Three Days

To the other passengers it was probably just another boring Tuesday. To me, it was

anything but. 

We were still newlyweds when my husband left. I was flying to DC to see him after 10 months. I should have been excited, but I wasn't. 

I arrived at midnight. Two darkly-dressed people displaying my name ushered me to a waiting car, then to the building and into an elevator, that seemed to take forever. As they inquired at the desk, my eyes found him. It didn't look like him, but it was

him. His eyes were closed. There were marks all over what I could see of his body, tubes hiding beneath the sheets, his arm wrapped tightly, a ventilator breathing for him.

When he deployed, I kept my sanity

by picturing myself running into his strong

arms for the tightest hug and a kiss to make me forget the pain. This is not the reunion I spent the last year dreaming about. 

Five days earlier I had received the dreaded call. My husband was not dead, (I really wish she would have led with this, because that's what I initially thought!), but he was critically injured. The woman rattled off a long list of the injuries they knew about so far: traumatic brain injury, 2 broken vertebrae, broken arm, broken clavicle, broken hip and most of his ribs were broken, his front teeth were missing (he had always had a recurring

nightmare about losing his teeth) and both lungs collapsed. Five days ago, he was in the best shape in his life. Today he lay in a hospital broken, bruised, crushed, unable to breathe on his own. It was a shocking way to reunite with the love of your life. It was clearly a miracle just to be able to.

It took time to stabilize him in Afghanistan, then Germany, where he had his first surgery, before being transferred to Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington DC, where I was finally able to see him. FIVE DAYS. That's a long time to be alone in your house wondering if your husband will ever return to it.

He woke but couldn't speak because of the ventilator. The ICU nurse gave him a printed alphabet so he could communicate by pointing to letters. I watched as he pointed to "I" then "L" then some other letters that didn't make sense. With tears welling up in my eyes I asked if he was saying "l love you". He was! Of course he was.

His injury happened 15 years ago. That day is what we now refer to as his Alive Day. It's only by the grace of God that he survived and now we share his experience with others so they can see how God still does miracles and most importantly, know that he cares, not just for us, but for you.

________________________

He has published a book detailing his experience. If you are interested in ordering it, please contact me.