At Ease in the Midst of Fear

Jeff and I experienced countless military separations. I didn’t fear being a single parent or added responsibilities. But this time I was sending him into harm’s way. My mind was caught in a tug-of-war between duty and reality. I spent weeks processing the fact that he might die in Iraq.

It was a daily, hourly, sometimes minute-by-minute decision to seek peace. Conversations with God changed from, “God, he has to come home” to “Help me trust you no matter what.”

It was a stubborn, raw choice  to choose Faith over fear.

Partly because I needed to be strong for my kids. But mostly because I wanted to be free.

My pastor asked, “What will you do if Jeff doesn’t come home?”

“A piece of me will die but I will be okay … eventually … somehow … because God will be there.”

That’s all I had. And that’s all I needed. The promise that the Changeless One who saw us through all our difficult days ~ including our daughter’s death ~ would always be in the midst of my worst fears. Trusting God, I surrendered the outcome. 

Jeff’s deployment day came. Preparations distracted me but fear doesn’t give up easily. What if he doesn’t come back? Faith reminded me who held our future. Refusing to let fear win, I placed pieces of home in his foot locker: family pictures and a grape-jelly-smeared love note pinned to a stuffed puppy and signed, “Daddy’s Little Girl.”

We left early for Robert Gray Army Airfield so Jeff could arrive before his soldiers. Strong and handsome in desert fatigues, he eased the family van over dusty, cactus-flanked roads. I remembered him as a teenager driving his radio-less Nova, singing Elvis and Barry Manilow. He’d stick his head out the window to get the Rick Springfield look in his wavy, brown hair. We were carefree and immortal then.

Alone in the airfield’s parking lot, we walked to the back of the van to unload his gear. We lingered there in silent tears and embraces. Nine-year-old Hannah clung to him, her arms tight around his waist, sobbing, “Daddy, I don’t want you to go.”

Knowing it might be our last moments together, made words seem urgent. Yet, they failed to express two hearts connected by twenty-three years of life’s darkest pain and deepest joys.

As we sat, shaded by the van’s hatch door, Jeff pulled out a book from his backpack. It symbolized his grandma’s prayers. She was a Salvation Army soldier fighting a different war. Opening the tattered, red hymnal, he sang into the face of fear:

“My Jesus, I love thee. I know thou art mine…
I will love thee in life; I will love thee in death,
And praise thee as long as thou lendest me breath;
And say, when the death-dew lies cold on my brow:
If ever I loved thee my Jesus ‘tis now.”

Jeff found words to express his trust in the one who knew our future. I rested my head on his shoulder as our Comforter wrapped us in peace. We knew, no matter what, we’d be okay. Even in the midst of our worst fears.

Today, twenty years later, we still aim to choose faith over fear and to live each day to its fullest.

I pray this peace for you too.

God’s got your yesterday, your today, and your tomorrow. Will you surrender the outcome?

“Be strong and very courageous. Do not be terrified. Do not be discouraged. For the Lord, your God, is with you wherever you go.”~ Joshua 1:9