Walking in a pair of 7 1/2 shoes.
Today's blog is about writing my blog. Sometimes when I start a story it just kind of takes a life of its own and turns out to be something I never intended it to be.
I started out with a story about a Christmas tree and chances are it's a story you won't read. A simple little story kind of turned into something I hadn't intended it to. Rather than sharing it with you, the reader, I decided to just e-mail it to someone who I thought would appreciate the story. For the rest of you, I'm sharing the story of what I came to realize at the end of the blog, which is this:
For the first time in my adult life, the shoe is on the other foot. Or to be more precise, I'm in the middle of walking a mile in someone else's shoes. To be precise precise, they're a pair of 7 1/2s.
I've spent many a holiday away from home. For years, I celebrated my birthday with my Guard family, not my real family. I spent Christmas of 1990 in Saudi Arabia, which in itself is an experience I'll share later on in the month. This little TDY in no small part led to my first divorce.
I've missed birthdays, Thanksgivings, anniversaries, and any number of other occasions where I was off with my buddies on this trip or that one. I never quite realized how it is to be on the other end of that; being at home and missing someone who's far away. As I wrote my blog entry, I realized that for the first time, I understand what it's like when you're the one that's home and the one you love isn't there during a holiday.
Don't get me wrong, friends. I missed my loved ones when I was gone. I think my friend Kenny summed it up best. We were on some beach and he said something like, "Coop, don't take this the wrong way, but we've seen the best parts of the world together. Just once, I'd like to see some of this with my wife." Those may not be the exact words he used but I completely understood how he felt. Wendi and I spent a week in Hawaii together because I wanted to see something with my wife.
I write the blog sometimes in advance. It's Saturday night, late. As I was looking at my Christmas tree and watching the train go round and round the base, continuing it's annual Christmas journey to nowhere, I started thinking about all the holidays I wasn't where I needed to be. Or wanted to be.
I don't remember a TDY I left for that Wendi didn't cry about. I think now, I understand why. I never did before because it was no big deal to me. You get on a plane, do your thing, then get on a plane and come home. It's what you did. I can't count the number of times I left Julie at home to take care of the house and the kids. I took so many trips my kids got used to me being gone.
Now I understand what it's like for the family that's left behind. Especially the times when we left home and had no idea when we'd be back. Fortunately those trips were few and definitely not as long as some of the deployments others are being asked to take. It could have been worse, but it's hard when things go wrong, when you can't find something, or you just want to talk and the person you want to talk to isn't here.
I've spent a lot of time walking in this pair of 7 1/2 shoes this year. For everything I ever did, it's been done to me this year. That's not an exaggeration. I've had a healthy dose of being shown how it feels to be treated the way I've treated some people in my life. It's been hard, but for every painful experience I've taken the opportunity to learn and grow.
Yesterday's blog was about God being the God of the impossible. He's also the God of second chances. I talk about the little things that happen in my life that point me down the path. There's something more that goes along with it. I've had a chance to look at my life from the other side and I'm grateful to God for giving me the chance to learn from the mistakes I couldn't see I made and to experience the hurt of the one I made that I should have known better not to make.
It's not the "It's a Wonderful Life" story where Jimmy Stewart's character got to see what life would have been like if he'd never been born. My story is more that I got to see what it feels like to be treated exactly the way I treated the owner of the 7 1/2 shoes.
I started out with a story about a Christmas tree and chances are it's a story you won't read. A simple little story kind of turned into something I hadn't intended it to. Rather than sharing it with you, the reader, I decided to just e-mail it to someone who I thought would appreciate the story. For the rest of you, I'm sharing the story of what I came to realize at the end of the blog, which is this:
For the first time in my adult life, the shoe is on the other foot. Or to be more precise, I'm in the middle of walking a mile in someone else's shoes. To be precise precise, they're a pair of 7 1/2s.
I've spent many a holiday away from home. For years, I celebrated my birthday with my Guard family, not my real family. I spent Christmas of 1990 in Saudi Arabia, which in itself is an experience I'll share later on in the month. This little TDY in no small part led to my first divorce.
I've missed birthdays, Thanksgivings, anniversaries, and any number of other occasions where I was off with my buddies on this trip or that one. I never quite realized how it is to be on the other end of that; being at home and missing someone who's far away. As I wrote my blog entry, I realized that for the first time, I understand what it's like when you're the one that's home and the one you love isn't there during a holiday.
Don't get me wrong, friends. I missed my loved ones when I was gone. I think my friend Kenny summed it up best. We were on some beach and he said something like, "Coop, don't take this the wrong way, but we've seen the best parts of the world together. Just once, I'd like to see some of this with my wife." Those may not be the exact words he used but I completely understood how he felt. Wendi and I spent a week in Hawaii together because I wanted to see something with my wife.
I write the blog sometimes in advance. It's Saturday night, late. As I was looking at my Christmas tree and watching the train go round and round the base, continuing it's annual Christmas journey to nowhere, I started thinking about all the holidays I wasn't where I needed to be. Or wanted to be.
I don't remember a TDY I left for that Wendi didn't cry about. I think now, I understand why. I never did before because it was no big deal to me. You get on a plane, do your thing, then get on a plane and come home. It's what you did. I can't count the number of times I left Julie at home to take care of the house and the kids. I took so many trips my kids got used to me being gone.
Now I understand what it's like for the family that's left behind. Especially the times when we left home and had no idea when we'd be back. Fortunately those trips were few and definitely not as long as some of the deployments others are being asked to take. It could have been worse, but it's hard when things go wrong, when you can't find something, or you just want to talk and the person you want to talk to isn't here.
I've spent a lot of time walking in this pair of 7 1/2 shoes this year. For everything I ever did, it's been done to me this year. That's not an exaggeration. I've had a healthy dose of being shown how it feels to be treated the way I've treated some people in my life. It's been hard, but for every painful experience I've taken the opportunity to learn and grow.
Yesterday's blog was about God being the God of the impossible. He's also the God of second chances. I talk about the little things that happen in my life that point me down the path. There's something more that goes along with it. I've had a chance to look at my life from the other side and I'm grateful to God for giving me the chance to learn from the mistakes I couldn't see I made and to experience the hurt of the one I made that I should have known better not to make.
It's not the "It's a Wonderful Life" story where Jimmy Stewart's character got to see what life would have been like if he'd never been born. My story is more that I got to see what it feels like to be treated exactly the way I treated the owner of the 7 1/2 shoes.
Comments
Post a Comment