messykitchenministry

The Velveteen Mothers

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment

Mother’s Day always finds us in the final throes of the school year, sprinting towards the finish line. We have dragged ourselves out of bed for nine months, made 857 school lunches and hustled from piano to soccer to band to tennis to whatever. And WE ARE TIRED. My kid’s shoes have a hole in the toe and our lunch menu is a choice between bottom-of-the-bag chip crumbles or an almost expired granola bar I bought last October. (Bon Appetit kiddos!) I feel the ache of exhaustion in my legs and when I glance in the mirror, my face feels it, too. “Yikes! What happened??!” I say to my haggard twin. Then my inner girlfriend says “It’s age, honey. And exhaustion. It comes for all mothers.” Huh. Well, that’s stupid.

I’m no longer the peppy, spry mother I was in my twenties. Okay let’s be honest, I was never that peppy, but definitely more limber. Five minutes in criss-cross applesauce and my hips are locked for the entire weekend. But besides that, I’ve come a long way in my decades of parenting. Being in my forties has freed me from fretting over the small things that brought me to tears when I was younger (“Whyyyyyyyyy does this kid only nap for forty-five minutes instead of the ninety minutes this author suggested?? This is VERY. STRESSFUL!!”) My age has also gifted me with more grace for myself and my friends. Parenting is hard and we are all doing our best, right??

I have found motherhood to be eerily similar to riding the Incredicoaster at Disney California Adventure. It all sounds like fun and candy when my kids convince me to join them. I jump into the car hollering like a hipster, but after ten ups and downs and one loop-de-loop, hanging from the heavens, the ride stops and “WHAT JUST HAPPENED??” I exit looking ten years older with hair like an 80s rockstar. It is the whole experience of parenting, squeezed into a turbulent five minutes. No wonder I have stress lines on my face.

My point is this: so many of us have come a long way on this parenting journey (and this school year!) and it’s okay to feel a little tired. We have been a little roughed up! We have c-section scars on our bellies, gray hairs on our scalp, possibly some achy joints and definitely some emotional exhaustion from arguing about homework or fretting over the mental health of our beloved teenagers. But let’s not allow our energy or the mirror to zap us of our joy of motherhood. Let’s not focus on a couple trees and miss the beautiful forest around us BECAUSE IT IS THE MOST SPECTACULAR VIEW IN THE WORLD. How blessed are we to love and raise our children?? Beyond measure. ❤️

With these thoughts in mind, I recently saw an excerpt from the classic book “The Velveteen Rabbit” and saw it from a new perspective, a mothering perspective. Margery Williams says…

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

Isn’t that beautiful?? The world tells mothers to get our abdominal muscles back, layer gel packs under our eyes and inject botulism into our faces so we can look like we are twenty. But I’m not in my twenties! I am in my forties and I want to be Real as I love my family and they love me back. I want to continue to become, even if I am tired and look a little older. My age is proof that I have been around the sun many times and have gone through the Incredicoaster of parenting without breaking. My edges are smooth and I am STILL here. And you are, too. ❤️ Congrats to us!!

Hoping you all feel Real and beautiful on this Mother’s Day,

(Meanwhile, I’m not sure my chip crumbles are going to last for the next three weeks so I guess I am on my way to the grocery store. Wait…wait, I just found some old fruit snacks in the pantry. We’re good…we’re good.)

Military

USS Deployment and my lessons learned

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments

We knew the deployment was coming. We hauled our boat, USS Deployment, from the back of the garage where it had rested for a few years. Day after day we prepared, traded and packaged our responsibilities so we could be properly organized for the hour of departure.

“Do you remember how to row?” my husband asked, lowering the skiff into the ocean. “I know it’s been a while.”

“Of course!” I replied. “I’ve done this six times already; I know the route. Besides, the kids are more self-sufficient than last time so I expect the ride to be much easier.”

One by one, my husband transferred his responsibilities to me, all neatly labeled in boxes- CO- PARENTING, HOUSE MAINTENANCE, DOG TRAINING, FINANCES, LEADERSHIP. Panic rose within me as I watched the boat sink lower with the weight, my mind frantically confronting the reality of this situation. No good worrying now, I thought. Reality is here and there’s no turning back!

After an endless array of last-minute business transfers and a series of emotional farewells, I finally loaded the kids into the boat, positioned the oars and pushed off from the shoreline. Aiming the bow towards the direction of the finish line, my mind snapped to attention- I think I can, I think I can, I am woman hear me roar!! With a confident air, I glided through the water with my kids, each pull of the oars taking us further away from the beach. We cried a little, laughed a little, and felt hopeful that time would pass quickly. This will be a great experience for us, I thought. No problemo.

But sooner than I expected, my arms began to ache, my body felt stiff and the plain truth revealed itself: I had clearly lost some muscle strength in the years since our last deployment. Having relied on my husband to do half the rowing since then, I found that suddenly pulling the full load was more difficult than I expected. About one thousand pounds more difficult than I expected. The kids were older and no longer trying to drown themselves every minute, but they were bigger and heavier than last time. Their backpacks were filled with different activities and stresses- sports, screens, drivers ed, geometry. I felt their added weight as I continued to flex my weak muscles.

As more time passed, I started losing speed and felt frustrated by my inability to man the rowboat efficiently. While I had distanced myself from the shore, our final destination didn’t seem any closer. How on Earth am I going to do this? Why is this so much harder than I thought? I recalled all the bumper stickers and Facebook memes with “Deployment Strong” in bold letters, all the times I told spouses “Refuse to Sink”, and yet here I was, feeling weak and undeniably sinkable. What was I doing wrong??

Glancing towards the sky in frustration, I noticed a little bird flying closer and closer, eventually landing on my shoulder. “You know,” it said, “your neighbor cooked a leg of lamb with mint sauce last week while you couldn’t muster enough energy for spaghetti.” Scowling at the bird, I yelled “GO AWAY!” but the squawking continued. “And your other neighbor is somehow managing to row her boat, work forty-hours per week and oversee the construction of a new orphanage in Uganda. So why are YOU so exhausted?” My shoulders visually slumped as my emotions got the best of me. Clearly, I was failing at this task. (Or was I? Why was I comparing myself to other people? And why did I feel so much pressure to effortlessly glide through this deployment without feeling any of the waves? Was that a realistic goal?)

