52 Sundays

It was as if suddenly a light came on in my mind as I looked up from my seat in the living room at the dining room table. There sat 4 woman eating Sunday dinner as they always do. Why it didn't hit me sooner I don't know. They gathered as normal--dishing up the plates for the children, then serving themselves. I went to sit in the adjacent living room so that there would be room at the table as I usually do. But this time, when I looked up from my plate, I saw a very different setting. Each female was missing a partner. We were a house full of mainly woman this afternoon. It had happened before, but this time it seemed much more empty.

My heart sank as I looked at these 4 brave woman. Their husbands have been gone on several Sundays but this one was different. This Sunday was the first of 52 consectutive Sundays they would be gone.

I've been in denial for the past year about the boys leaving for training and then on to Iraq. Oh sure, I wrote about the day they got their letters and I've remembered them on patriotic holidays. And I knew they were going, but I think that I just pushed the thought aside thinking that I could actually push the time away.

My mother measures time in Sundays. Anytime I was gone for weeks at a time she would count the Sundays rather than other days because that is when we all gather together. Sunday is when you realize someone is missing. I guess that's why it hit me so hard this day when I looked up to see the remaining 4.

Their strength inspires me, these young wives and mothers, who have now taken on the father role as well. They will be the disciplinarian as well as the carer of scraped knees. They will cook the meals and take out the trash. They will tell the bedtime stories and check the closet for monsters. They will tuck the tiny ones into their beds and tell them everything will be alright and then go to their own beds and pray that it really will. For the next 52 Sundays, they will dine at the table alone, together.

It's going to be tough. There is no doubt about that. There will tears, worry, great fear, and at time anger at the absence of our boys. We will wish they didn't have to miss babies births and anniversaries. We will wish they could be here for holidays. We will wish they could be here for Sunday dinner.

But we will also realize how blessed we truly are to have one another to lean on and to have an already existing support group like we have.

We will count down the Sundays together. We will continue to gather and hold eachother up. We will make sure we laugh together and if need be, cry together. We will pray that God holds our boys safe in His loving arms and that He gives us the comfort that only He can give.

I don't think that I will ever get used to seeing the 4 empty chairs. And I know that their wives and children won't. And I'm thankful that we don't have to.

That is when I thank God and remember, it's only 52 Sundays--1 down, just 51 to go.