Wake-Up Call

I don't trust my premonitions. They are never right.
I knew that my first baby was a girl. Knew it.
I had a boy.
This went on for four more babies and each time I had a deep, gut-feeling.
Some call it a mother's intuition---knowing the baby they are carrying.
I was wrong every time.
So last night when my husband didn't call after his flight, I didn't panic.
He's a great fighter pilot. A Weapons School grad. A leader in the squadron.
He's too good of a flyer for anything to happen.
I didn't panic for the first hour.
Somehow in the midst of my exhaustion, my hormones, and my fears, I had a deep, gut-wrenching premonition.
Something had happened to him. There's been an accident.
And then he didn't answer any of his three phones.
And I knew...
He was flying at night. I always worry more when they are flying at night.
He was super tired.
And we had had a great day.
What does that equal?
I'll tell you.
My thoughts seemed logical last night.
Night-flying. Tired. Great day. It's obvious.
That equals disaster.
I thought back to the day.
We had surprised the kids and taken them to see Pirates of the Caribbean.
Fun memory.
We had taken them to lunch.
Lots of laughter.
The kids had kissed him over and over and over before he left.
I kissed him once.
Once.
I didn't think any more about it until I couldn't get a hold of my husband.
And then I thought in the midst of my panic that God had given us the perfect last day.
I googled Whiteman AFB to see if they had the news yet of the plane crash.
I watched out front for my notification team to show up on my door.
What is wrong with me? Seriously, what's wrong with me?
For an hour, I lay in bed imagining my life without him.
And I felt so empty.
We've not had an easy marriage the last 8 years.
We've had to work harder than most to stay married.
Sometimes, I thought it would be easier if one of us died...I probably shouldn't admit that.
Apparently, we are both stubborn enough (notice I didn't say Godly enough---I really mean stubborn enough) to not get a divorce.
Last night, I truly envisioned my life without him.
Lord, one more chance. Please let me be wrong and give me one more chance.
An hour later, the sweetest sound...my cell phone with his name.
I couldn't even be mad that he had forgotten to call.
It was a gift to me that he lived through his own death.
It reminded me to be thankful for my precious husband.
I'm so thankful for my husband. I'm thankful that I married him. I'm thankful for our children that are part me, part him. I'm thankful that I stayed married to him.
To heck with my premonitions...
I guess I don't have the gift of prophecy.
Thank goodness.