At that point I noticed our boat sinking so low in the ocean that water was pooling in the bottom. Emotions aside, I knew that if we didn’t start unloading some of the weight, we would all go under. “Jesus take the oars” I whispered and decidedly muted the negative bird and made some solid, practical decisions. The key to our survival (and success) was throwing extraneous boxes overboard in order to stabilize our life. Goodbye PERFECT HOUSEKEEPING, goodbye HOUR-LONG HOME-COOKED MEALS (or leg of lamb), goodbye VOLUNTEER OF THE YEAR, WORKING OVERTIME and NEW KID ACTIVITIES WHICH REQUIRE MORE DRIVING. Farewell DOG TRAINING and can we please throw the canine overboard altogether?? (There was mutiny after that suggestion.) With or without the dog, drastic times called for drastic measures and I felt the difference almost immediately.

With expectations lower and our boat steadying over the waves, we finally sailed into our daily routines. Some weeks, the sun shone brightly, we put our best feet forward, stopped in new harbors and made new memories together, despite Dad’s absence. Other weeks, storm clouds came about, emotions ran high, we ate unreasonable amounts of frozen meatballs and spent too much time on screens. Yet, we survived. Despite the weather, my muscles grew accustomed to the pull and the boat glided forward. So many lessons learned in those first few months…

The kids continually grew in height and in spirit and learned that they were capable of doing difficult things. Emotions could be strong and missing Dad could be overwhelming, but life required them to take a deep breath, get out of bed every day and conquer their responsibilities. (And in a world of over-coddled children, this wasn’t a bad challenge.) They shifted many of their boxes onto their own laps and maturely flexed their own rowing muscles when needed.

My lessons came in droves. My well of perseverance was far deeper than I realized; every time I thought my arms couldn’t row another stroke, I did. When I sailed into an emotional whirlpool and couldn’t get out, I admitted my struggle to friends and then sought a professional counselor to help me stop spinning. Most importantly, I learned that sometimes my expectations are unrealistic and the goals I set for myself must be altered. That is not a failure on my part, but a simple change in navigation.

So with this insight, in sun and in shadow, our weeks and months passed. We took care of each day as it came, forgetting the calendar and wrapping ourselves in the busy-ness of life. Then one morning we groggily scanned the horizon and noticed a blurred shape forming in the distant mist. Wait, is that the shoreline?? Could this be possible?? Then, around us we noticed other skiffs gliding in the same direction- a regatta of families and friends heading towards the same finish line. I heard the sound of newborn babies, waiting to meet their deployed fathers. I saw professional men and women, anticipating their spouses’ return, glowing with confidence from all they had accomplished at work and at home. Parents stood in the bows of their boats, enormous pride on their faces as they awaited the return of their sons and daughters. A new energy crackled through the air as we made eye contact because WE ALL KNEW.

Heads looked up in unison as the sky exploded into a million sounds and aircraft shot towards the heavens, free from the bounds of the carrier and off to the airfields to find solid ground and loving families. Rays of sunlight reflected off the majestic ship lurking in the distance, small white figures lining the deck of the vessel.

My kids looked over at me with joyful tears in their eyes and adrenaline shot through my muscles as I accelerated my speed. Over and over and over I pulled on those oars, inching closer and closer to the sand. Every hard day, every exhausted night, every decision, every virus, every lonely moment in the middle of the ocean propelled us forward towards that final destination that lingered within reach. WE COULD SEE THE END.

My kids jumped up, waving their arms yelling “Daddyyyyyyyyyy!!!!” and my tears came swiftly. My sweet, brave kids had done it. They had battled stress and anxiety and uncertainty to make it here. And so had I. God helped us, WE DID IT.

Our USS Deployment hit the sand, lurching us momentarily forward. We scrambled out, dumped the oars on the shoreline and shaded our eyes from the blaring sun. And then we saw him, back on land and walking towards us, the walk that we would have recognized anywhere. No one had to tell us what to do next——– > WE RAN. ❤️

EPILOGUE

Our boat rests for now, hidden in the back of our garage, out of sight but not out of mind, for another deployment looms ahead, a milestone waiting in life’s queue. Whatever comes our way, we know there will be ups and downs and rights and lefts. Some gains and some losses. We know for certain that our next journey will not be perfect… but does it need to be? Nope. LESSON LEARNED.

To my fellow milspouses: do not be afraid to ask for help. Call Military OneSource at 800-342-9647 or visit them online at www.militaryonesource.mil. And no matter what…just keep rowing, one stroke at a time.

Original photo by Daniel Ian, Unsplash

Military

Respecting Military Families on Social Media

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TO MY NON-MILITARY FRIENDS:

Do you know what a CACO is? [Kay-co] My guess is no. It stands for Casualty Assistance Calls Officer. You know them from films as the impeccably dressed men in uniforms who arrive on the doorsteps of WWII widows to announce the news of the deceased (think “Saving Private Ryan”). We, in the military community, know them as every day service members, sometimes our good friends, always the people who walk beside families during an injury or grieving process (for months or years) as paperwork is processed and affairs are put in order.

Every unit in the Navy has someone trained as a CACO, should a service member be seriously injured or killed during his/her service. We military spouses understand the role of this person and hope we never interact intimately with him/her, but if we linger long enough, we hear of it happening. We hear of the CACOs visiting and informing every person designated by the service member in the official paperwork. And our entire community grieves.

Years ago, upon an injury or death, the CACO would receive the official list, coordinate with CACOs in other cities and states (if necessary) and attempt to notify the next of kin in-person as soon as possible. But they wouldn’t come between the hours of midnight and 4:00am. Now, in 2022, it’s a minute-by-minute race against the internet, television and social media. It’s a race against smart phones and photos and tweets that can be sent across the world in five minutes or less. And in a world of sensational news stories, military mishaps are just that.

People race to share articles and details- SHOCK THE WORLD, BE THE FIRST TO ANNOUNCE THE NEWS, or maybe even just express patriotism and gratitude for those who sacrifice it all- but have they thought about who might see it? Aren’t we all connected by six degrees? Think of the spouse who is innocently scrolling through Facebook and sees someone share a news story about a military accident or possible death. What if their spouse is in that area or deployed on that ship? SHEER PANIC. What about the mother/father/brother/aunt/best friend or cousin who stumbles upon the news while posting their Wordle score on Facebook? TERROR.

As military spouses we know that when we hear of anything in this category, we aren’t supposed to call anyone or become private investigators. We know that our job is to stay quiet, sometimes stay home and simply wait, because we understand the role of the CACO and we know that the official processes have begun and we are not to interfere, or worse, cause emotional harm to someone who hears through inappropriate channels. We know the Navy will release the names twenty-four hours after the next of kin are notified and we are not to interrupt the flow of information.

