David has been working long days for several weeks now, and even more so the past 2 weeks. I say days, although the days turn to nights and he's gone before sun-up and home well after sun-down. I miss him, the kids miss him. They often go to bed long before he's home. There have been several consecutive days he hasn't seen them at all, at least not awake.

These are statements of facts, and a week ago, they'd have been complaints. I'd have been throwing myself a pity party right about now.

Sunday at the Nutcracker, a lovely young mother of two sweet blond girls sat behind us. Her oldest daughter happened to be a classmate of Brandi's daughter so they struck up a conversation. Brandi recognized the family from the local newspaper. Her husband had been in Iraq for 16 months. She put her little ones to bed without daddy every night. He was recently home for 3 weeks and then back off, this time still in the states. Brandi asked if she had family nearby. No, just good friends and a supportive church. Would he be home for Christmas? No, but they would see him shortly after. Not an ounce of self-pity in her voice. She seemed so happy to have had those 3 weeks with him and content to see him after the holidays.

So I won't complain that my husband has been so busy at work lately. And when I feel the self-pity start to well up in me, I'll be thankful for the job he has and enjoys. And I have a feeling that mom I sat in front of at the ballet won't complain either, because just as her story sticks with me, I bet she knows the story of another military wife who's husband won't be coming home at all.