My husband is flying a humanitarian air drop mission into Iraq right now. The bottled water and food from his C-130 crew are the answer to prayer for hungry and thirsty Christians driven from their homes.

I wonder if the bad guys in Iraq will try to stop him.

I sit on my front porch in Georgia watching neighborhood traffic and I wish all the cars would stop driving back and forth as if everything is normal. I want to shout at them but it comes out as a whisper.

My 5-year-old daughter likes it when I read a book to her from when I was little. It’s titled The Daddy Book and it’s out of print now. When I have finished reading, I close the book and she says, “I used to have a Daddy. But he’s lost.”

That is what I am afraid of. Some things are worse than death. I know that my husband has been highly trained to meet the enemy face to face, though he doesn’t talk to me about that. I tell him that I am waiting for him. I need him to know that

I.

Am.

Waiting.

I sit in church on Sunday mornings while he is deployed and I sing words like, “God is perfect and great.” If something happened to my husband, I wonder if I would still sing those words. Would I sing them then? Would I?

I’ve decided that I would, because I already am.

We have a choice, each of us. We can wallow in our circumstances or embrace them. We can choose fear or courage. When we look for God’s blessings, it’s a treasure chest. I can prove it to you.

I show people my husband’s picture, wherever I go. I say, “Isn’t he good looking?” My picture is what keeps him going most days. We’ve been married 18 years, and here we are gazing at each other’s pictures as if we just met. I drop what I’m doing and run to the computer when he calls to FaceTime or Skype. Our children and I are the bright spot in his life. I don’t need to quibble, criticize, argue or work anything out in my marriage. Tomorrow, all I need as a wife is to hear six words: “We’re done flying and I’m okay.”

Whenever my husband deploys, on his days off he works out at the run-down military gym — with duct tape holding the equipment together at this particular base. He always comes back home from the desert looking rather buff and char-grilled.

I find that extremely attractive.

I’m sorry, was I writing a blog?

He has been talking with other servicemen over there about how they’ve built a Godly family. We text and e-mail each other the silliest things you could imagine. I laugh the way I did when we were first married. This deployment is one of the most romantic things that could happen in a marriage.

While my husband flies missions, or waits to get called to fly, I scrub bathrooms, paint shelves and clean out closets to distract me from my jitters. My toddler helped me bag up almost a dozen huge bags of stuff to donate to charity. I hang out with my children. I lie on their beds and talk about nothing and everything.

I’m making a deliberate effort to interact with other Earthlings while he is away, so I will not go coo-coo. I’ve become a better friend. As a way to bless others and stop thinking about ourselves, my daughters and I participated in worship at our church: my girls danced beautifully with three of Joe and Rhonda Robinson’s children while I sang “Hallelujah” by Heather Williams.

If my husband hadn’t been deployed, none of that would have happened. I don’t like it when my husband is deployed. Whenever something is brewing in the world, my husband is often there, doing his duty.

The sick feeling I get in my stomach is exactly the same as it was 20 years ago. If you asked me, “Hey there Jennifer the self proclaimed Triumphant Chick, what is your least favorite thing in the entire world?” It would be a tie between deployments and pregnancy.

But I am so very proud of my husband’s honorable military service. I’m honored to be his wife. He is someone’s lifeline right now. I sometimes feel that I’m his lifeline. What an honor. I realize how blessed I am to scrub, paint, organize and sing while the stranded people my husband is helping in Iraq wait for food and supplies to fall to them from the sky.

My husband took a picture at sunrise from the control tower of his not so luxurious base, when he was pulling an overnight shift on July 4. It was 115 degrees.

Nary a blade of grass can be seen by the human eye, only dust. My husband saw past the dry desert and thought the sunrise was beautiful.

We can become strong during our weakness. We can look for the good hidden in the loneliness. The exhaustion. The danger. God wants to show us the sunrise in the dry desert.   [by Jennifer Houlihan, www.TriumphantChicks.com]

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