Believe me, waiting is easier said than done. I sat in my house once, weeping alone by my front window when my neighbor’s aviation squadron had a death and the name hadn’t yet been announced. Was it him?? What about his family?? Should I go over there?? I wanted to run across the lawn and bang on the door and know for myself what was happening!! But as another wise military spouse once told me: “This is not about you.”

Many of us in the aviation community remember the tragic story of the spouse waiting to hear about the fate of her husband whose aircraft had crashed into the sea. “Search and Rescue Called Off” was shared by a Facebook “friend” before her CACO had made contact with her again. SHE LEARNED OF HER HUSBAND’S OFFICIAL DEATH ON FACEBOOK. Please pause and ruminate on that horrible tragedy.
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Unfortunately that is not the only example of gross social media failures amongst the military community. They are still happening. The only way to stop them is to be ever mindful of the speed of news and the online spaces that connect us all.

As I was thinking about this subject, I was hoping that my younger military spouse friends understood the gravity of these situations. And then it made me wonder if the public did. ? So maybe this is my non-official Public Service Announcement, to share the details of tragic circumstances to help people to understand that while knowledge is power, it is also tremendously tragic if used and propagated at the wrong time.

Please think soundly when you want to share an article about a service member’s recent death. If the Department of Defense has not yet officially released the names and the photos of the deceased, it is not appropriate to share ANYTHING. If you know the identity before that press release, please don’t post on a family’s timeline or newsfeed because, again, who is going to see that prematurely? Even a simple “I am so sorry for your loss”, written publicly at the wrong time, is vastly inappropriate.

REMEMBER: it’s not about you.

And it’s not about me.

It’s about caring for and respecting military families in the midst of crisis.

Please join me in protecting our service members and being good stewards of information.

**If you are interested in further supporting Navy & Marine Corps families in the midst of crisis’, consider donating to The Wingman Foundation at wingmanfoundation.org**

Life

Wanted: COVID-19 Life Coach. Because I am tired.

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments

Dear Applicant,

I am a woman in my 40s, raising multiple children and FEELING EXHAUSTED (and a bit sarcastic). We are approaching our third spring in Pandemic-Land and I simply cannot make another decision about this darn coronavirus. A COVID-19 Life Coach would help me sort through information and make solid decisions about my parenting and lifestyle choices in this modern world. Because, to quote Jack Black in the movie Jumanji– “I can’t even with this place.”

TITLE: COVID-19 Life Coach

REQUIREMENTS: Non-crazy adult over the age of 30.

COMPENSATION: Numerous Nespresso lattes and a free subscription to my daily texting stream of sarcastic memes.

REASONS YOUR APPLICATION WILL BE IMMEDIATELY REJECTED:

You believe the vaccine holds a microchip that will turn us into robots to be tracked and controlled by Bill Gates.

You believe the best answer to this pandemic is to move off the grid, homeschool our children and commune with grizzly bears rather than humans.

JOB RESPONSIBILITIES:

1) Help me determine when and how to isolate my family. Half my friends think I am paranoid and the other half think I am irresponsible. We want to live our lives in freedom but we have had one thing after the next- family visiting, travel plans, important weeks for my husband’s job, special activities for our kids and so on. I’m tired of saying “Masks on, kids!! We can’t get sick right now!!” but we have had very few times when sickness would have been convenient. I don’t live in fear of death (or even illness), but with anxiety that my own carelessness will mess with our plans, or worse, the health and plans of others. [Coincidentally, I am currently composing this application while self-quarantining in our guest room because of an ill-timed mystery virus and the panic of wrecking my husband’s important week. **Sigh…]

During these two years, I have been a mother of strange questions, like- “Are his/her parents vaccinated? Has your friend received the booster yet? How long has your left nostril been plugged?? It could be COVID!! (…or the flu or allergies or pollution or stress or too much dairy). Our daily conversations are ridiculous and my anxiety over singular sneezes and tiny ailments have reached Mt. Everest on numerous occasions. I AM OVER IT.

I have also been a mother of no during these strange times and that guilt and responsibility weighs on my shoulders as I realize how many social opportunities my kids have missed in the name of health. Parenting through this pandemic has been tough and I am not sure I have succeeded. Or have I? What should our family’s goal actually be now? To avoid COVID ourselves? To protect our community at all costs? To learn to live alongside it? [Edit: add Help me determine future goals.]

2) Help me wade through the waters (and repeating tsunamis) of overwhelming information. Who do I listen to? The CDC, studies from Israel, my friends, a YouTube doctor or my family practitioner who has more experience with strep throat than coronavirus?

What about the efficacies of cloth, medical, KN95 and N95 masks? And which ones are fake?

What about the accuracies of PCR, rapid and at-home tests? Is Omicron better tested in the throat than the nose?

What about the vaccine information? We needed two shots, then (oops!) three, and now maybe four?? When does it end? Clearly, we do not know. This “live science” thoroughly exhausts me as I try to stay abreast of the latest details and weed through the politics of it all. I want to retire. I do not wish to type “COVID-19” into Google ever again. PLEASE RESEARCH IT ALL.

3) Help me to be cautious, but not extreme in either direction. I pride myself on seeing all sides of an issue, of staying neutral and honest and focusing on facts. But what are the facts in this COVID crisis? Again, they seem very fluid and it is making me lose my mind. This is why I am looking for an individual to help me be a good parent and citizen in the middle ground. I don’t want to pretend that COVID does not exist (because I care about our community and the overcrowded hospitals), but I also do not want to live in an underground bomb shelter for thirty years like Christopher Walken in Blast From the Past. Have I made that desire clear? I NEED A REASONABLE PLAN.

And finally…

4) Help me navigate the post-Quarantine fashion world. Do I really need to wear anything but joggers or leggings? I need advice here because I can’t seem to break my 2020 habit. As my preschoolers always said- “Jeans are not soft pants.” My husband encouraged me to buy new clothes so I splurged on two pairs of expensive sweatpants instead of the Target brand because this is where I exist. (I did wear heels one night in 2021 and barely recovered.) What sort of clothing do I actually need in 2022?? INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

If you have any further questions about this position, feel free to contact me. If you have further evidence that Bill Gates is after my soul, please do not contact me.

Original Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash

Life, Uncategorized

It’s a Merry Messy Christmas

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I’m a lover of paper magazines, especially in November and December. Not the online versions, but the hard copy delights that bring joy to my mailbox. They are Instagram in my hands as I scrutinize every page and decorated table- the white tablecloths, the garlands perfectly winding through the centerpieces, the gold lined napkins perfectly placed beside the red and green plates, the dimmed lighting and flickering candles. *sigh*…so gorgeous.

