"But the Lord will Guide Us"

It seemed like another ordinary birthday, like so many we had faced apart already. Jordan was deployed to Afghanistan and Tag had just been born 11 days before. Because of his job we were accustomed to doing things while missing each other. We celebrated births, birthdays, Christmases, Easters, and every other greeting card holiday while apart. I just assumed that day would be like the rest. Having a newborn and a toddler was exhausting. The hours of sleep were low, and the hormones were running high. I woke up at 2 AM to feed Tag and decided to check my email to keep from nodding off. Jordan has always had a fast-paced job overseas, so phone calls, letters, and emails were all a rare treat. He had called us the day Tag was born. That in and of itself was a miracle because the Red Cross refused to send word to his command that his son was born until the hospital provided the length of the baby. Apparently, the time of birth, place of birth, sitting physician, weight, and mother's identity were not enough. The length had to be in there as well, but ironically, when they finally did agree to notify the command, one piece of information was not passed on--Tag's length. We hadn't heard from Jordan since then, but it had only been 11 days. I longed to talk to him and share the joys of parenting with him, though I knew it could be days or weeks before he would call again. His birthday was coming up, and as much as I wanted him to hear my voice say "Happy Birthday, Babe," I knew it was a long shot. I at least had made a point to email him our wishes and some new pictures of both our babies.

When I opened my email at 2 AM the morning of his birthday my heart was comforted to find he had just emailed me. Maybe minutes before. I read his words and let them wash over me. He thanked me for the pictures and then Jordan ended his email with words that have become a theme for our lives.

"Take care of the kids. I have much to do here but the Lord will guide me."

In the coming months and years the implications of his words would become more clear. Because it was late--or was it early--I decided to respond to him later that morning. I knew even if I responded now, he wouldn't read it. Once he walked away from the computer or the phone he was back on whatever mission was on deck for the day. I fell asleep content though. And at peace if only for a moment.

It was just after 8 AM that the phone rang. Three-year-old Lucy was already downstairs with my mom, having breakfast and watching Imagination Movers on Disney Jr. Tag was sound asleep next to me. I didn't know how long his slumber would last, so when the phone rang I immediately silenced it. It wasn't a number I recognized. If it's important they'll leave a message, I thought. I knew how the numbers from overseas usually showed up, and that wasn't one of them. Still...something nagged at me.

Hello? I answered.

"Hello, I'm calling for Mrs. Hawthorne. Is this Mrs. Claire Hawthorne? Wife of SGT Jordan Hawthorne?"

And that's the moment the world stopped. My blood ran cold. My heart did things that would make monitors sound alarms into the void I was crashing into. I knew that if there was a death, someone knocked on the door. But you could be wounded and moments from death...the phone would ring. It could be minor. Or it could be life-threatening. I tried not to cry too loudly, still aware of the peaceful baby curled next to me in a perfect little ball of warmth. As I calmed down, I learned that shortly after he emailed me, Jordan was wounded when his small outpost was attacked. He sustained injuries that required him to be medically evacuated from the combat theater.

Thankfully, he was conscious at that point. After a brief and thoroughly vague summary of what happened, the person who called let Jordan have the phone. His voice sounded weak and terribly far away. It was as if the distance somehow tripled in size when he was hit by parts of the rocket. Through tears I managed to choke out, "Happy Birthday Babe" In true Jordan fashion he responded "Oh yeah. Those candles darn near killed me." His sense of humor was intact, at least. We only spoke for a few minutes as he was about to be rushed into the second of many surgeries to prep and stabilize him for leaving the country. The trip back to the States was painful and grueling. After getting to Germany, where he had more surgeries, there was a delay with their flights to the US. It was winter and the German weather did not want to let them go. Finally, after arriving at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Jordan entered treatment for combat wounds. But it wasn't always easy getting the treatment he needed. I had to fight for every appointment he was given. Despite a direct hit to the head that resulted in his jaw being rebuilt with titanium, the Army spent years denying that he had a brain injury. It wasn't until I fought all the way to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Surgeon General of the Army, and Secretary of the Army to get the care he needed.

Just when life had settled into a "new normal" the unthinkable happened. The kids and I were driving to a fall festival at the USO when traffic stopped. I was able to stop in plenty of time but the driver behind me was not. As I looked up into the review mirror I saw it and knew instantly what was going to happen. I saw the kids in the back, completely unaware. I saw the cars on either side of us that blocked us in. Then the impact happened. When you're sitting still at a dead stop the impact of a car going 55 miles per hour is indescribable. Everything is excruciatingly loud and then the silence is deafening. The kids were screaming. I could barely move or string sentences together. Because of my injuries, I couldn't even comfort my own children. We were once again turned over to the brain injury clinic at our military installation but this time it wasn't for Jordan, it was for me and the kids. Over the next few years all three of us would be diagnosed with brain injuries.

Living in the wounded warrior community we often hear people say the phrase "It changed my life forever."

I have never felt like that was adequate or correct. Our life didn't change. This was always what God knew was coming for us. We might have been surprised by it, but He wasn't. These events didn't change our life together as a family. It did make it different than what we expected. Ultimately, these traumatic events, just set our lives on the course that God always intended them to be. Now as a family, we're starting this ministry together.

And we have much to do...but the Lord will guide us.