This past weekend my husband and I went into a lot of antique stores while we were hanging out in North Georgia. In one store he pointed out a framed poem to me and while I read it I cried right there in the store. Luckily, I kept my composure together enough so no one noticed, but the poem I read touched me so much I took a quick snapshot of it so I could Google it later and post it on here. (The framed poem, by the way, was marked at $30 – heck no would I buy that!) I’m sure several of you have already read this before, but it was my first time every laying eyes on it, so I figured there may be at least one or two of you in the same boat.
I hope you enjoy the piece, but before I post it I have a question. Is tomorrow Military Spouse Appreciation Day? The base where I am is having events all day tomorrow “honoring” the spouses for MSA Day, but I’ve looked it up online this morning and everything I find say MSA Day is May 7. Any idea what’s up? Either way, I think this piece is fitting for any day of the year.
When the good Lord was creating Wives, he was into his sixth day of overtime.
An angel appeared and said, “You’re having a lot of trouble with this one. What’s wrong with the standard model?”
And the Lord replied, “Have you seen the specs on this order? She has to be completely independent, but must be sponsored to get on post; have the qualities of both father and mother during deployments; be a perfect hostess to 4 or 40; run on black coffee; handle emergencies without a manual; be able to handle flu, birthdays and moves around the world; have a kiss that can cure anything from a child’s torn Valentine to a husband’s weary day; have the patience of a saint when waiting for the Unit to return home; and have six pairs of hands.”
The angel shook her hand slowly and said, “Six pairs of hands… no way!”
And the Lord answered, “Don’t worry, we’ll make other military wives to help. Besides it’s not the hands that are causing the problem, it’s the heart. It must swell with pride in her husband, sustain the ache of separations, beat on soundly when it’s too tired to do so and be large enough to say, “I Understand” when she doesn’t, and ‘I love you’ regardless.”
“Lord,” said the angel, touching his sleeve gently. “Come to bed… finish this tomorrow!”
“I can’t,” said the Lord. “I’m so close to creating something unique. Already I have one who heals herself when she’s sick, can feed three unexpected guests who are stuck in the area due to bad weather, and can wave good-bye to her husband, from a pier, off a runway and understand that it is important to his country that he leaves.”
The angel circled the model of the military wife very slowly. “It’s too soft,” she sighed.
“But tough,” said the Lord excitedly. “You cannot imagine what this woman can do or endure.”
“Can it think?”
“Can it think? It can convert 1400 to 2 p.m.”
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. “There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model.”
“It’s not a leak,” said the Lord. “It’s a tear.”
“What’s it for?” asked the angel.
“It’s for joy. Sadness. Disappointment. Pain, loneliness and pride!”
“You are a genius,” sighed the angel.
The Lord looked somber and replied, “I didn’t put it there.”