But inevitably, my mind does wander… and wonder. Do those tables always look so perfect? Do their kids ever nudge the plates or leave chocolate finger prints on the white table cloths? Is the table actually discolored and scratched beneath the fabric? My eyes glance over at my own dining room table, covered in a Christmas sewing project… and then my Kitchen Aid mixer on my counter, surrounded by specks of flour and leftover spices that someone forgot to put away (ok, that someone was me.) During December, I do decorate our abode with garland, lights and shiny Hobby Lobby treasures, but it can also a flour-y, paper-y house of chaos. It’s definitely not worthy of an HGTV spread because it can be…well… messy.

But if we are honest, isn’t much of the holiday season itself a bit messy?

It’s a time of complicated family dynamics- managing relationships and opinions while spending hours upon hours coordinating gatherings, meals and gifts. It can be joyful, but also difficult.

It’s a time of busy schedules- holiday recitals, school dress-up days, work parties, teacher gifts, church musicals and a bulging calendar. It can be fun, but also overwhelming.

It’s a time of conflicting emotions- a season of joy for many, but a lake of grief for others who are missing their loved ones. “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” is often very, very difficult for families missing a stocking or a seat at the dinner table.

We all exist somewhere in the middle of the mess, don’t we? It’s the natural ebb and flow of life, the days when we are on par and the days when we are many shots behind. The times when our houses resemble magazine covers verses the times they look like crime scenes. During the Christmas season I am always reminded that God exists in the mess, too, in our ups and downs, successes and failures. He doesn’t shy away from any of it and doesn’t wait for people to reach perfection before pursuing them. Throughout the Bible we see numerous examples of how He redeems messy humans and considers them worthy to be a part of His holy family.

I think of how His chosen, beloved people, the Israelites, were CLEARLY imperfect people. My goodness, He rescued them from slavery in Egypt, into a place of freedom, only to hear them dramatically grumbling about their empty stomachs! “Oh that we were back in Egypt”, they moaned, “and that the Lord killed us there! For there we had plenty to eat!”- Exodus 16:3 (Which emoji do I insert here? The eyeroll or the head in the hands?)

I think of how the Israelites spent the entire Old Testament promising obedience to God but then “Look, squirrel!!” So God would rescue them again from their troubled selves. Over and over, He chose them, forgave them, wiped them off and put them back on their feet. I have heard people say “the Old Testament God is an angry God” but when I read through it, I see an extraordinary example of love and faithfulness. (I also see an example of an exasperated parent forced to repeat himself over and over again and maybe banging his head on the wall, but we can talk about that another time.) The miracle of His relationship with His people is that He loved them anyway.

I also think of Jesus’ family tree in Matthew 1, mentioning the names of only five women. Who were they? Perfectly righteous individuals who would be worth bragging about? Nope. They were MESSY. Tamar was twice-widowed and solidified her place in the family tree by tricking her father-in-law into conceiving a child with her; Rahab is thought to be the town prostitute; Ruth was a Moabite, a member of the neighboring cursed people; Uriah’s Wife (Bathsheba) cheated on her husband and conceived a child with King David; and finally… there was Mary, the scandalous teenager who was pregnant before she was married. Interesting, isn’t it? If God required us to be perfect, why would He choose such imperfect people to be part of his family? I think that answer is clear: He loves us anyway.

Christmas is neither the beginning nor the end of the story, but the beautiful middle chapter in God’s plan for us- when He saw us, acknowledged our messy selves, loved us anyway and finally came to rescue us. Christ coming to Earth in a messy, dirty stable and running the race on our behalf erased the stain of imperfection and allowed us to live in a state of grace. For this reason, we celebrate Christmas- that we don’t have a God who is aloof and far away, but a God who is called Emmanuel, “God With Us”. And He is– here with us, in the mess, alongside us, always. ❤️

So off you go. Wishing you all a Merry, Messy Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Original Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

Military

Military Spouses and the Invisible Backpack: a conversation about stress

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments

“Congratulations on your wedding and welcome to the military!” he said. “Here is your dependent ID card, your application for DEERS and your invisible backpack. Slip it over your shoulders, tighten the straps and you will be good to go.”

“Wait, what?” I said in confusion, turning around, trying to view my back. “You just put a backpack on me? Where? Why? I don’t see it!”

“Oh, you won’t ever see it, but it’s part of the package for every dependent.” he explained. “Don’t worry, every military spouse has one. Try not to let it get too heavy. Next in line please!”

“What are you talking about??” I tried to ask. Feeling confused, I shuffled out of the room and quietly began my military spouse journey, never fully understanding the baggage I was acquiring along the way. It would take me two decades to fully comprehend the invisible backpack.

****

Moving past that imaginary scenario, the beginning of my Navy life was a little rough, I’m not gonna lie. But through the years I learned to love it and by the time my husband reached twenty years I was 100% in. Sure, I had some strange rashes and unexplained health issues but never you mind that. All was well!

One day during our COVID quarantine, I was discussing mental health with a friend (six feet apart) and our conversation turned to that of military spouses. This friend so aptly described this life like wearing an invisible backpack that gets heavier and heavier as the years pass and I thought her analogy was PERFECT. (Thanks Rebecca!!)

Like frogs in a pot of water that gets warmer and warmer, military spouses often do not realize the stress they are carrying because of the incremental changes. Obviously, we know on the surface that we have challenges before us, but what choice do we have but to go about our business, get the jobs done, get the kids fed and do what we must? We channel Rosie the Riveter, pull up our positive pants, support our spouses and find dear friends to walk with us along the rocky path. But I’ve realized that in spite of our awesomeness, we are not taking enough time to consider the weight on our shoulders and the rock collections we gather. We simply cannot ignore this revelation. It goes like this…

We uproot ourselves and move to a new place. In goes a rock.

We kiss our spouses goodbye and go long stretches of time without seeing them. In goes a rock.

We live with a schedule which is always written in pencil. In goes a rock.

We solo-parent for days, weekends and months. In goes a large, heavy boulder.

We feel depressed and anxious but we don’t want to tell anyone because we are supposed to be “deployment strong”. In goes a rock. And then another.

We live within a constant countdown- when they are leaving, when they are returning, when we are moving- rock after rock go into our collections.

