Skip to main content

The Curse of the TDY

For the entire month of August, Tony was TDY in Scotland. In the military life, it is well-known that bad things happen while your husband is away on a TDY. Armed with this knowledge, I steeled myself as Tony pulled away in the wee dawn hours of the morning. "I can do this", I told myself. He has been deployed for a whole year. This is one month.


My husband, at the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo 2016


The first incident was not too bad, considering that it could have been much worse. There was this annoying little light that would come on the van's dashboard every time I went around a sharp curve. As soon as the curve straightened out, the light went off. Surely, I thought, if it was a big deal, the light would stay on. Wrong thought. I was extremely low on oil for some odd reason. I was relating the funny light story to a friend at church who immediately checked my oil level. It was bone dry. After adding 3 quarts, it barely reached the safe line on the oil dipstick. A real tragedy avoided, praise the Lord!

Next, my sweet little son, when told 'no' by his mother, threw himself face-first into the couch. He hit his front teeth on the hard part of the couch. The next day, he told me it hurt to eat. Then, about a week later, I noticed his two front teeth were turning gray. The dentist said that only time will tell if he damaged the permanent teeth. He is not quite as photogenic as before, but he is still a cutie-pie to me.

Then, Peter's birthday and my broken arm. Yep. No husband to help. Praise God again, for Sophie was here. If she had not, I honestly don't know how we would have handled that first week and the surgery. But poor Sophie did not get to do any of the sightseeing we had planned.




Usually, three things is par for the course in a typical TDY. But we had one more. Jack has suffered from ingrown toenails for years. Things got really bad right as Tony was getting ready to leave and it was decided that he should have a minor procedure to help. Of course it was scheduled for the day after my fall at the skating rink. We rescheduled it and it seemed that everything went smoothly. But one of his toes developed an awful infection. We are still in the midst of solving that problem, but once again, praise be to God, for Tony got home on Sunday and I am no longer handling it all alone.





I have tried to remain positive throughout all this craziness, but I must confess that I did lose it a time or two. I am trying to keep in mind that God's will be done and not mine, and that there is a reason for everything, even if I can't see or understand it right now. To help me, I decided I needed a physical reminder, something I could look at, to help me turn to Our Blessed Mother when I was emotionally spent. A dear friend, though we have never met in real life, makes beautiful rosaries and other religious items. I bought a bracelet to help me maintain peace of heart and mind. Her Etsy shop is full of beautiful, well-made rosaries. I have bought them for my own children as well as for the young adults I have sponsored for Confirmation. I received my bracelet two days ago, and it is perfect. I can glance down at my wrist and know that I can trust in God 100%, no matter how hard it seems. Thank you, Barbara, for my lovely bracelet and the cover for my Magnificat. As always, I am so amazed at your talents.



Sunday evening, we all camped out on the front porch to wait for Tony to arrive. It was our first days of truly hot days here in Germany, so the breeze blowing through the porch felt so nice compared to the inside of our not air-conditioned house. Every time we heard a car, my heart would race. Finally, we saw his car turn the corner. A huge cheer erupted from us all. We were all together again. Praise God!

Comments

  1. Oh my gosh, I had no idea you were doing all that without Tony! You poor thing. I'm glad your bracelet helped in even the smallest of ways. And thanks for the much-needed mention!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Door Table

Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell abo

Fog and faith

 I stepped out into the coolness of the November morning to start the car and defog the windows, preparing to take Jack to school. Daylight had yet to appear. As we drove the many miles, the sky lightened, and we could see the mist hanging out just above the grass. We usually listen to a story together on our drive, adding commentary, exchanging a knowing glance or a shocked expression as the twists and turns unfold. I relish this time with Jack. I know that all too soon he will be preparing to leave the nest, like his sisters before him.  On the drive back, I pull my rosary from my purse and pray. By this time, the sun is just about to appear, making the sky a beautiful orange-pink on the horizon. I am pondering much as I pray, for the path I am on is once again rocky and uncertain. Such is life, whether we have faith or not. Faith makes it bearable. For the most part, the road home is a straight shot and I can see the ribbon of road laid out before me, narrowing in the distance. The

A Tale of a Tail (or the excitement of the day)

 First of all, I doubt anyone still checks this little old neglected blog, so I am probably talking to myself right now. But if by chance, there is still someone out there, I will tell the tale of the tail I came to tell. As little boys are apt to do, Peter left his rainboots outside on the front porch several days ago. As they do not add to the decor on the porch, I decided to bring them inside this morning and I put them by the back door, where they belong. There they sat, until the mail truck came by and tucked our mail into the box. I may or may not have mentioned that our property is surrounded by a moat during the rainy days. There is no going to collect the mail without rain boots. Seeing how Peter was supposed to be doing his math lesson, of course he eagerly volunteered to go get the mail. He hopped up from the table and went to put on his boots. The scream that came from him made me leave my seat! I thought he had hurt himself. He claimed there was a roach in his boot. I pick