough to say 'I understand' when it doesn't, and say 'I love you', regardless.

"Lord," said the angel, gently touching His sleeve. "Go to bed. You can finish it tomorrow." "I can't," said the Lord. "I'm so close to creating something quite unique. Already it can heal itself when sick, on a moment's notice it will willingly embrace and feed total strangers who have been stranded during a PCS move and it can wave goodbye to its husband understanding why he had to leave."

The angel circled the model of the military wife very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

"But tough," the Lord said excitedly. "You cannot imagine what this being can do or endure."

Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. "There's a leak," she said. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model." It's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear." "What's it for?" asked the angel. "It's for joy, sadness, pain, loneliness and pride." "You're a genius," said the angel.

Looking at her somberly, the Lord replied, "I didn't put it there."

Side note of the day: I could have posted the Silent Ranks poem, but I find that to be false advertising. I've never met a military wife who knew the meaning of "silent".

More different side note: I'll probably repost this in May, for Military Spouse Appreciation Day.