I just picked a banana peel up off the arm rest of a chair. But that's not what I want to blog about today.
I have a friend. Her name, because it's fun to give people an alias on this blog, is Brunhilda. And really, so, okay, her name is like the furthest thing from Brunhilda. It's like the antithesis of Brunhilda. Brunhilda. Brunhilda. Brunhilda. I really like saying it. I desperately wish I had a friend who's real life name was Brunhilda. I'd have all kinds of fun with that. Speaking of names, I've taken to calling The Rock Star Marvin O'Gravel Balloon Face and The Buddy Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate and if, without using a search engine, you know where I'd come up with such ridiculous names then 30 extra points for you. But anyway, Brunhilda.
I've never met Brunhilda because she lives with her husband who is stationed in Korea. Although, they're moving back to the states soon. In college, I worked with my friend, Joelle, in the cafeteria. We had a boss who married a guy who is now stationed in Korea. The Boss and Joelle were friends on facebook and The Boss began reading Joelle's blog. At some point she linked to my blog through Joelle's and began reading our story. It was a very similar story to what her friend, Brunhilda, was going through. So, through The Boss, Brunhilda and I became acquainted. We wrote a few times on email and read each other's blogs.
I won't give any details of Brunhilda's story here and, though I'd love to, I won't link to her blog. So many of you are incredible prayer warriors and I'd love to have you read her story but I won't subject her to what we've been through as a direct result of having this blog. I won't subject her to people writing blatant lies, untruths, and false information about her case and publishing those false accusations in various corners of the Internet. Brunhilda doesn't deserve that.
Excuse me, for a moment, as I take a few deep breaths, unclench my fists, and move on.
When I read Brunhilda's blog it's like reading my own thoughts. And she's said the same about reading mine. One night, my husband was working on the laptop and I was down in the basement on the desktop. As I read her blog I felt a sudden onslaught of emotion and instantly tears were slipping off my chin. Tears of joy that I was no longer experiencing that depth of pain but, mostly, tears of empathy. Now, we pray for her and her husband every night. We pray, as we prayed for our own situation, for the children. We pray for peace. We pray for God's mighty will to be done. We pray for the natural parents. And we pray for the tightness they feel in their chests, for the uncertainty she hides just behind her eyes--an uncertainty that can be seen when she finds herself staring off into space for a moment or two or twenty. We pray for him as he tries to be husband and daddy and serve our country with this level of stress pressing down upon him. And I'm asking you to lift them up in prayer as well.
We've been sending messages back and forth more regularly now. Her trial is approaching. But nothing happens by coincidence. Our "meeting" was not by whim. We live in Utah. They live in Korea. I found out a few days ago that their case is being heard in the same state that ours was. In the same city. In the same court house. On the same floor. In the same department. With the same judge. Coincidence? Maybe. If you believe in coincidences. Brunhilda and I, well, we believe in God.