We manage the kids, the job, the pets, the household, the cars, the yard, the next move and all the small but significant details of life which make our backpacks heavier and heavier. But the truth is that we often don’t notice the weight because it disguises itself in the form of subtle, low, chronic stress that feels “normal”. Everyone around us is doing the same thing so this is just life, right? No big deal. (Notice that I am not talking about dealing with the stress of a spouse in war or combat. That stress is real and palpable and impossible to ignore.)

The reality is, these subtle pressures don’t seem like a big deal until our bodies and souls decide enough is enough. My “enough” moment came a few years ago when I was sitting in a dermatologist’s office, waiting for a diagnosis on a wicked rash on my scalp. The doctor took one look at me and said “On a scale of 1-10, this is a 20! Honey, you need to lower your stress, what have you been doing??” I thought about how my husband had been gone over five hundred nights in the last three years and how I had recently moved my family three thousand miles to a place where I knew almost zero people. My shoulders slumped and I began awkwardly crying in her office as I finally acknowledged that I had carried the world on my shoulders and I was exhausted. (So was the doctor after my strange, unexpected outburst!!)

But the truth is, until that doctor’s appointment, I wouldn’t have told you that I was bearing years of stress. As I said, I genuinely loved the Navy, our base was stellar and I was terribly sad to leave our community, even though it deployed again and again. I would have told you that there were times and periods of stress but far more positive days. So therein lays the problem: because I didn’t “feel” physically stressed all the time, I never did anything to actually relieve it. Because I didn’t “feel” the rocks in my invisible backpack, the stress accompanied me unnoticed and invisible.

I finished that week of doctor appointments with a couple auto-immune diseases on my plate and concluded that ignorance was definitely NOT bliss. While I had a genetic component to ultimately blame for these conditions, I was forced to finally understand that stress was real and active and definitely destructive, if not given proper attention. Armed with new awareness, I needed to remove that invisible backpack and quickly empty as many rocks as possible. NOW.

Do you? Have you ever considered the burdens on your shoulders and acknowledged the weight? Have you sat down and talked with your spouse and family about how you might lessen the load? Because IT IS OK TO NOT BE OK. It’s ok to admit that your shoulders are sore. It’s ok for us to take a time-out, evaluate our habits and start considering ways to help ourselves!

We can take stress and self-care seriously. This isn’t about going to the beach every weekend or planning a vacation for next summer. It’s about taking care of yourself in small, daily increments. Whatever lowers your stress for a brief moment- DO IT. Not later, but TODAY. Not when a deployment ends, but NOW. Every day. Here and there, make it happen.

We can be conscious of our schedules and current responsibilities and say NO more often. When your spouse is gone and you are juggling the world and someone asks you to volunteer for something, the answer might need to be NO. When all your kids want to join ten activities at once, the answer might also need to be NO. After my doctor’s lecture, I said NO to everything for a few months in my new city… but felt guilty and uncomfortable. What will people think?? I wondered. Short answer: WHY DID I CARE?? It was my life, my call and my health. I desperately needed that slow time and you might, too. But beware, you might start a blog in the middle of the stillness. 😉

We can hire babysitters or form a co-op to give our busy hands a break. Solo-parenting day after day after day is a weight on your shoulders, even if you adore your young children. Don’t feel guilty. Being YOUR best self is going to make you a better parent. Hear this: there is no golden trophy for the parent who never asks for help or goes through an entire deployment without a minute’s reprieve. The only reward is severe exhaustion. 😦

We can focus on finding community to help and support us– an FRG, an OSG, a neighborhood group, a club or a church. We were created to bear each other’s burdens and live in communion with one another. You don’t need to be a superhero in your own cave- come out and find a tribe!

We can tap into the resources offered to us by the military– Fleet & Family, Navy Chaplains, Military OneSource, and Child Development Centers all have resources to help you. Be brutally honest with yourself and the areas in which you need relief. And if you don’t know where to find it, ask your local spouses. If you don’t know anyone, message me and I will help you!

I have loved our twenty plus years in the military and wouldn’t trade them for the world (my reflections are here). But the subject of stress and mental health must be part of our broad conversation as we go forward. So let’s continue to talk about it, improve it and lighten our backpacks. IT’S TIME.

Wishing you all the very, VERY best!!

[Original unmodified photo by Joseph Young on Unsplash]

Life

That Time I Was Forced To Get A Dog

June 2, 2021January 19, 2022by messykitchenministryLeave a Comment

Once upon a time there was a husband who wanted a dog. The wife said “There’s no way in the world I am adding a dog to my responsibilities right now. The kids are too little and you are deployed too often. This is not the best time for us.” And so the conversation was put on the shelf.

Later there was a husband and some kids who wanted a dog. The mother said “We are in a rental house and probably moving soon so this is not the best time for us.” And so the conversation was tabled. (But the husband whispered to his children “If we ever return to California, we can get a dog.”)

Then the family returned to California. “Hooray, we can get a dog!” shouted the children. But the mother pouted in the corner because this was NOT THE BEST TIME.

“When is the best time?” the father asked.

“After Thanksgiving!” the mother replied.

“After Christmas!” she said later.

“After we finish our house remodel!” she added in January.

The exasperated father finally said “It seems like you are delaying this entire thing!”

“That is correct.” she admitted.

Because the truth is this mother didn’t actually like animals. Sure, her favorite tv show was “Crikey” but that’s because she loved Steve Irwin and wanted to be sure his kids were emotionally stable (and maybe she had a mom crush on his son, Robert). Watching the Animal Planet does not automatically translate into the desire to cohabitate with a furry beast. The responsibility, the dirty mess, the lack of freedom. Does this mother sacrifice herself or crush the souls of her children? She found herself in a great conundrum.

Shocking surprise, THIS WOMAN WAS ME.

In my marriage, my husband is the Dreamer and I am the Realist (otherwise affectionately known as “pessimist” or “wet blanket”). He adds spontaneity to our family and I come behind to decipher the onslaught of details (often complaining). Over and over he said “Our kids are going to love a dog!” And while I agreed, I couldn’t get past the dirty details- the shedding, the mess, the sleepless nights, the discipline, the years of responsibility, most of which would fall on my shoulders as the kids went to school and he went to work, or worse, deployed for six months. But he and the kids wore me down DAY. AFTER DAY. AFTER DAY. I found my language subtly changing to a “Maybe” and then “If you can find a dog that doesn’t shed” and then finally a declarative “FINE. WHATEVER.”

With gusto and enthusiasm, my husband rushed to fulfill my children’s dreams, scanned the local shelters and then turned to the dark world of online puppy ads. The COVID-19 puppy shortage is a real thing and, unfortunately, dishonest people noticed.

