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Flames and Ashes: Thoughts on the Church

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment on Flames and Ashes: Thoughts on the Church
Flames and Ashes: Thoughts on the Church

Recently, our family broke ground on a major house renovation. As we think about the space and feel of our future home, we are considering the entryway and the hall behind it. While hallways aren’t the most important spaces in a house, they do connect everything and can determine the “vibe,” as my teens would say. Is it light and airy? Welcoming? Or dark and dingy? Do we need to add more light? Is the floor so loud that it will interrupt work in the nearby rooms? Or can we make this a quiet and peaceful thoroughfare? 

As I ponder the role of the hallway (and cringe daily at the politics in the news), I am reminded of a quote by the great philosopher C.S. Lewis about the world of Christianity. He describes theology and the Christian faith as “a hall out of which doors open into several rooms.” Maybe the door to the Catholic Church is big and grand and opens into a centuries-old, echoing sanctuary. Maybe the door to the small town non-denominational church is mundane, opening to the smell of wood and old carpet and a piano in the corner. All of them connected by the main thoroughfare, the Big “Capital C” Church, as we say in the Protestant world. It’s the church at-large, the grand house of our faith which can be seen from far away.  

Let me say here that The Big Church should not be confused with the small church, especially as we hear loud Christians in the media and political realm. My congregation of twenty years is truly lovely. People have hearts of gold there- feeding the homeless, adopting children, fixing cars for people on low incomes, becoming foster parents, loving their neighbors and showering more love on my family than we deserve. I can’t think of a single sermon that addressed anything political- no talk of elections, abortion, the pride movement, whatever key word is causing current divisions in our country. We have been knee-deep in the Bible, trying to emulate the humanity of Christ. 

But in the Big Church, the hallway of C.S. Lewis’ metaphor, the entry point to Christianity, chaos has erupted and I have sat here over the past few years (or decade?) watching embers turn into flames. While my “room” was busy worshiping and studying, I could hear the shouts in the Hallway- “Abortion! Woke! Take back the nation!” If I am honest, so many of us didn’t know what to do with these loud voices, but the decibel level in the Hallway has now reached such a roar that it cannot be ignored. The flames are singeing us, destroying the reputation of our faith, hurting our friends and causing so many to flee from the Christian world entirely. 

This year…

I learned that Christians attended our local Pride rally holding signs that said “You are going to hell!” 

I witnessed numerous national leaders proclaim their “Christian faith” but then mock and humiliate their opponents without shame.

I watched as Christians laughed at federal workers who lost their jobs in the tornado of DOGE.

I cringed when Christians cheered the passing of a bill that defunded important humanitarian aid and reduced federal programs that fed women and children.

I gasped in horror as a senior government official released a video of himself reciting The Lord’s Prayer to a sequence of bombing war videos.

WHAT. IN. THE. WORLD. IS. HAPPENING?? I am horrified.  

My first question is: where on Earth did the fruits of the Spirit go?? For those of us studying the Bible we know that if we are living with the Holy Spirit, the fruits of our lives shall be “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self- control.” (Galatians 5:22-23) Such traits will overflow OUT of us because of the abundance IN us. Good fruit grows from healthy trees. If we are not exhibiting those qualities in our daily interactions, internet comments and conversations with our neighbors then we are failing society and ourselves. We are failing to live a life rooted in God (but rather resembling a diseased tree in Matthew 7:17) and we are representing Christ so poorly that it borders on blasphemy. (Yes, I think it is THAT bad.) 

Moreover, if our national leaders (aligning themselves with the Big Church) proclaim to be Christians but show no fruits of the Spirit, their faith is ingenuine and their words are hollow. “If we speak… but do not have love, [we are] only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.” (1 Cor 13:1) The clanging sounds in the Hallway are hurting my ears and grieving my soul.  

I know, I know. Some Christians reading this might be thinking “But the government was taking away our rights! We must fight back for our religious freedom! We must return to our Christian heritage!” But is that what Jesus told us to do? Did He spend his 32 years on Earth fighting against the injustices from Rome? NO. His ministry was whole-heartedly devoted to freeing people from their own bondage and reorienting their hearts towards the Father. (And by the way, in Mark 10:17-22, when the rich, young ruler didn’t accept Jesus’ invitation to join him, the crowd did not mock him but let him walk away unhindered. Let us consider that example.)

So, I ask the next question to my fellow believers- are we following Jesus’ example or are we monumentally distracted by the temptation of political power?

“Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed [Jesus] all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ‘All this I will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me.’” (Matthew 4:8-9) This sounds eerily similar to a speech someone gave to a Christian audience in 2016. The line was cast and the Big Church bit.  

