hope.

Tonight is the military ball.  It marks the beginning of a painfully short set of days that signify the end.  The end of this chapter, of the season where my Marine and I have been able to count on at least one weekend a month together.  Where text messages and phone calls might be few and far between, but can be counted on to come eventually.  Where the danger is minimal and the time between visits seems like a cake walk compared to what is looming ahead of us.

The time we have left is slipping through my fingers.  These few short days where I will have Ethan in the flesh can be counted quickly and with ease.  And then this season of life will be over and the world will spin around and life will be so different.  It’s already a shock to my system to think that one day can change everything.

The part I am dreading the most about this whole thing is that final moment.  That last hug, kiss, touch of his hands before he picks up his bag and walks away.  That first moment we will be separated by inches and then feet and I will watch the distance grow between us while knowing it will soon turn into thousands of miles.  Already, I wonder how I can possibly endure it.

I am trying to focus on the positive.

I am trying to focus on all the things God has given me to look forward to—little countdowns that make the big one seem so much less dreadful.  The countdown towards holidays and Disneyland trips with my family and visits from friends and trips to the east coast.  And the knowledge that there will be semesters of school to finish and things on my bucket list asking to be crossed off.

And I know, that just like boot camp, there will be ways to grow and things to learn and relationships to deepen—mine and Ethan’s included.

In a lot of ways, I have to think that we are strangely blessed.  Because there is no other way we would’ve appreciated mere seconds the way we do now.  I don’t think I would know how to relish the company of someone to do things normal people consider mundane…like going grocery shopping and watching movies.  Actually, I don’t think I’ve known mundane since Ethan has been a Marine.  Making breakfast in the kitchen together is reason alone to celebrate.  Like this past week.  When Ethan drove up through rush hour traffic to see me for a few short evening hours.  It’s amazing how something most women in relationships enjoy on a regular basis can seem—to me—like the grandest moment the world has ever seen.

Not like I wish for any of this.  I would be lying if I said I don’t envy the women who can spend time with the one they love and not be stressed about running small errands because they might take 30 precious minutes off of their time together.  30 precious minutes that I know I will gladly kill for when he’s thousands of miles away from me.

But I really just want to look for ways to be grateful.  The season of boot camp was miserable.  But looking back?  I grew in ways I never IMAGINED I would grow.  The roots of my relationship with God grew deeper into His earth and grasped Him and held more firmly than before.  I took trips I might not have taken, saw bands I might not have seen, had the best New Years I’ve had to date.  I found new churches, saw one of my dearest friends on the east coast and laughed with and hugged on my friends and my family and all the people I love the very most in this world.  And I look back at all of that and I see that despite all the pain, there was so much beauty.  TRUE beauty.  And  truth.  And love.  Even in the midst of what I thought was a big mess.

Hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

So, tonight, instead of thinking of the second hand on our countdown, I will relish the curling of my hair.  And the strapping on of glittering heels.  And the knowing that my prettiest red lipstick has been delicately and beautifully applied.  I will hold tight to the left arm of the most handsome man in the room and I will enjoy being in love.

And I will hope.

I will hope that I can find a way to bottle up his laughter and the feel of his lips on mine.

I will hope that we will water these roots of love, that they may grow deeper so that they can hold us steady during the months to come.

I will hope that time may have mercy on us.  That the world may smile upon us and grant us extra moments by spinning a little slower.

I will hope for love.  For peace.  For prayer.  For joy.

I will hope for tonight and tomorrow and these days of good-bye and for the months to come.

Hope is all I can count on right now.

And for tonight, it is enough.