Monday, July 9, 2012

Windows & Doors

I'm in super-obsessive house mode right now, but this post isn't about building a house. It really has nothing to do with a house or literal windows and doors. Today has been a busy day, and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and put these thoughts out there.

I was thinking about this as I got ready this morning - often the only time I have to think about whatever I want to think about. I can't stand it when people say, "Well, God doesn't close a door without opening a window." Ugh.

I don't think God closes doors. Stay with me on this for a minute. I think that with God, the proper doors are wide open - the open doors indicate the way He wants us to go to live the very best life He has planned for us. Those doors are His way of shouting, "Hey, over here! This is the way I want you to go!" But do we listen? Nooooo. We say, "Ooooh, look at that window. I think I should go through it instead." Dumb. We are so dumb. I think we confuse windows for doors. Am I making sense here? We see the window and think that option looks so much better, all the while not realizing that we might be stepping out three stories off the ground with no balcony or safety net to catch us. And in choosing the window, we have automatically closed the door, ignoring God's will for our lives.

But when we realize we've screwed up (like we always do and always will, no matter how hard we try), our God is always there with His arms open wide, willing to forgive us for our shortcomings. Willing to forgive us for climbing through a window and doing things our own way, rather than His way.

Long story short, walk through the doors, folks. Thoughts?

Saturday, July 7, 2012

This is how it really is, folks.

I guess it's about time I fired this puppy back up, huh? I must warn you, this won't by my typical light-hearted post. No, I'm going to be honest with you all.

We are struggling. Life at Casa de Brightwell isn't quite sunshine and rainbows these days. It's actually more hissy fits and warranted tears. Brantley misses her daddy; I miss him, too. Can somebody please tell me how to properly explain to a 3-year-old that daddy is working...for a really long time?! Can somebody please tell me how to tread water and survive the next few months without letting this empty feeling swallow me whole?!

There are good days where the time passes quickly and I don't have much time to slow down and really think about it. But then there are days like today - days where I literally have to hold my breath just to make it through dinner. And days like today make me feel incredibly selfish. There are people going through things much worse right now, but sometimes it's hard to see beyond our walls. And inside these walls, there is one very precious baby girl curled up in a bed that her daddy won't sleep in for months. A precious baby girl who literally has to be peeled off me when I drop her off at daycare every morning - who knows daddy is "working" but doesn't understand why. I've lost count of the "I want my daddy" meltdowns. I've even lost count of my own "I want my husband" meltdowns.

I don't want pity, please don't mistake this for a pity-party. I only want the old "normal" back. Our new normal sucks, if I may be so frank. New normal is unfair to my children. New normal is already making me cold, numb.

I don't want him to worry. He has a very important job to do and his judgment can't for one second be clouded. Distractions are dangerous. I want him to think I have it all under control. But let's be honest - I don't. If he had a hidden camera view of our house from time to time, he'd certainly think we were coming apart at the seams! If Birdie cries, Grayson cries. If they both cry, guess who else cries...yep. Me. The poor dog must think we are all losing our minds, which is only partially false!

If I can offer one piece of advice to people who have never been through a deployment: if you don't know what to say, please for the love of all that's good, just don't talk. I swear, if I have to see one more "sympathy face" I may get physically ill. I know you mean well - and I don't doubt your sincerity. It's just that you don't really get it. And to be honest, I hope you never do. I don't wish this on anyone.

Just be patient with us as we adjust.