Our Journey #1.2: Finding Old Treasures

                                       

In our quest to share our story, I've been going through old journal entries to try and recapture important details and lessons. I remembered writing a little bit on another blog, but couldn't quite remember everything I'd included there. Tonight, I scanned through it and found that I had 19 entries on that blog detailing almost exactly what I wanted to share with you all here! So I'm going to post a few of those entries that chronicle major parts of our journey and the emotions felt and lessons learned. (I apologize for the redundancy of some of the information to my previous post, but I didn't want to edit details out for fear of the following posts not making sense.)
Click here if you'd like to take a look at the original blog.

The Call

February 2005. I remember well the moment the call came. We were living at my in-laws, relaxing in the living room for a moment before heading to bed. I answered the telephone and a voice asked for Sgt. Ericksen. Calls often came for my husband from men in his battery as he was a member of a field artillery unit with the Army National Guard. I handed him the phone and then busied myself, unconcernedly, in the living room. As I was walking back toward the kitchen my husband stepped in front of me and held up a paper with the words he had just scribbled on it: "Iraq, March _".

My heart jumped into my throat and I whispered, "Are you serious?" He was a jokester and had teased me sometimes with the idea of his deployment, but this time I could tell it was different. He nodded his head as he continued to listen to the speaker on the other end. I immediately began sobbing and leaned into his chest, unable to control myself. He held me for a moment, but then pushed me away, not wanting the man on the phone to hear. I ran into the bedroom and closed the door, collapsing onto my bed in tears. How could this be happening? We usually heard rumors through the guard, which unit was being deployed next, when the next unit would be home. But this came with no warning at all. And I was 2 months pregnant with our second child. Would it ever know its daddy? I pushed the thought out of my mind. Immediately I began to pray.

I poured out my soul to my Father in Heaven, pleading for strength and peace. I began to calm down. By nature I am not a very reactionary person, so for this to affect me as it did was unnerving. Soon I exited my bedroom and went to sit next to my husband, my soldier. His parents had been in the front room, reading together and had no idea what had been going on in their home the last few minutes.

Sharing the News

As Braden's parents walked into the room, they could sense something was wrong. His mom looked at my puffy, red eyes in concern, but didn't say anything. Braden looked at me and said "Want to tell them the news?" "No" I said firmly. "I don't want to tell anyone." Braden obviously didn't want to tell them, either. After a few awkward moments, I told them about the phone call, not meeting their eyes as I did so. They sat in stunned silence for a moment and then the quesions began.

Braden had been called up into a unit that was not his own. The unit being called out was short a few people and Braden had been out of the country when his own unit had been deployed a year earlier, so his name was high on the list for possible fill-ins. Thus, the surprise at the call and the limited preparation time we all had before he was deployed. On the up-side, the unit he was going with had already been training for three months so his own deployment would be that much shorter in comparison to theirs. One looks for the up-side in these kind of situations.

The next few weeks went by in a blur. After I got over my own shock, I was able to tell my mom. I broke the news casually in her kitchen as she was preparing dinner. I didn't want everyone else to hear, to turn it into a big deal. After hearing the news, my mom immediately came and put her arms around me asking "Are you okay?" "Yeah," I said, not sure if it was really true. I had accepted it as something that was going to happen by then, and felt ready to face the challenge. Was I okay, though? I'm not sure if military wives are ever okay faced by the prospect of their husbands leaving for war. But we learn to find strength. We gain it from our faith, our family and friends, and our own personal support groups. It becomes merely something that has to be done, and we are the ones chosen to do it. There is little time or energy for self-pity or worry. Allowing those demons into our lives is too destructive and we are smart enough, and strong enough, to replace that with the truth that we are serving something much greater than ourselves.

