Listen ladies, and I know 90% of you are ladies, it’s all quite simple.  After reading through my wife’s 4-day diatribe of military life, allow me to put things in perspective.   What’s so bad about not being able to depart to our new assignment when we don’t have a place to live there anyway?  And even if we did have a place to live, she wouldn’t be able to see a doctor because the medical community cannot determine whether she’s medically fit to travel to such a remote, uncivilized place as the Rocky Mountains.  And even if we could find a doctor, Tricare wouldn’t cover it because they too have no proof that there are any medical facilities other than at our current location.  So we pack up the family, go back to the farm, build a fence, tend to the sheep, and watch my Mom’s new house being built.  Eventually the military will wonder where I am and beg me to come back.  I’ll agree to return from AWOL only if they provide a house and written proof to Tricare and the military medical community that a major metropolitan area in the middle of the United States can sustain the life of a Type I diabetic. 

My wife thinks I’m heartless, uncaring, unsympathetic, and annoyingly non-chalant about this whole affair.  The fact is, I’m just a guy.   There was another “guy” giving a speech about 2000 years ago that put it best: 

“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?

Matthew 6:25-27

Now I must go give my lovely bride a cold glass of tea, a hunk of dark chocolate, and a backrub.  She’ll forget all about the impending doom ahead of us and tommorow her posts will be dripping with the joy of motherhood. 

Signed,  The Husband…

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