There is this beautiful thing that can happen… even when one’s love is on deployment. This little breath of air and drawing back of a curtain from the haze of every day reality that clarifies things for just a split seconds and makes you realize…
I am married. I share my soul with someone.
I cast a bit of my brokenness over the lines in an email. I tremble to do so because it goes against the Navy Wife code. You never write an email or a letter about something that is wrong until it is fixed.
But what do I do when I am the thing that is broken and in need of repair?
I don’t feel safe in a relationship unless I can lay the good and bad at the feet of the person who claims to love me and know that they won’t flinch but will some how reach out to comfort and restore a part of what is hurting in me.
If I have to wait six months to lay some of my mess and brokeness–especially when that mess and brokeness is amplified in the crucible of a deployment–then my heart shrinks away and mistakenly thinks that I cannot trust my husband. I grow numb and cold.
And that kind of thing can kill us.
But if in some capacity, I can lay some of that hurt and sorrow and ache on him
AND even better, if he is able to respond.
Then I see what it means to truly be One.
I was enchanted by Madeleine L’Engle’s idea of Kything from the second I first read A Wind in the Door. Prokinoskes insists that ‘where doesn’t matter,’ but that somehow the essence of you can truly be with the essence of another regardless of distance or location.
In A Ring of Endless Light Vicki sends a desperate call out to Adam Eddington–with her being and her soul, she wishes for him there.
And he comes to help bear her back to the light. He hears her from a distance in an internal sort of way. And he comes and I cry every time.
There are moments of every deployment when I catch a glimpse of that. Emails that go back and forth that seem to hum a similar tune… Words that give me a glimpse of how my husband is growing… and I catch a fleeting vision of the good that is being wrought in all the hard.
Messages that he has penned that hold my fragile, stretched thin heart with such tenderness.
It’s already been long enough that I don’t quite remember what it feels like to have his hand graze mine.
I have to focus on specific parts of him to remember the whole of what he looks like.
I haven’t been enfolded in his arms in so long that I have to work to recall the way the smell of him, the feel of him, the strength of him can wrap around me.
But he can still wrap me in his words and in his love. He can still lift me to The Father in his prayers.
Somehow the Oneness doesn’t fade with distance. It is able to stretch.
This is not to say that deployments can’t be brutal to a marriage. They can. There is a re-weaving that has to happen on the other side and a re-negotiation of what things will look like.
Distance doesn’t always make the heart go fonder. It can sometimes make the heart go numb.
But even so… There can be these moments in the middle of the missing and the feeling of acute separation and the wondering if every day you are both changing in ways that might not easily mesh back together. There can be these fleeting moments in the midst of the pain of the missing…
In the middle of that, there are these moments when you look up and KNOW down to your toes that YOU. ARE. MARRIED to this man that you love…
And that somehow across thousands of miles and spanning the continents and the oceans that separate us our love wraps around one another.
Sometimes the where doesn’t matter.
Distance cannot change the truth that we have been made One.
Why, yes I DO Facebook!