Most things were a blur when I was first notified that I would be deployed. I had been told definitively that I would not be going due to a lack of a slot for a chaplain. So the wifey and I got pregnant. We endured a great scary with her ovarian surgery. And we bought our first house.
Finally, with the wifey healed up and amidst preparations for our newborn, the phone call arrived. The plans were dashed and the wifey cried for several days. I could comfort her with the fact that I had no choice in the matter.
That was, until I finally understood the jarbled sounds of a voicemail from my commander, telling me that he'd added me to the mission and was excited to have me on board, but if for some reason I couldn't do it, he could find another chaplain. When I realized what he was saying, my heart turned to ice. He had just given me an out.
In my situation, many soldiers would simply not tell their wife. It is hard enough to deal with the separation and perceived abandonment, let alone adding the knowledge that such separation was intentional. I was also tempted not to tell my wife. It was hard enough for her. I also knew that it is easy to become a lightning rod for people in pain and didn't want to be blamed for leaving.
But I couldn't keep this from my wife. Even if it takes lots of time and tears, we have always made our decisions together. I may be the head of our marriage, but there is not a major life decision that we have made that my wife did not first own for herself. We've called these deliberations our "road trip discussions." Whenever we took a long road trip, we would hash out and conclude something substantial--our future denomination, which call to pursue, when to try for children, etc.
After seminary, when I began to be convicted about the importance of attending the Sunday evening service, I did not force the wifey to come to my point of view. She wrestled it out on her own. In each of these matters, patience (which doesn't come naturally to me) allowed my wife to own a decision without feeling coerced. She would then often adhere to positions and decisions much more conclusively than I would.
At times, she would be the stronger voice of conviction. After we moved to the OPC, we had one more substantial obstacle to overcome: ministry or politics. I loved both. We sought the wisdom of the pastors at Grace one morning over breakfast, and afterward, the wifey told me that she did not marry a politician, she married a pastor. She has always said she would follow me, but that doesn't mean that her input is not incredibly valuable in how I lead.
I bring all of this up because of a counseling case I had today. I preached at two services this morning--my normal traditional service as well as the Gospel service. (The former is more of my theological home; the latter is where personalities like mine more naturally belong.) In between these two services, a soldier didn't I know approached me and said he needed to talk. I walked him over to my office, and as soon as the door was cracked, he started to lose it.
He confessed that he failed in his first marriage and had committed adultery in precipitating its eventual breakup. But now he is engaged to the gal he truly loves. They also have a baby together.
But he made a big mistake. He pursued a deployment without her knowledge (like most soldiers who haven't previously deployed, he was desperate to get one under his belt before the war was over). To top it off, he told her that he had no choice in the matter. She later found out that this was a lie and told him recently that the engagement was off and the relationship irreparable.
He was astonished and heartbroken. He was astonished because he hadn't cheated on her, nor had he been an unloving fiance. But like a thunderclap, her sense of betrayal made him realize the folly of making a major life decision without her and they lying about it. Such a mistake communicates priorities higher than the well-being of one's wife/fiancee. He cared more about the deployment than about her thoughts on the matter. And by lying about it, he communicated a willingness to live a part of his life separate from her.
He is repentant. He will try to redeploy early if he has the chance and is even willing to discard his beloved Army life if it means he can keep the love of his life. But he may be too late. (I will counsel both of them over the phone in the weeks to come.) Whether or not he can salvage this relationship, the fact remains: These crisis moments can be prevented with proper care early on. And ultimatums like "me or the Army" that arise so often would likely never occur if time has been taken to build a cohesive "us and the Army" approach.
After I joined the Army, there was one time I offered to leave. I told my fiancee at the time (my wife now) that I would leave is she wanted me to. She told me that she had only known me a soldier and that she was marrying a soldier (what a wonderful, warrior wife!).
When I came to her with the new knowledge that I could escape this deployment, even after several days of heartache, she did not waver. She absolutely did not want me to go, but agreed with me that I should go. I signed up for an eventuality like this. And it was only an option for me because of my position as a chaplain. No other soldier could willingly back out. It was clear that God has called me to this and that my place was alongside my soldiers, despite the hardship.
This line of thought was largely vindicated a few days into our mobilization in Texas, when a soldier came to me and said that he didn't think he would be able to leave his daughter, but realizing I was doing the same with my little boy, he found the strength to go. We were in it together.
When I get home, my wife and I will be making a road trip, first to Massachusetts (her choice), then to Maine (my choice). The most substantial part of our trip will likely occur on the road, where we will spend hours talking over the past, present, and future. And in God's grace, we will not make Ichabod Crane decisions, with head held apart from body, but will do so together with the grace of God as our strength and the wise providence of God as our peace.
