I sat there, sipping my mocha, while our daughter rolled a ball across the floor, back and forth, and periodically tried to escape from the little corner where we had planted ourselves in, waiting for them to call the flight. I took a picture or two of father and daughter, grinning, holding each other close. And then, before I was ready for it, he was hugging me one last time, and getting into line to board his flight — the flight that would take him, first to training, and then to the other side of the globe, to fight for freedom and safety.
He stepped onto the jetway, and I turned toward the exit, holding back tears as my daughter toddled along beside me, totally oblivious to what had just happened. In a daze I walked back outside, strapped my daughter in her seat, and then drove across town before the tears finally hit.
He was gone.
Today I'm guest posting over at The Mudroom Blog. Come on over and read more about our first deployment and how God worked on my heart through that season of fear.
Hop on over to The Mudroom Blog here: