I am an Army (National Guard) wife. My HERO (aka husband) is now approaching the end of his first deployment in support of Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan. Every day during this deployment I go to the calendar and mark off the previous day with a big X. The days go by, sometimes at a snail’s pace and sometimes rather quickly. We have a four year-old son. He misses Daddy. I miss Daddy. Everyone in our family misses him. How do you explain “not to exceed 400 days” to a child who has only lived about 1,400 days total? Fortunately, his recollection of this year in his life will fade more quickly than it will for the rest of us.

Memories do fade even for us grown ups. I’ve heard that time heals all wounds, but as the 11th day of this month approaches, some pain seems too deep to fade to the recesses of my brain. A friend of mine has asked me to join her and a group of our friends to go to New York City on September 11th. I accepted immediately, but then it happened. Doubt started to creep into my thoughts. Maybe I should just stay home. What will I really accomplish going there?

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was at home in the last month of my first pregnancy and was watching the Food Network at 9 am. I always watched cooking shows in the morning to get some inspiration for dinner. My grandmother called me on the telephone after the first tower was hit and told me to put on the news so that I could explain to her what was happening. I do not have any recollection of what I was watching prior to changing the channel other than it was something about food because when I changed the channel, my mind went into a state of shock, and confusion set in for me also.

I remember watching the news day after day and thinking how I wished I could be there to help in a tangible way. I prayed for God to show me how I could help. No answer. I kept praying. I couldn’t donate blood because I was pregnant. I couldn’t donate much money because I didn’t have much of that to spare either. The baby arrived. He was such a perfect boy, so sweet and adorable in every way! (He is still a good boy and very handsome too!) A dear friend lost her battle with cancer just two weeks after my baby made his grand debut. Again, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even say goodbye to her. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, to borrow a phrase.

Over the past nine years, a lot has changed. I have been divorced and remarried. This month I am celebrating my fifth anniversary with my husband. He is in Afghanistan because of the events of September 11, 2001. Nine years ago I prayed that God would show me a way that I could help. Now I have been given the opportunity to attend the memorial ceremony on the site where so many lost their lives in an instant. I will be able to go there and show support for their families, standing shoulder to shoulder with them.

Tonight as we get ready for bed, I think of the many other spouses headed to an empty bed, some of which will remain empty. I thank the Lord for the peace that only He can give that helps us make it through the long nights and the days on the calendar.