“I have puppies but my mother just died so I move to Idaho. I send you the puppies if you wire me money.” Umm… No.

“I have puppy but husband died so I move to San Diego. I ship puppy if you send me money.” Umm…No.

“I am electrical engineer and very busy. I have had a death in the family but can send you the puppy.” NO!!! (Is the world one big pool of criminals??)

I kid you not, there was a fourth person. We went to a woman’s house, selected a puppy, named it “Winston” and planned to return the following weekend to adopt him. Then five days later the woman texted “My parents died in the one hundred car pileup in Texas so we will contact you later.” We never heard from her again but she was quick to respond to my undercover teen (and news reports didn’t corroborate her story). All I could picture was Buddy the Elf narrowing his eyes and saying “You sit on a throne of LIES.” All I can say now is: if one is going to lie about puppies and make little kids cry then be warned. God is watching you, Karolina Puppy Scammer.

So as my children sat in our living room, shedding their tears and childhood innocence that fateful day, I laid on the floor like a beaten horse and said “WHY ON EARTH ARE WE DOING THIS??” But my husband declared “Kim- you are going to love this dog someday.” He pressed onward again, found a breeder online who had one more puppy available and exclaimed that we could hop in the car RIGHT NOW to get her. With enough passive-aggression to fuel the state of California, I sat in silence as we drove an hour to this new family’s house. WHY ON EARTH ARE WE DOING THIS??? I thought over and over and maybe voiced to everyone in the car. This was going to ruin my life. (I wonder in hindsight if I should have majored in drama in college?)

That afternoon we adopted a seven-week old yellow, shedding, Labrador puppy. (Well, technically, she is “champagne” color because we are that fancy.) Her panicked yelping and whimpering in her new crate caused my tender-hearted children to finally emotionally collapse in the car so we spent our return trip home listening to the sobbing hearts of both humans and beast. Stick a fork in us because we were DONE.

The rest of the evening was a blur of emotion- shock over the Queen of Lies and the loss of “Winston”, and continued shock that we adopted a second puppy who now lived in our kitchen. A living, shedding, messy, feral toddler that I had tried to avoid for years. As I sat in numbed silence a friend texted me and said “You got a lab! We loved our lab! She lived for fourteen years!!” I began mentally calculating the length of time before us, but was interrupted by my teen’s response- “Oh good!! My own children will get to meet her!” Dear Jesus help me, I thought. I will be caring for this lassie until I am a gray-haired grandmother.

And so began our life with our California dog, befittingly named “Cali”. The first month was not my personal best; Baby was put in a corner and lashed out. I might have inappropriately yelled at my family for bringing about this misfortune (#dramatic). I might have rolled my eyes a million times and cried as the wee beastie attacked my legs each morning with her razor sharp puppy canines. I might have wished that the Irwins lived closer so I could send Cali to the Zoo with visitation rights on the weekends. But I did recall that my first month of motherhood was equally shocking and painful and filled with questions about my future. It seems I have a hard time transitioning. 😉

As time progressed, ever so slowly, this beast eventually began to melt my frozen heart. When I entered the puppy zone each morning she started peeing with excitement because YOU ARE THE BEST AND ALL I ASK IN LIFE IS TO BE WITH YOU!! When I opened the freezer she enthusiastically joined my search for ice because IT’S SO COLD AND CRUNCHY AND I LOOOOOVE IT!! If I opened the dishwasher she magically appeared because DO I SMELL CHICKEN OR PEANUT BUTTER ON THESE PLATES IT IS GLORIOUS!! If she cleverly escaped our puppy barriers and raced down our hallway with the wind blowing in her jowls, I couldn’t help but laugh. Her zest for life was contagious. And honestly, after a year of COVID weirdness and perpetual Groundhogs Day, I found myself smiling more often.

We are now three months into this journey with our Cali-girl and here comes the time when I humbly admit it: MY HUSBAND WAS RIGHT. It’s impossible not to love this hilarious dog. She manically chases the water hose, barks at deer antlers and runs away with kitchen towels like a bandit stealing a truckload of gold. Any human or animal within fifty feet is a friend and anything that can fit into her mouth is a potential energy source. I LOVE FOOD SO MUCH AND WANT IT ALL THE TIME AND WILL EAT MY MEAL IN 2.4 SECONDS WHEN IS MY NEXT ONE?? OH WAIT- A KITCHEN CABINET! I CAN CHEW ON THAT FOR A WHILE…

While hilarious, it’s not perfection. There is hair everywhere, my new floors are filthy and she’s tried digging multiple holes to China in our backyard. But despite the growing pains, our family has changed for the better. One of my children finally overcame her deathly fear of dogs after almost a decade of real and vivid terror. Another has shown untapped courage and responsibility, learning to discipline and control our new family member. Another has overflowed with motherly affection for this animal but also learned that dogs require significant time and energy. (We remind her that human babies demand even more attention than puppies and SHE GETS IT NOW.)

What about me? I have learned a few things, too.

1) Sometimes us Realists need to give the Dreamers a chance. 🙂 Sometimes the details might not make sense but the dream is still valid and doable and a potential vessel of joy for our children. Sometimes we need to let go of the reigns for a minute and at least TRY. Maybe the scenario might not always work, but it might be more successful than we think! (And maybe don’t yell at your family or exude passive-aggression during the trial period.)

2) I married the right person. I have forgiven my husband for buying a puppy and he has forgiven me for acting like a lunatic.

3) I do like some animals. In fact, against all odds, I am even capable of adoring them. ❤️ (Well, sometimes. Mostly when they are tired. And not eating my kitchen chairs or digging WWII trenches on my property. 😉)

Hugs to all the other fur babies out there. Have a great week friends!

Parenting

This One Is For All The Mothers

May 6, 2021July 19, 2021by messykitchenministry3 Comments

This is for all the mothers out there who are wearing all the different hats- the lunch-packers, the hair stylists, the birthday party planners, clothing shoppers, chefs of the dinner table and in-home nutritionists and daily counselors. This is for the ones who are math tutors, tech supports, potty instructors, social media monitors, teen book reviewers, and costume creators. You are the healers of scrapes, presidents of fan clubs, drill sergeants of discipline and makers of magic. YOU ARE AMAZING.

This is for all the mothers who are managing all the little things- school schedules, mismatched socks, haircuts, doctor’s appointments, sports registration, orthodontia, classroom parties, daily hydration, birthday presents, laundry baskets, chore charts, winter gear, orange juice levels in the fridge, dust levels in the house, ingredients for meals and a sufficient paper towel inventory. You are the magnanimous multi-tasker for your entire family. WELL DONE.

