I recall my first deployment as a spouse as though it were only yesterday. I was ten weeks postpartum, tired in both body and spirit, still trying to find my rhythm as a new mother. The days leading up to departure were a blur of sleepless nights and tender hours, when I wanted every moment to count but felt too drained to hold it all. The goodbye itself was painful, but what nearly undid me was the sight of the calendar — a stretch of time marked only by uncertainty. Four months was promised, but it could stretch to six. That kind of open horizon is heavy when your heart is already weary.

Invisible strengths are hard to name, perhaps because they do not trumpet their presence. They grow quietly, like roots beneath the soil, unseen until their hold steadies us. Only when we look back do we realize how much they have carried us, woven through our days like threads of resilience hidden in the fabric of our lives.