Lost and Found

Last Friday night, I did a fundraiser at San Antonio’s monthly pub run. I drove downtown, threw on a red text-to-donate- t-shirt, grabbed an empty beer pitcher, and hit up the drunken crowd for cash donations for Soldiers’ Angels. There were five of us working the crowd, and we definitely had a great time ‘working’… and sipping a Hurricane… but mainly working… (you know, when we weren’t sipping the Hurricane). My friends were amazing, and it was my first time seeing any of them since Jim had arrived home from Iraq. I could tell instantly that they were a little uncomfortable around me— the husband who had only been in photos for the past two years had suddenly appeared and no one was sure where exactly this left them. Would I still go out with the pack? Would I start inviting everyone over for movie night and greet them at the door wearing slippers and a sweater vest? Would I be pregnant by September and trade in my new kick-ass Jetta for a minivan?

I tried to act normal—you know, questionably-sane-Army-Wife normal-- gave everyone hugs and made my usual smart ass comments. I passed out fliers for our upcoming races, sprinted against people from bar to bar, and smiled from ear to ear. You see, being with my friends felt normal. I was comfortable around them—they were safe—and I could be myself (without worrying that they would throw me into jail for ‘borrowing’ some Mardi Gras beads from Pat O’Brians.). I knew exactly where I stood with them (heck, they were wearing ‘borrowed’ Mardi Gras beads too). For two years, my friends had supported and loved me unconditionally—even when my husband could not— and I knew that I could never repay them in a million years. What they gave me was priceless, and I considered them my family.

Later that night—after the traditional post-pub-run- Mexican-meal- of-heartburn—my friends and I walked to my car. Monica, Craig, and I strolled to the River Center Parking garage where we had dropped off our vehicles earlier that evening. It was getting late, and I was ready to crash (and more importantly, shower—it was still over 100 degrees outside), and I didn’t want to be out late knowing that Jim was waiting at home. I walked in to the steamy garage, trekked up to the third level, and searched for my car…. Only it wasn’t there. At first it was funny, Craig declared that my new car, affectingly named Vespa Whilfflebottom (VW for short), was playing hide and seek (she was a baby after all), and we all laughed and looked for the ‘baby’… checking levels two and four just to be on the safe side. It took about fifteen minutes until we realized that Vespa, my new barely paid-for-Jetta, was MIA…. And I started to go all questionably-sane-Army-Wife-Crazy.

After much discussion, gazing over the concrete slab, taking note of landmarks, and pretending that we had the ability to navigate via the stars we FINALLY came to the conclusion that THIS River Center Parking Garage was the WRONG River Center Parking Garage. And like the true family that my friends had become, they escorted me to the OTHER River Center Parking Garage to where Vespa sat patiently , just waiting to take me home.

(River Center Parking Garage #2 is just like River Center Parking Garage #1.... only different. And down the street. And now missing a few $20 to park signs)


And that’s the lesson here. True friends point you home—even when you are scared, out of your comfort zone, and a little lost. The Monica’s, Craigs’s, Loren’s, and Toby’s of our lives are God’s way of taking care of us, and I know for a fact, that the friends I have encountered on this journey were placed there to help guide me in the direction that I needed to be going. Last Friday, my friends stayed with me until my lost car was found, and one by one they all hugged me and whispered that everything was going to be ok. Jim would heal, he would adapt to life again in the US, and we would learn to navigate a new life together. It may be different, but how could it not be—war changes us all—but it also teaches us to appreciate-- and to love with all of our hearts--the true blessings that are placed in front of us. And I am blessed.

There is the family you are born with, and the family you choose… and I choose all of my red-shirt-co-conspirators.

(The Red Shirt Family)