This is for all the mothers who are experiencing the deep well of emotion- love, pride, exhaustion, elation, worry, amusement, frustration, joy, deep grief, pure happiness, shock, gratitude, disappointment, laughter or stress. You are experiencing the barometer of parenting and gauging the wind of change with each new day (or minute). MOTHERHOOD IS A LOT.

This is for all the mothers who are parenting in their own unique ways- young, older, single, married, widowed, adoptive or foster; and for the extra mothers parenting from unique vantage points- teachers, Aunties, grandmothers, church nursery workers, daycare providers, neighbors and social workers. Motherhood takes many different forms, but YOU ARE ALL APPRECIATED! (This weekend and always. ❤️)

This Mother’s Day is for ALL the mothers, because no two are alike and no two experiences are the same. Let’s rejoice in each other’s journeys. Let’s be each other’s biggest fans. Let’s celebrate the momentous mission of Motherhood together!

This weekend I wish you many hugs, some quiet moments of grateful reflection and a space to relax without any laundry to fold. Cheers to you!! 🙂

Military

Celebrating Military Kids and Leaving the Stereotypes Behind

Featuredby messykitchenministry2 Comments

Each year, April is acknowledged as the Month of the Military Child and my heart immediately opens wide to celebrate this amazing segment of our population. Statistics say that almost one million kids live within the military community and their resiliency and perseverance inspire me. But I didn’t always feel that way.

As I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs, I jumped into this military community with zero information and I didn’t even care. After dating my husband long-distance for four years, he could have told he was moving to Mars and I would have said “I’m coming with you!!” But admittedly, as I entered the military world I held to false stereotypes and negative assumptions of the kids around me, mostly because their lifestyles were so foreign to my own childhood experience.

I assumed the military life must (obviously) be too difficult for a child. Moving houses and cities? Forced to leave friends? Being the new kids at school? HORRIBLE!! I assumed that by the time our future children were in school, we would need to quit this Navy thing and return to our hometowns to give them a “normal” childhood, like the ones gifted to my husband and me. I assumed this life would be nothing but hardship and heartbreak and no one dreams of burdening innocent children with such things.

But then I started noticing the military kids around me, especially the teenagers. I started noticing that they were happy, well-rounded, confident kids. I noticed that they had very close relationships with their families, special bonds with their military friends and ways of looking at the world that were different than I thought. (Sure, there were kids who struggled but was it more than the civilian world? Not noticeably.) My heart began to slowly expand…

“Maybe the military might not ruin them…”

“Maybe we could do this a little bit longer if our kids seem okay…”

“Maybe the military might allow them to…thrive?”

MIND BLOWN. Is it even possible, I thought? To spend twenty years moving your kids around and have them still be functional beings? I watched even more closely. We moved to Europe and I saw kids learning to speak different languages, befriending kids from other nations and adapting to the personalities of different adults and cultures. Some kids had bounced from country to country, spending ten years abroad and accumulating a lifetime of experiences that many American adults never acquire. Back in the U.S., I saw kids bouncing from coast to coast and adapting to a wide array of situations. I saw kids move from the city and adapt to small town life. I saw kids from the countryside move to Washington DC and adapt to noise and traffic and fast-paced expectations. Military kids have lived east, west, north and south and are able to account for American culture in very mature, intelligent ways.

I have seen kids walk confidently into new schools, conquer the first dreadful day, find friends and prove to themselves that they can do difficult things. (Such an experience would have probably emotionally unhinged me as a child.) I marvel at the confidence of my own children who have moved many times and developed unique social skills and subtle resiliency that I wasn’t forced to learn until I was an adult, moving away from my hometown for the very first time. As my oldest looks towards college I see a fearless soul who can intelligently debate east and west coasts, who knows that family is always just a plane ride away, and who knows that the world is her oyster and she is untethered and free to go where she chooses. Because she has already gone so many places before.

Now please listen to me… I don’t mean to paint an overly rosy picture of this military life and gloss over the immense challenges. Do some military kids suffer from anxiety and depression? Yes. Do some military kids find the lifestyle difficult to navigate? Of course (as do many adults). Do some families decide that the military is causing too much stress for their children? Absolutely. There are times when the government simply asks too much of these young people and families must pivot. I’ve seen and heard of brilliant military members exit the community at the pinnacle of their careers to prioritize their children’s needs. I stand and applaud these parents!

I’ve seen children parted from a parent for a solid year and the world seemed upside down, wrong and unnatural. I’ve seen Navy families deploy three times in three years. My own household has seen its fair share of excruciating goodbyes and we know more tears loom in our future. But when all is said and done, I refuse to accept the stereotype that all military children are struggling beyond their emotional capabilities. It’s just not what I’ve witnessed. I’ve seen too many success stories to stamp military kids with that label!

What contributes to the success of these special people? I’ve thought about it over the years and the answer is obviously unique to each family. But I would offer one idea here: the formation of character, forged through trial and fire. We Gen X-ers are often accused of coddling our children and it’s difficult to deny (*cough, cough* participation trophies). We desire to produce character and perseverance in our kids but we have fallen prey to the narrative that discomfort is bad and happiness is always good. We move mountains to protect our children from challenging situations but then wonder why they don’t exhibit confidence. We take away the opportunities for emotional growth but then wonder why they are immature.

The truth is that some characteristics cannot be academically taught, but must be organically grown and experienced- like resiliency, bravery, perseverance and fortitude. Military children grow in character every day as they face the smaller and larger challenges confronting them. Navigating through friendships, change, discomfort and sacrifice forces them to dig deep, plant strong emotional roots and ground themselves in ways beyond their years. I’ve seen it again and again. They have climbed mountains, conquered the steep terrain (even if they fell down a few times) and proven that they are overcomers. And that’s why my heart will be forever touched by this population. ❤️

So as we celebrate the Month of the Military Child, let’s take a minute to honor these special kids who serve our nation in such a unique way. Let’s give them a loud round of applause because I think we can all agree that THEY DESERVE IT. 🙌 🙌 🙌 🇺🇸

Uncategorized

Hey America, can we take a deep breath?

Featuredby messykitchenministry3 Comments

Hey friends. Can we talk for a minute? I’ve debated for weeks about whether this topic is worth approaching because I am a peacemaker who hates confrontation…but I think it is time for a frank conversation. Can you keep an open mind and not burn down my house after you read it? Thanks. (If you cannot commit to this agreement, please ignore this post and go to Pinterest.com to look at fall decor and chocolate desserts.)

Ready? Ok.

