Thursday, March 15, 2012: He was guided by Grace; he was persistent; he was resolute. His supervisors, inspired by his words, his determination to make something happen, put a date on it: March 25. They sent the fax off, yet again, requesting that he be accepted for duty at the Detroit Sector, but this time with an exact date: the start of the next pay period, March 25.
Joel had unearthed his ball and he put it right back into play!
He called me with the news. He told me about the date. He said his supervisors were going to "push this through" for him to get an answer from the "higher ups". He said that they were as determined as he was. He was elated. I was astounded; my eyes immediately filled but did not spill. Yet, after I hung up, quiet caution crept in, three years, two and a half months...such a long time with various and vague hopes that were never realized...
Nathan, calm, knowing, and sure said for the second time in two days: "He'll get it this time."
Me, confused and unsure: "Are you just saying that to make me feel better, or do you still really feel it?" (A few hours after I had dropped Joel off at the airport, he said he just felt it--that Joel would get it this time. He also said he knew Joel had finally learned that he needs to be more aggressive and that the guys he works for simply won't let him quit because he belongs in that job field.)
Nathan had heard about this story: When we were in Mexico, his brother, Dino, brought it up to him, about what he's been doing to get home to us these past two months, and then came the word "aggressive" and I couldn't help myself, I started to sing the old middle school/high school cheer: "Be! Ag-GRES-sive! Be! Be! Ag-GRES-sive!"
So Nathan knew: Leg work, combined with faith in yourself and the faith of others, combined with excellent work ethic equals Joel will finally get assigned a detail to work in Michigan. My son, the calm blue sea who makes others feel so at ease and peaceful, made me feel, at least for the moment, that this could be it.
But still, we did not tell Grace.
Inexplicably, I did tell everyone else. Not really on purpose. I didn't set out to tell people like my (favorite) sixth grade teacher, whom I hadn't seen in (calculating...) wow, 28 years or so (over 30 if you count from when he was last my teacher), but whom I had breakfast with on the morning of (and into the afternoon of) the 20th; he quizzed me on my life story and out it flowed.
I told school moms and school office workers who knew our story, because over the course of the school year it was revealed in one way or another, by Grace's frequent absences, by the absence and sudden appearance of her father, by the uncharacteristic (they thought) sadness during those moments in the mornings just before the school bell rang, when she was seeing him for the last time until...she never knew when...I told them. I told people every detail, down to the March 25th date. I told people who asked, like my sister, Cheri, who had read the latest post and knew the story of the night before Joel left, so she asked what happened with it once he'd been back to work in Arizona...and she happened to ask in front of all our book club members, so I told all of them, too!
And maybe Joel told his people...friends, family, I don't really know. But I do know the whole group of guys he worked with, and even the ones he rarely saw, knew about it because he said, "The news is spreading around the station; everyone knows about it, even this guy I hardly ever see from the K-9 Unit said something to me the other day; everyone's pulling for me, Gina..."
In a sense, together, we had started an energy chain...a prayer chain. Not that friends and family were not already always sending out their prayers and goodwill to us, but this time we had an exact date in a succinct time frame. If those people prayed, and even if they didn't, but simply hoped for it to work out for us--for Joel to get home to us by March 25th to work the same job in Michigan, so he could be with his family, finally-- now they had a pinpoint-focus.
Thoughts are energy and energy equals matter...thoughts do matter...
It's funny because really, I was worn and weary. My usually acute vision was blurred. Though I spoke hopefully to others about the magical March 25th date, it was not because my armored heart truly believed anything one way or the other. (My son's words soothed me, but could not completely convince me to drop that armor just yet.) It was because my head knew that my entire being (even my hiding heart) did believe in the power of thoughts and intentions, in the power of energy creating a reality--in other words, along with doing the all-important leg work to make things happen, I still believed in the power of prayer.
But though I was hopeful and optimistic when I spoke to others--because that's who I truly am in my buried core--my heart could only peek warily over the protective barriers. I couldn't see clearly to feel ...anything. I said this to Joel and to Nathan who were both so sure this time, especially Nathan. I realized that in juggling all the balls I tried to keep in the air for the past three plus years, and in trying to help Joel find his lost ball this past month, I had lost my own very special ball, the one made of crystal. At some point, without realizing it, I must have passed it off to Nathan, because he never wavered in his conviction that Joel would be home by the 25th.
Thursday, March 22, 2012: Still no news, but I did get a voicemail from a friend who had only the purest of intentions but who had inadvertently hurled a big, red dodge ball right at my gut with the perfect aim and velocity to knock the wind right out of me. She said, "Obviously the 25th isn't happening..." She went on to ask if we had heard any other news, a new date perhaps, that she could focus on for us...