With Braden's deployment I gained the knowledge and testimony of what freedom truly means, what things are worth sacrificing for. I gained an understanding that we who are so blessed in this great country have an obligation, an opportunity to serve others less fortunate than ourselves. We are no longer in a community, a city, or a country. We are a world full of the human race, needing each other to stand strong, to serve and to love. We are God's children, and as such, we are brothers and sisters fighting through this life in way one or another, and the more we can do for each other, the easier the fight and the better this world will be.

My dad's immediate reaction when he heard the news was to offer us a place to stay while Braden was gone. We'd had an offer in to buy a house, but I was too scared to try a new home, new neighborhood, a new baby and no husband, all at the same time. I gratefully accepted my dad's kind offer and soon after that the real preparations began.

Our Journey #1: The Call

When I married Braden, I'd had very little experience with military life. I knew he was a soldier, that his dad and brother were soldiers, and he was proud of being part of his family heritage of serving our country. That was one thing that endeared me to him. I admired his courage and patriotism (and the way he looked in his uniform didn't hurt either). As long as I had known him, his military service consisted of a one weekend a month commitment to the Army National Guard, and in my naivete I assumed that was all the Army would ever take from our lives. For a year-and-a-half, that's all they did take, aside from an annual two week training and periodic three or four day weekend drills. 

We busily started our lives together, having our daughter 11 months after our marriage and working toward saving up money to buy our first home. My husband worked for a successful woodworking company, making his way quickly up the ranks to a management position. I was happy and content as a stay-at-home mom, spending my time with our baby girl and playing homemaker.

We found ourselves pregnant with our son just 11 months after our daughter was born, and we were thrilled. The timing was perfect because we had finally saved up enough for a down payment on a perfect little first home, and were waiting to hear back from the sellers on whether or not they would accept our offer.

Life was working out perfectly for our little family, just as I had always dreamed and planned. 

And then the call came.

I'm not sure if other military families experience "the call" the same way we did. Usually, military units hear rumors that they will be called up for weeks before the actual orders, so they have some time to mentally prepare. Braden, however, had been serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints when his own unit had been called up, so his name was on a list of reservists available to fill in for other units in the state that performed the same job as his, called "sister units." And it just so happened the Braden's sister unit needed some spots filled in. 

So for us, the call was a little more like a punch in the gut: unexpected and out of nowhere. I remember him answering the phone with his usual, "This is Braden," and then his tone getting very official and respectful as he spoke to someone who was obviously a commander of some kind. Braden grabbed a piece of paper and pencil and wrote down "Iraq, 3 weeks" and showed it to me. I whispered "Are you serious?" and he nodded his head. I immediately burst into tears, wanting to hold onto him and hope this was all a bad dream. Braden turned away from me so his commander wouldn't be able to hear his wife sobbing into the receiver. I ran to the bedroom.

So many thoughts tumbled through my mind. I was four months pregnant, we had just put an offer in on a house, our little girl was just starting to talk, he would be missing so much. How were we going to do this? How was I going to do this?

We withdrew the offer on the house and decided I would move in with my parents while Braden was away.  We filled the next three weeks with as much quality family time we could cram in. Extended family came from out of town for get-togethers, and our little family of three stayed glued to each others' sides. I didn't realize how happy and sad I could feel at the same time. Every night we fell asleep, I felt so blessed to be in his arms and so sad that one more day had already passed until he had to leave.

The first goodbye was the easiest. Braden was only heading out to training stateside for a couple of months, so we knew we'd be together again for a little bit before he was shipped to the Middle East. We didn't know yet how painful it would be to spend even just a few weeks away from each other. But we still cried and held onto each other until the very last moment. I held our little girl up to the airport window where I hoped he could see her and we waved bye bye to Daddy until the plane was long gone.

During this time in my life, and during many others, our light and hope came from family, friends, and neighbors. We were and are so blessed to have supportive, compassionate, loving people surrounding us. I cannot count the amazing acts of service, the kind words, the cards and gifts, and the constant offers of help at any time of need.

I would rely heavily on these amazing people during this time and in the years to come.