My Story: Part 2

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 2 Corinthians 12:9

When I learned about Save a Warrior, I was pretty much at my rock-bottom.  I felt like I had failed as a wife.  I was floundering as a mother.  I was struggling to get through each day without arguing with Stephen, yelling at the kids, breaking down and crying over the smallest things.  I was also trying my hardest to put up a pretty front to everyone else.  I was sure our neighbors knew things weren't all roses and sunshine; we lived in a small community, close houses, surely they had heard us yelling, noticed my red eyes and tears and bad excuses.  I played it off to the best of my ability; blamed being stressed about the move, finding a house, looking at schools and programs for our oldest child, said Stephen had duty or was working late, blamed it on a difficult day with the kids...I became pretty good about finding a reason to cover my real pain.  

I had the information about Save a Warrior and I was skeptically hopeful that it could help Stephen.  I was clinging to that hope because it was all that I had left.  I had prayed for a miracle, asked God to give me strength and wisdom, to show me the way.  I knew I needed to approach Stephen about attending and I was truly scared.  At this time, his temper was volatile and I was weak.  I knew this would be a fight.  I knew he would resent me for suggesting it.  I knew he'd be angry.  He'd probably walk out.  I was prepared for the worst.  And I wasn't too far off.  

He did yell, I cried.  He walked out, I cried some more.  We hardly spoke for two weeks.  And again, I waited.  I chewed on the wise words from Jake and Suzi and the advise from Bobby.  I gave it some time to sink it.  I tried my best not to pester him about it even though I was dying inside for an answer.  I had given him an ultimatum and now the ball was in his court.  Reluctantly (and admittedly mostly to get me to off his back) he called Jake.  The conversation was short, but apparently whatever Jake said resonated with Stephen.  He then called Bobby. That call was a little longer and by the end of the call, Stephen was signed up for a spot with Cohort 005 in Malibu.  

To say I was surprised would be an understatement.  We didn't talk about it...just went about making plans to move to Virginia, neither one of us sure about how this week away would change our lives.  The next week I was on a plane to look for a home for us, signed a lease, and began plans for another cross-country move...all with signed divorce papers sitting on my nightstand waiting to be filed.  Those papers haunted me and I was virtually paralyzed with the fear that I was making a huge mistake by moving with him.  But we had agreed: if he attended Save a Warrior, the kids and I would move to VA.  

In July, I watched as the movers packed our house, I packed my SUV for Virginia, and Stephen packed his truck for Malibu.  Again, I could see the Lord's hand as the timing for our cross-country move and Cohort 005 fell into place.  Stephen had checked out of his command and was already approved for leave to move.  Cohort 005 was scheduled that same week.  Stephen would be able to seek help for PTSD without having to get the approval of his command (this is a big issue for Active Duty warriors and something Stephen will later begin to work on changing). I would be making the four day drive across the country by myself with our three kids, racing to beat the moving truck.

Stephen left for Save a Warrior the second week of July and I wouldn't see him again for two weeks.  We would speak to him just a few times that week he was in Malibu; I would fall asleep each night praying for a miracle, I would start crying during long stretches of interstate, I would feel panicked driving through massive thunderstorms, I would lose my patience with the wild kids cooped up in the backseat.  

Stephen came home with a sense of calm, he smiled more.  After several weeks, we were able to talk about our circumstances without hurting each other.  We made the commitment to wait at least six months before filing any papers or taking any steps to separate and we agreed to spend the next few months working on ourselves, rather than trying to fix each other.  

(You can read about Stephen's experience on the Save a Warrior blog here) 

I would be a complete liar if I said the decision to stop focusing on fixing our marriage, stop worrying about what Stephen was doing or not doing, and turning the focus to myself and my actions/hurt/history/future was easy.  It's hard to look in the mirror and be honest with yourself when you've been playing pity party for so long.  

I can say now, six months post Save a Warrior, that Stephen and I have graduated from the individual counseling to working on our relationship as husband and wife.  We have learned so much more than I can type about relationships, how they have built us up and also broken us down.  We can see where our individual strengths and weaknesses play into our actions and how to respond with principle and purpose rather than fear and sadness.  Most importantly, we are able to speak openly, without fear of judgement, for the first time in years.  With each other, with our families, our children, our friends and the ever growing Save a Warrior family that we now have.  I used to count my blessings on one hand: three beautiful children, health, a husband with amazing courage and strength, comfort in our earthly possessions, and friends and family who have supported us throughout our lives.  I now add the family at Save a Warrior to that group.  Jake, Bobby, Suzi, Dusty, Ryan, Philip, the men Stephen has met along this journey and the wives I've been blessed to meet: You didn't just Save a Warrior in July, you saved his family as well.  And I can't say thank you enough.