Priorities

Something amazing happened today, and I just had to share it.

I was talking with a girl in my office, and she happened to ask how things were at home with Little Lion Man.  I intended to smile politely and say, "oh, things are going well."  But somehow that suddenly turned into several minutes of pouring out my sorrows to a woman who doesn't even know my first name.  She was nice enough about it, and offered some resources like the Chaplain and emotional health services on base, but finished it up with the usual:

"Well, I hate to say it, but you knew what you were getting yourself into."

I bit my tongue hard enough that I thought I'd draw blood and tried not to cry.  After a few moments of awkward silence, she left.  I figured that, aside from making a fool of myself, that was the end of the conversation.

About half an hour later, my Chief - the woman in charge of our group of sailors - came into our office.  She sat down and said someone had told her I was having a hard time, and would I like to talk.  To summarize:

"Well Chief, I come home from work, walk my dog, pick my son up from the babysitter, spend a few hours with him, put him to bed, and cry myself to sleep because I just can't take this anymore."  I started explaining that I understood I made a commitment and should have known what I was getting myself into, but she raised her hand and said...

"No.  Your number-one priority needs to be taking care of that sweet little boy, and we're going to make that happen."

It doesn't end there, though.  Later I got a call from my leading Petty Officer, and he said that if I just made a few minor adjustments to my request paperwork, he would make sure it got to the Executive Officer today.


Which means the C.O. could sign off on it this week.


Which means this nightmare might finally be over.


"Praise Jesus" is such an inadequate phrase.