A closed door

We had prepared to say goodbye.  It's funny how I process it all.  The separation doesn't seem so hard when looking at the whole beforehand.  True, from that perspective, it has a daunting and overwhelming panorama, but it is still far off and has yet to cut deep.

I was ready, or so I thought, for RSLC.  Hopes of seeing Daniel every few nights made the course different from Ranger School.  But my tears and our nerves in the car on the way to base were not totally unlike those of Ranger School.

The drop off was smooth, but it is the re-entry back into the details of his absence that haunt.

The stillness of the home.  The unfulfilled space.  The hopes of the heart, that had been trained over this past month to imagine time together, become utterly hopeless.  How to live a lifestyle of Thanksgiving in this?

There is a sinking feeling; a feeling quite like despair.

But, Tirzah and I sit out front, sweet Baby Girl, enjoying a lunch of pear, banana, and yogurt.  The heat in all  it's warmth causes me to take off my sweatshirt and upon resurfacing...

my Love!  my Soldier, my Daniel running towards me through the limbs and leaves of the neighboring lawn!

Lord can it be?!  Are you really doing this for us?!  This gift??

26 days together... not apart!  Because the Lord had a plan above even our own.  Because the Lord is sovereign and can make something beautiful and right and always for our good.

And so the Lord closed the door on RSLC.  After an hour or so of waiting, Daniel and his friends from IBOLC learned that they did not have a slot in the course.  So instead of eating dinner quietly and alone and spending an evening accompanied by the sounds of the creaking walls and the ice machine, the Lord filled our night with fellowship and laughter, and with the warmth of my husband's presence.