Campbell Army Airfield hangar is a typical erect building fabricated out of metal, a home to various helicopters and aviators. This enormous structure stands in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by vast open lands and cerulean skies, located northwest of Fort Campbell. On an ordinary day, the sounds of aviation mechanics working on these majestic aircrafts and the echoes from numerous machines engulf the entire place. The aviation hangar represents much more than a location for my family. It serves both as the beginning of a heartrending journey and a joyous ending of a lengthy year of struggles, finding courage and strengthening my faith along the way.
It all began one somber evening—December 13, 2008, to be exact. The holiday festivities were all around us. The twinkling lights encircled our beautiful Christmas tree, our festive garlands looped around the staircase railings, and the mixtures of joyous and melancholy ballads surrounded the entire dwelling. My family and I waited for the dreadful time to greet us. I cautiously watched Shawn as he climbed up and down the flight of stairs, finishing up with his packing, double and triple checking everything. He positioned his camouflage bags downstairs, all lined up along the sidewall parallel to the door leading to our garage. Our children, after gathering and packing their toys and books, comfortably sat on the couch in their warm clothes, talking softly among each other, waiting for further instructions. I found myself with a heavy heart, standing motionless in the center of our living room, carefully observing everyone and everything. This home, our home, was once filled with laughter and enthusiasm. Without warning, Shawn gently grabbed my hand, tenderly placed his on my waist, and began to dance with me. I had never felt so defeated and vulnerable as I did that night. My heart was crying so loud, but no one could hear it. As the song came to an end, we knew the inevitable had arrived.
I silently sat in the front passenger seat of our 4Runner as Shawn drove us to the hangar. The ride seemed forever, and yet it was over within a blink of an eye. The parking lot was overwhelmed with the family vehicles. Every person, adults and children alike, wore a petrified look on their faces as they unhurriedly marched across the short distance to the hangar, lacking interest in reaching the entrance door. As we approached this awful dream, I sensed my feet getting heavier and heavier, as if they were made of lead. Each step resulted in excruciating agony.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).
On that gloomy night, the airfield hangar stood, no longer a home for impressive helicopters, diligent mechanics, and deafening machinery, but a home for inconsolable families and departing soldiers. For an hour, there were long, heartbreaking farewells; no one was left unaffected. In the midst of affliction, a firm voice on the loudspeaker suddenly grasped the attention of every person, announcing the words we were reluctant to hear.
“Twenty minutes!”
Our precious time was soon to run out. A dagger pierced through my heart as I watched our children embrace Shawn a little tighter, for they were well aware of what lay ahead. Our eyes met, and without uttering any words, we knew what we were compelled to do. The time had arrived when we must rise above the occasion and remain strong for our children. My heart stopped beating while we bid our final farewell. I took one last glimpse of my beloved as he walked toward the bus. While I firmly held our children in my arms, numbness took over my body as I embraced God’s unfailing love and strength. The waiting game had commenced.
“Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance” (1 Corinthians 13:7 NLT).
Join us tomorrow for Part Two.
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Our guest blogger is Army wife Jennifer Paris. She and her family are going through her husband’s third deployment.
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