Wait a minute, Mr. Postman! Can you deliver to 1941?

Letters.  Who writes letters anymore?  My Mama does, but she's an exception to the rule.  Come to think of it, my Mama is just exceptional, PERIOD, but that's a whole other story. <3

I was asked on Facebook yesterday, the 70th Anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, if I could write a letter to a Military wife from 1941, what would it say?  Well, we all know that it's been months since I posted here and certain people (ahem, James) are hounding me about it, and considering my wonderful husband will be headed to Afghanistan VERY shortly, this really stuck in my head and my heart. What would I say to someone who was in my situation 70 years in the past? 

This is what my heart wrote:

I'm not quite sure where you are or what you're doing right now, but I hope this letter finds you well.
You're probably reading this mid-day, just after the Postman handed it to you as you were waiting for him by the door for news, any news, from your love.  I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I do hope this will give you a bit of strength to carry on with the brave face you show to the world.

You see, I understand the fear that you try to push down daily... the lump in your throat that it is impossible to swallow.  I know how hard it is to sleep while he's gone because I have the nightmares, too, and although few talk about it, you certainly aren't alone.

Things are different in my time. Communication is more readily available to us thanks to the wonders of technology. We can talk to our husbands frequently, and sometimes even see their faces, but at night, I still feel the reality of the loneliness.

In his letters, does he tell you  not to worry, that everything will be fine? I'll bet he writes that he's safe, and bored, and can't wait to get home.  Some things never change.  He doesn't want to scare you, doesn't want you to worry, but you're already worried....and you aren't scared, you're terrified. But you're so very proud of him.

It's easier to hide the terror when you leave the house, because you cover it with pride, don't you? Not that the pride isn't always there, because it certainly is, but it's an easy mask for the worry.  Do you freeze in panic with every knock at the door, and then immediately begin to pray? I know all those feelings.

I'm sure you've thrown yourself into work, trying to stay busy, to pass the time. I pray that it works for you, and I pray that your loved one returns home safely and soon. Have you also dreamed about his return? Planned it over and over in your head...what you will wear, how you will be standing there when he finally sees you in the crowd? Hang on to those dreams...they are so much more comforting and warm than the awful, knock-on-the-door nightmares.

I guess the main reason for this letter is that I want you to know, on this historical day, that you are loved. There are generations of Military wives that respect your courage and know your fear and pain. This great nation owes you so much that could never be repaid, and we, I, thank you for your sacrifice and strength.  You are an inspiration, and I often think, on the difficult days, of the millions of wives who have sent their husbands off to war with the strength to carry a nation on their shoulders, and it makes my day a little easier to bear.

Thank you for your Service. As long as there are men and women willing to stand up and fight for our freedom, there will be loved ones at home who are waiting for their return.