The reason that ball had such power is because she put into words what I kept pushing to the back of my mind. The reason it had such power is because though I only wanted to believe that Nathan and Joel's intuitions were spot on, I didn't. It seemed too far-fetched. But to believe her words seemed...more realistic.
Yet, because some part of me knew that I must at least make others believe, I continued to spread the news to anyone I could, including that friend, to whom I reiterated the date in a text: Hi...Just heard your message. We're still waiting to hear and hoping for the 25th.
I had a hair-cutting appointment that I had forgotten about, and I didn't even want to go to because I knew she'd ask about Joel. But I went. I told her of the mystical March date and this time, I felt a little foolish because she could see I was only pretending to be hopeful and I could see that she was more than a little perturbed at my husband. She's never met him and she's always verbalized support our way, but I think she was just fed up with the whole situation and he was easiest to take it out on. The dodge balls were coming from all angles now.
Before driving home, I called Joel (told him lightly how I had inadvertently created friction between him and my hair dresser friend) who tried to reassure me that things were happening, he didn't know exactly what yet, but he was set to talk to his supervisor after he was done in the field at the end of his shift. He said: "If the answer was no, then they would've just told me already, right? And why would all these people know about and sound so positive...?"
Later, after Nate was home from school and I had just returned from my appointment, I asked him yet again: "Are you sure? Do you really feel it still?"
Without pause, he replied: "I'm sure. March 25th, Mom. He'll get it. He won't have to quit, he'll get it."
I balked: "But the 25th?? It takes two days to drive!"
My son, still so calm and clear, like the blue skies above during our two weeks of summer in this remarkable Michigan March, said: "He'll find out today that he got it."
Just like that.
An hour and half later, while Cheri was visiting after dropping off a dozen eggs from her friend's backyard chickens, and Grace was on a play-date (Providence: Nate and I had purposely kept her out of this ongoing seven day match...) Joel called to let me know he had received a call from a guy who he'd been talking to since this started, he mentioned, essentially, that he would be Joel's liaison while he was in Michigan...but then the guy said he really doesn't know anything and he has no authority to tell him whether he got the job in Michigan, but if he DID, then x y z...
And though I was finally hopeful, I still could not let myself fully believe it was happening.
Fifteen minutes later, Nathan was on one side of me and Cheri was on the other when I got the text from Joel just before I had to pick Grace up: I got it! Approved to start March 25. Waiting on a call back to get the next two days off. Will call in a few. Coming home baby!
When your balls are lost, when you can't keep track of all of them, when you feel like they are coming at you from all directions, it's nice to have friends and family who help you stay in the game. Thank you for the support and love; thank you to all at the station who helped "push it through" for my husband; thank you to those who, really stayed focused on that ethereal (at least to me) March 25 date as the day that Joel would get to come work and live in Michigan.
As promised to Nathan, I did not say anything to Grace until we were home so he (and his dad, who was there to pick him up by the time I got back), could see her reaction. Her friends were there in our drive-way, waiting to see if she could play, but we told them to give us a minute, and she knew, we barely got the words out... she shrieked with joy, "Daddy's coming home!!!??? He's really coming home for good??" We grabbed each other in a bouncy hug (bouncy--of course) as she chanted and we continued up and down in circles, while her friends looked on, "My daddy's coming home, my daddy's coming home...!" We clarified that it would only be the "job detail" that we had talked about back in January: 90 days here alternating with 30 days in Arizona for the next year and a half. But none of us, including Grace, cared. Joel was finally coming home and he didn't have to quit his job to do it.
But then she did ask when. When will he be coming home? I started to give her the "We're not exactly sure but in a few days" answer, when Nathan interrupted me with: "He's leaving tonight. He's packing right now and leaving. He called again while you were getting Grace..."
Grace was elevated to a higher shrieking decibel, "To-NIGHT??? Daddy's coming home toNIGHT?"
I was finally able to release without thought and the tears came. My husband was coming home...tonight. And I let my son hug me while my daughter ran up the street to spread the news.
By Saturday, the 24th, Joel had made it home to start work on Monday morning, March 26, the day before his 43rd birthday.
By late Sunday morning as we sat together on our sunny porch swing having lunch, one of the dad's from up the street, who was walking their dog congratulated Joel on getting home, and Joel wondered aloud at how he knew he was home-home. "Your daughter told the neighborhood and anyone else who would listen that Thursday night."
Happy Birthday, Honey. It's so good to have you home.
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