from the sandbox
I’ve been reluctant in posting about my husband. Not because I haven’t wanted to, but mostly because of this teeny little thing called “OPSEC”, short for Operation Security. Basically it means I sit here trying to compose a post. I write a few lines… and reread… and think about what I’ve written… and then I delete.
I know things that I cannot post here. I know that I know things that I cannot post here. Problem is there is no one to tell me which things I can post here and which things I cannot. Army wives don’t receive that kind of training, but we should. There is a miniscule difference between a scrap of meaningless information and a snippet of knowledge that could be used for harm.
If you delve deeply enough into the military spouse community, you will find this a common topic. In my own experience, I’ve found my fellow Army wives are quick to caution each other about the need to protect our husbands’ anonymity, especially while deployed in a combat zone. “Careless keystrokes kill” is the phrase I see used the most.
And now that I’ve scared myself silly once again, let me tell you what I know I can tell you.
Caleb is well. And healthy. And as wonderful as always.
He works. And he runs. He runs a lot. Maybe because it is the only way to relieve stress. Maybe because it is something “normal”. Maybe a little of both.
He calls when he can. Which is not as often as I’d like. But, really, its given me the chance to relearn old morals in a new way. Like “he who can give thanks for an email will always find he has enough” and “good things come to those who wait by the phone all morning”.
Sometimes he tells me about his day. Usually he doesn’t (refer to OPSEC above). Instead we talk about how smart the rats are in Iraq. And about how quickly a dust storm can creep up on you.
Over here we take a lot of things for granted. Things like eating meals with real silverware. Or going to the bathroom in the middle of the night without carrying an M16. He doesn’t have those sorts of luxuries.
But what he does have is a choice. And an experience. One that is shaping him. And me, and also our children. And because he chooses to find joy in life, no matter what the experience may bring, I know we are all being shaped for the better.
If you choose to look close enough, there is beauty to be found everywhere. Even Iraq.
It is ironic, how that the most beautiful sight in Iraq is actually a place where pictures are prohibited. And that place is...a chow hall. Doesn't really matter which one it is. It's one of the few places we have to relax and chat, enjoying a genuinely good meal.