It's the Little Things in Life

Flowers from a friend brought a smile!

I've long subscribed to the theory that it's often the little things in life that mean the most ... a handwritten note, a fresh bouquet of flowers, a piping hot cup of coffee ... these are the 'little' things that can make such a huge impact. 

Getting a note in the mail ~ written for me ... from a real person ~ is a nice surprise among the endless stacks of bills, catalogs, and credit card offers.  And, last night, opening my front door to find a friend on my doorstep with a fresh bouquet of flowers just to say "I'm here for you" ... it was one of the nicest things I could have imagined.  {Thank you, Debbie!}

Which leads me to that piping hot cup of coffee ... I am so blessed and happy to have a husband who (a) shares my love of java and (b) gets up early each morning and makes a fresh pot of coffee for us both.  It's one of those 'little' things that makes my morning and warms my heart each time I wake to the irresistible aroma of that brewing concoction.  Since this is such a joyous part of my mornings, it stands to reason that the absence of this blessed event stands out as a stark reminder of what I'll miss over the next few months.

Waking up on the morning after ... it's a mosaic of whirling emotions that takes more than a moment to reason out ... instant heartache when I realize that I am waking up alone, sudden relief to have survived that challenging first night, consuming pride at having my husband serving in our nation's defense, acute anxiety about the challenges lying in wait just around the bend, enduring compassion for the many who are experiencing the same challenges as I am, and the bittersweet consolation that at least we're on the path to getting to the end.  All of these shifting sensations strike at once and seem to culiminate in one large knot in the pit of my stomach.

Then, it's time to get up and wake the kids and prepare for a new day.  As I stand outside my oldest son's door, ready to wake him up, I think about the tears he shed as he fell asleep the night before.  He has taken our battalion's motto, "Can and Will," as his own personal mantra for this deployment.  He cried himself to sleep last night saying, "Can and will.  I can and will get through this deployment.  Can and will." 

I swallow my emotions and decide it's time to start our morning.  So I open doors, turn on lights, kiss sleepy heads hello, let out the dogs, and start breakfast.  I answer questions ... Mom, where are my shoes?  Did you make me a lunch today?  Can you sign this permission slip for Field Day? ... and warm up a cup of coffee from yesterday's unfinished pot.  I blink away tears and silently mourn the absence of fresh coffee, and the fabulous man who makes it.

And the kids get off to school and another day begins.  Day Two and counting.  Can and Will.