Do you know what “waiting on the Lord” looks like to me? For our first family trip since my husband returned from his second deployment to Iraq, we decided to visit a friend in Colorado Springs. This was to be an important visit—a tender one—as this friend’s husband had been killed during that first deployment. But it is a long drive from central Texas to Colorado Springs, and attitude means everything.
The Strait of Gibraltar is a significant marker in our sea journey. To sailors of old, it was the last marker of the known world. To the strategist, Gibraltar represents a rock or fortress that will not move when all else is a mess. To the insurance company Prudential, it spawned a slogan “Like a rock.” To the psalmist, the rock represents the Lord as a fortress and deliverer from whom faith can be launched, sustained, and secured.
A friend in North Carolina introduced me to “standing for your marriage” as a concept and movement. I had always known there were those who refused to give up on their dying or dead marriage—but I had never heard it called “standing”. Since then I have paid close attention to articles, books, websites, testimonies, and seminars about standing. I know in the military community the stresses on a marriage can cause either the husband or wife—sometimes both—to say, “Enough! I’m done!”
When I see it—in actions, words, or formal presentation, it’s always a favorite combination . . . power with tenderness . . . When I first read Eric Blehm’s book on the life of Navy SEAL Adam Brown, "Fearless", I was struck by this description: “Known for his compassion, Adam was always the first to do something like break open a light stick for a baby to play with or give a candy bar to a terrified child. But he wasn’t the only one. In a group of men whose business is killing, the fury they release upon the enemy is rivaled only by the humanity they display for innocents caught in the crossfire.”
You’ve flown on airliners—and no doubt recall the flight attendant reminding you that “if there is a drop in cabin pressure, an oxygen mask will drop down. Pull it towards you, etc. etc. etc. and oxygen will begin flowing even if the bag does not inflate.” Something like that. Then the important reminder—“if you are traveling with small children, remember to put the oxygen mask on you first, and then put it on your children.” This seems counter-intuitive, but the point is—oxygen-starved parents cannot help their children. We recently returned from being with military members at a marriage conference. There we saw active-duty service members, along with a thousand other attendees at a Weekend to Remember, spending time to focus on their marriages. . . in some cases, to “pull down the oxygen mask.”
She was a strong woman. Perhaps that came from being the oldest of seven—no doubt a rowdy bunch. Perhaps it came from growing up during The Great Depression and having to work hard at home. Perhaps it came from having two pretty strict parents who expected a lot from their kids. She was strong even in the days when it might not have been the “norm” to be a strong woman.
I remember sitting on the front porch of our new quarters –you know, the “townhouses” crammed side-by-side around a parking lot. Kids everywhere. I remember speaking the words, “What in the world am I doing here?” and hoping no one heard me (yea, right—neighbors were in ear-shot of everything!).
What would happen if we viewed deployment as an opportunity for character-building in our military children? I am going to share what two influential theologians have to say about this topic of parenting under tough circumstances. One is Chip Ingram, president of Living on the Edge Ministries and author of eleven books, including Effective Parenting in a Defective World. Toward the end of his book, Ingram chooses what he calls “five smooth stones” (referring to the five stones young David picked to slay Goliath) for parenting—in order to help your children slay the giants in their lives.
"This isn’t just a job for me. This is my calling, and I need you to share my calling." As he described his commitment to the Army, my husband’s voice was filled with emotion. It grabbed my attention. Rob and I were attending an intensive marriage retreat before the first of three deployments to Iraq. God opened my eyes that day to an essential element of both Rob’s service in the military and our marriage.
I opened my email one morning and read a message from a sweet military wife whose husband was in Afghanistan. She had been reading postings on Excellent or Praiseworthy, and was grateful for the encouragement. Then she closed her comment with, “I’m so thankful for America, a free country that allows me to know what true freedom is in Christ!”