No sooner did my son graduate from boot camp than we were notified he would be deployed to Iraq. I knew this moment was coming, but I still wasn’t ready for it.
In early March, all the military moms and wives in our area got phone calls from our men.
“Pray for us,” said William. “I don’t know when we’ll talk again.”
About a week later, the war officially began. I’ll never forget it the war started on William’s nineteenth birthday. Then it was four months 112 days without any communication. I searched for every broadcast there might be, looking for a glimpse of my son or information about his unit. For long stretches of time I was just glued to the TV because I didn’t want to miss something. It was so unbelievably difficult.
When the first casualties list came out on April 7, 2003, it was devastating. You grieve for the families who have lost their sons or daughters and plead with God you won’t be next. It takes your breath away. You are literally gripped to see any pictures on TV, to get any news reports. You’re starved for some assurance. You don’t want to leave home because you don’t want to come back and see a black sedan waiting for you. Every time there’s a knock on the door, your stomach drops to the floor.
Then Mother’s Day came. And while I obviously would have preferred to have my son with me on that day, I did receive a very powerful gift. I was watching the right news broadcast at the right time.
“I just talked to a Marine who just had his nineteenth birthday the day the war started,” the reporter said. My heart skipped a beat. “Just last year around this time he was going to his senior prom.” While he didn’t say his name and I never saw him on that television screen, it was enough. I knew that was William, and now I knew he was alive. My son was still okay.
Lord, help me not base my confidence on my own understanding when I should be trusting you instead.
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)