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One evening, not too long ago as I sat on the porch with my husband watching a spring storm roll through, I was overcome by this feeling of the complete and utter calm of the moment. If I had been in my standard mode of busyness and distraction with the litany of life’s unending tasks I would surely have missed this gem. We sat quietly not speaking, just being with each other surrounded by the sheer presence of the forcefulness of nature.

When the time came for us to go in and get the house settled down for the night, I resisted, reminiscent of a child just asking for a few more minutes. I couldn’t truly explain to him, but my need to savor the mundane, the simple, the calm, the connection was too compelling to relinquish for something as practical as “it’s time for bed.” I reminded him that last spring at this time we were enveloped in the “pre-deployment” haze of activity getting ready for a long separation and preparing ourselves, our family and our home. The days just seemed to slip by in the fog of deployment.

We do not know if or when he will be called to deploy again, but we do know that right here, right now he is here. It’s a devastatingly unpretentious thing, a spring evening at home, together with the family that for us is cause for great joy. In that moment, in that place I was struck by the immense need to celebrate each and every rainy spring evening, every sultry summer afternoon, every crisp fall morning and even every chilly winter storm.

I fear the battle is not over, there will be rough roads ahead, but if we can learn to savor the moments of respite in between then the journey will be full of joy. Perhaps the biggest challenge for us is to simply appreciate the gift of calm when it is given.