2020 is a year of heavy anxiety. We all feel it for fifty reasons. We are TENSE. WOUND-UP. STRESSED. EMOTIONAL. We are spring coils taut with tension, waiting to snap at any moment. This year we have experienced the range of feelings- shock, sadness, anger, despair, and desperation- down to the marrow of our bones. We are right to strongly feel these sentiments because America is confronting some VERY SERIOUS issues. Adding a presidential election to this year is like placing a huge rotten cherry on top of the worst sundae in the century. Sooo, it’s not a surprise that our political conversations are also emotional…but I worry that America is losing its mind over this election. I worry that we have lost all rational thought as we lay claim to the hills upon which we want to die and the issues we so avidly support.

Indeed, there are many important issues that deserve adequate attention, debate, discussion and consideration. We need to think very seriously about the direction in which we prefer America to go in the next four years! However, I worry that our enthusiasm has dangerously evolved into sheer panic as election day looms and we are all boarding our emotional rollercoasters, careening towards a gigantic crash and upheaval on November 3^rd. Is it too late to slow down? Is it too late to change course, firmly grip our emotions and retreat into a state of reason? It seems to me like we all need a timeout to regroup on the sidelines. Can we collectively take a long, deep breath and talk about this for a minute?

I am worried that our emotions are overriding our good sense. I see people yelling at their own family members who they love. I see people sulking in anger and avoiding their closest friends because they are frustrated about being unable to secure them as political allies. I see friends judging people harshly for having varied opinions about issues and man oh man… that is very difficult to watch! Have we lost all civility in public discourse? Have we lost the ability to calmly and rationally debate issues and then agree to disagree? Can we thoughtfully debate issues then hug each other goodbye? Again, is it possible to take a step back and return to reason? If you love your family and your friends, don’t let politics get in the way of your relationships. It’s just not worth it!!

Additionally, I am grieved to see many friends throwing away rational thought and broadcasting large stereotypes, especially into cyberspace. People are categorizing the other side as a small, uneducated band of misfits, or worse “racists” or “evil communists.” Have we forgotten 2016? Voters split the ballots 48% to 46%! When people say “those Trump voters do this” or “those liberals do that”, they are speaking of a huge percentage of our population! Such numbers cannot be confined to a small box; 60 million people cannot possibly be voting for one presidential candidate for the exact same reason. And they are definitely not all “haters” or “moochers”.

Have we forgotten the size and scope of the United States?? South Dakota is not the same as Washington DC.; California is not the same as Alabama. Our cultural variety immediately precludes agreement at the polls so let’s stop advertising generalizations and return to a sensible playing field. The plain, rational truth is that there are lovely, intelligent people voting Republican, and lovely, intelligent people voting Democrat for very legitimate, educated reasons. PERIOD. If you do not know a brilliant, articulate person on the other side, then your bubble is too small. Sorry to be blunt, but it’s true.

I am also worried that our emotions are hindering us from thoughtful debate. Are you not curious why 60 million people voted differently than you in 2016? Or is anger and resentment standing in your way? Is it not interesting that your neighbor has completely different passions than you? Where did those passions originate? Have you ever sat down and calmly asked her about her experiences that led her to where she sits? Why not? The world is a big place full of fascinating people and if we only sit in our bubble, listening to the same voices promoting our same issues, we miss all the colors around us. Let’s escape from the black and white! It doesn’t mean we need to change our opinions, but maybe, just maybe, we can understand what it’s like to walk in another’s shoes. Maybe, just maybe, we can truly grasp that everyone has their own unique experiences that lead them to vote a certain way. Such thoughtful conversations have the power to diffuse the anger, build more understanding and remind us that we are all humans with valid opinions.

Finally (although not exhaustively), I am worried our emotion and fear are overshadowing our visions and hope for the future. All of us have been tempted and seduced by fear this year. Myself included. It’s hard not to fear for our health and the future and the state of our nation in 2020. In this political season, it’s also difficult not to feel emotional and afraid as we worry about our way of life being under attack, should the other candidate win. News flash: both sides are carrying this weight, this worry that the other side will take away their rights. Can we take a quiet moment to consider this equivalent anxiety? (Again, might this yield more understanding between us?)

Maybe people will disagree with me, but I think our fear and worry over November 3^rd is blinding and distracting us to the possibilities beyond that day. If our candidate loses, does it mean we can no longer fight for our causes? Do we throw in the towel, eat a gallon of ice cream and bury our hopes and dreams? NO! (Do we rant incessantly on social media, burn buildings downtown or start a neighborhood militia? Also NO.)

What if we funnel our emotion into action? What if we start thinking of ways to fight for our causes, regardless of who wins the presidency? Could that plan alleviate some of the fear of election day and bring down our blood pressure? For example:

Are you pro-life? You can volunteer at a pregnancy center, become a foster parent or give to adoption organizations.

Are you concerned about climate change? You can donate to environmental organizations and seriously analyze your own carbon footprints.

Are you advocating for immigrants, racial justice, gender rights, education? You can bring it down to your city, your community and your neighborhood. You can get involved. You can love your neighbor as yourself and extend kindness and influence to those on the sidelines. We don’t need a specific president or a specific party to do everything! Whether our side wins or loses, we always have hands and feet and wallets to fight for our causes. Our work goes far beyond November and that should shine a ray of hope into our future. Hope casts out fear and actions can help us override our weary emotions. Let’s commit to this.

(On a sidenote, are you a follower of Christ? If so, let me gently remind you that we don’t need to live in a state of fear or anxiety! We can rest in the truth that the Almighty God is ever-present in our lives and in the midst of this chaos! He came to bring you PEACE, but are you claiming it??*)

I truly believe we can still be a United States on November 4^th, but only if we roll up our sleeves, grab the hands of our neighbor and continue the calling placed before us. Our nation is better than this divisiveness, this judgement, this bitterness and anger. We are better than our emotional rants and daggers thrown over the fence. We are a nation that can accomplish big tasks and live in freedom with different cultures, religions and opinions… but that only works if people continue trying to live in peace. It only works if you and I can overcome our differences, see the colors around us and continue marching forward. Can we do this? Can we set aside our raw emotion and sow peace in our circles of influence? Can we focus on understanding and compassion, rather than anger and resentment? Pretty please????

Election Day is coming. Let’s commit to acting like civil adults, regardless of the results. And, hey, if we can’t say anything nice in the end, Pinterest is always ready to welcome us back with more chocolate desserts and impossible crafts. Godspeed to us all!! 🇺🇸

* “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” – John 14:27

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