Control Freak

Hi. My name is "Martha" and I'm a control freak.
Today is the WORST day to be a control freak. Today three strange men came to my house and spent eight hours packing everything we own onto a truck to take away for eight months while, dun dunna dun!, my husband leaves for Iraq. It is the worst part of military life.
My sweet husband was given orders a day after my last posting. That gave us 13 days to find a moving company, get that in order, get the house cleaned up, pack a separate 'house' to take with me to Texas, and squeeze extra family time into an already jammed schedule. And his list included meetings and shots! If there was ever a time where my Martha was in over drive, it is now. Funny enough, this is definitely a time for me to practice Mary! I should be kicking back on the couch with him and the baby watching movies and enjoying each other. Instead, the couch is now in a warehouse some where and we are laying on a full size mattress in the middle of an empty living room, and all that is on my mind, well one thing on my mind, is what apartment complex I'll be moving into next week. Ridiculous!
An aspect of Martha I don't think is spotlighted in her story, but I'm sure we share, is to worry. I'm a big time worrier. I'm fairly flexible with most things, but when it comes to the husband and the kid, my rigidness would have sunk the Titanic. I haven't thought much about where he is headed, because I think I would suffocate in my own fear. I can't think about him having to retrain on a weapon because he'll have to carry one around for the next few months, because it would completely paralyze me.
Instead I think about old milk. One day I accidentally took a sip of sour milk, which instantly resulted in spitting over and over again in the sink. That milk had an expiration date, but I didn't see it or probably didn't look at it and had some anyway. In a way, we are like old milk. Each of us has an expiration date. One day we will have out stayed our time here and will die. Who's to say that my time isn't going to run out tomorrow? With that same mind set, who's to say that his number is up in Iraq? He could just as easily get in his truck and drive through our security gates and be hit by a bus. His expiration date is not up to me. I have to trust in God's perfect timing, and can only pray that He will protect him and bring him safely back to us everyday.

Got milk?