The Room With the Ottoman, Next to the Divorce Building

I have a suspicion that around here, the hotels jack-up their prices when there's a big event happening, like the graduation of 208 new soldiers fresh out of boot camp.  The best deal I could find online was at the EconoLodge, which feels a lot like staying in a barrio.  Several rooms have their doors wide open with a bunch of hispanic men standing on the balcony chatting, keeping watch over their construction trucks.

Next to the EconoLodge, a giant commercial sign reads "DIVORCE", with an arrow that points to the shady building.  Sort of a satyrical "Welcome to the Army" sign.  We are 1/4 of a mile from the main gate to the United States Army, Fort Benning.  Two days from now, my husband will officially be a soldier.  I'm here to see that happen before I go back to a few more months of not seeing him while he goes through advanced training.  Then, after that, we can live in the same place again.    

I've been preparing myself as much as someone can prepare themselves for something that they know very little about.  I've been told that the divorce rate is high in the Army, but I'm not too concerned.  It can't be worse than the divorce rate of young evangelical couples fresh out of ORU, and yet here we are!  Here WE are, anyway... those sweet, naive kids we were when we first married have long since evolved into the 'us' that will reunite at Fort Benning in the morning after months of separation.  About halfway through boot camp, we realized that our marriage is now like a tree that survived the 2007 Oklahoma Ice-pocalypse.  If it couldn't withstand devastation, it'd have died already.  Every weak limb has snapped right off (or is ready to be taken off) and what is left is completely alive, vital and stronger than hell.

It doesn't mean the Army will be easy for us, though.  Arriving here still makes me a little trepidatious.  For a moment, I felt nervous that perhaps the worse version of what I expect this to be like will be true and that the next few years of my life will be something that I will describe as 'enduring'.  Then, on the way back to the EconoLodge Barrio after dinner, I saw in the distance a lit billboard that simply said, "Trust God".  I got choked-up with hope.  Then, I was amused at myself for responding that way, because if I saw the same billboard in Tulsa, I'd have scoffed at it for being hokey or something.  But then I realized I'd never seen a billboard like it in Tulsa.  All the ones in Tulsa are "witty" and/or have the name of a church under the message.  This one wasn't, and didn't.  It was not an advertisement.  Just a message.  One that called me to lay down my pride against religious billboards, and all of my selfish pride -while I'm at it- and embrace hope and grace in whatever form it comes in.    

In my hotel room, here at the EconoLodge Barrio, there is an ottoman that functions as the perfect altar to kneel down and pray.  I've recently started praying on my knees again.  It brings me home, wherever I am.  It's peaceful in my room now.

Whatever I will eventually describe the next few years of my life as, I know it will be described as a time that I prayed on my knees a lot.  And I've added to my list of ways to prepare for this, "Find a good ottoman."