I did not intend this blog to be a soapbox or a rant fest -- just funny stories and pics of my kids.  My heart is heavy, though, and I need to get this off my chest.

I've been a military wife for about 10 years...and was active duty myself for seven years, and reserves before that.  All in all, I've been part of the military life in some way or another for almost 17 years.

The military life involves a lot of sacrifice along with the benefits.  Yes, we get free health care.  (Yes, it's a pain to access most of the time.)  Yes, we get a nice housing allowance, but we also get the joy of reconfiguring our belongings every 3 years or so to fit the new house -- which also involves selling and buying a house every 3 years.  Yes, we get to go places and see things that many people don't -- but we also rip up our roots (as fragile or strong as they may be) and say goodbye to dear friends every few years, too.

The biggest sacrifice, though, is deployments.  In the pre-9/11 years, these were usually fairly calm, brief, and manageable affairs.  We had been married 3 months when Hubby was deployed to Saudi Arabia -- a 3 month "routine" deployment where he had very little chance of being shot at, and would be home soon.  Oh, and we had no kids, so while I was lonely, I only had me (and our rather old and creaky "new" house) to deal with.  On my days off I could go to dinner with friends, walk the mall, sit through a movie, or just stay all day in my pajamas and have a good cry if I wanted.  We only had one 15 minute call per week back then, but I was also in the military at the time so when I was at work (if we managed the time difference right) I could squeeze in extra calls on the Defense Switched Network.  When  he finally came home, I could whisk him off to a B&B for 3 days to get, um, reacquainted.  It was a little difficult on our new marriage, but definitely manageable.

Fast forward nearly 10 years.  We've rather artfully avoided the deployment calls because Hubby went back to do another residency, and they don't send you away in the middle of training.  However, that was finished over a year ago, and we knew the clock was ticking.  However, this time we have three small children, and we live in the remotest part of the United States -- a frozen island, if you will.  (It might as well be an island given the difficulty in returning to the CONUS by road this time of year.)  Oh yeah, and there's a war going on -- two of them, in fact.  The three months in a peacetime base has become six months in a war zone.

The cost of freedom is this:
-- Watching your beautiful children sit in your husband's lap, all of them sobbing (including Daddy) because they can't really bear to say goodbye
-- Explaining to little people that no, Daddy won't be there for your birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, your piano/violin recitals, your school picnic, etc. etc.  He won't see you finish potty training or graduate from Kindergarten.
-- Trying to calm your child down because she's crying so hard she can't swallow her breakfast, or wants to crawl in bed with you because he misses Daddy so much he can't sleep
-- Jumping on the phone the second it rings -- just in case it's him calling
-- Burying your face in the last pieces of dirty laundry left behind by the love of your life, breathing in his smells, imagining him holding your for just a split second
-- Trying to decide which is worse -- watching the news/reading the paper and risk needless worrying, or avoiding it all and not knowing what is happening
-- Knowing in your heart that you can't guarantee Daddy will be home -- but trying to explain that God is good no MATTER what happens
-- Mentally making plans in case the worst happens, which you can't do without imagining the worst happening
-- Asking God every day -- every MOMENT -- for the strength to get out of bed, face the day with a happy face, and be the Mommy (& Daddy) those dear children need so they can face their day.

Maybe you don't agree with the war(s).  Maybe you think these sacrifices are needless.  Regardless, the men and women in uniform signed up to give their lives so you can have the freedom to have those opinions.  When you go to vote, think of the troops.  When you go to worship where you choose without fear of reprisal, think of the troops.  When you put obnoxious, offensive bumper stickers on your car or write your controversial blog, think of the troops.   THEY are why you still have the freedoms to do these things. 

Count the cost.  Don't take it for granted.  Freedom is not free.