Listen- if we were truly “taking back the country” with humility and love then I would jump aboard that train in a second. The world feels scary and sad and absolutely needs the hope and compassion that Jesus so readily offers. But forcing the “Christian world view” onto people with arrogance, spite and the gentleness of a porcupine comes with too great a cost (in my humble opinion). Is it “winning” if we tarnish our name, our reputation and the trust of society? “What good will it be for [a nation/church] to gain the whole world, yet forfeit [its] soul?” (Matthew 16:26)

When a friend calls me crying, asking why Christians hate her so much, it doesn’t feel like winning.

When all people hear is that the church is against abortion, gay marriage and transgender kids, rather than a beacon of hope and love, it doesn’t feel like winning. 

When I hear leaders on TV praising God and then brushing off demeaning, sexist, anti-Semitic jokes, it feels like they are throwing feces on the holy altar. 

When friend after friend confesses to me that they don’t understand how a faith group who fights for the ten commandments to be posted in every square and classroom can turn around and hero-worship an undeniably, immoral man, it all feels like such a huge, huge loss. The confusion is real and has burned our witness to ashes.

Recently, I have stood at the front door of the House of God, seeing people in need of hope and love and beckoning them to join me inside, but all they can see are the smoke and flames and signs behind me in the Hallway. “No, really,” I say. “It’s not like that! Come into my Room and you will see!” But they look at me like I am crazy and start backing away. Why would they accept my invitation when the building looks and feels so unsafe? *sigh* 

To my Christian friends- Can we please reconsider how we interact with the world?? Instead of forcing ourselves on America, can we return to Jesus’ example of bringing hope and light to our families and communities? Are we reminding our friends that they are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) and that God will “never leave [them] nor forsake [them]”? (Deuteronomy 31:8) We should be. Can we say “only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs”? (Ephesians 4:29) Let us reconsider our social media posts and put aside our politics (Titus 3), “love our enemies” (Matthew 5:43), “turn the other cheek” (Matthew 5:38-42), “be generous” (1 John 3:17-18), and “walk in love” (Ephesians 5:1-2) because that is what the Bible tells us to do. “He has shown you what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

To everyone else-  can I say something to you right now?—-> JESUS LOVES YOU WITH AN EVERLASTING LOVE. “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so is his love” (Psalm 103:11) “Neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:39) Please know that GOD IS GOD, He is not any of these humans. He never mocks or humiliates, He never wishes you ill because He is a Father who cares about you. “If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? You wouldn’t think of such a thing… So don’t you think the God who created you in love will be even better?” (Matthew 7:7-11 The Message) Please do not judge Him by the people yelling terrible things in the Christian Hallway. Do not judge Him by the arsonists holding those awful signs or proclaiming that women should no longer vote. They are gongs and cymbals and they do not speak for me and the others in my Room. 

—–> You are LOVED and VALUED and WORTHY and WELCOME. <—-

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” – Jesus,  Matthew 11:28 

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Meanwhile, what does one do when the entryway to the house is dark and uninviting? We might gather our family together and think of ways to add light. We might pool our resources and strength to knock down walls or install new windows. And while the work commences, we may install a ramp to a side door, inviting our friends into a different entrance.

So let the construction begin. Consider the side door now open. Please come. ❤️

“A lamp gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” – Matthew 5:14-16

Military

The End of the Watch: Military Retirement

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment on The End of the Watch: Military Retirement
The End of the Watch: Military Retirement

[Chapter One]

At the age of 17, I congratulated my boyfriend on his acceptance to the United States Naval Academy. “When do you leave?” I asked. And the clock began to tick, a figurative wristwatch attaching itself to me. 

Years later, our wedded bliss begins with the cadence of time…

How many months until you report to flight school? 

How many months before you get your aviator wings?

How long will we live here?

We constantly look at the calendar, the time, the projection of years.

When do you leave for deployment?

How long will you be gone?

When do you go on the next detachment?

When will your new orders come out?

But it doesn’t seem strange, this ever-present, incessant ticking, it’s just our life. In our military community, conversations often begin with “How long have you been stationed here? When will you move again?” Our lives model a revolving door, watching the hands of time go around and around as our spouses take turns leaving, deploying, “standing the watch”. And we spouses stand the watch, too, proudly waiting for them to come home.

As the years go by, the questions start to change…

How many more years does he owe?

Is this his last tour?

When can he retire?

And then I feel the lurch of the clock, the hiccup in the wheel of time. Thirty years have passed since that teenager asked the first question and the time begins to slow down. I still hear the ticking, but the scenes play in slow motion as our brains race to capture every moment and every event before the sand runs out.

Statements burst forth, paperwork starts to be processed and “How many days until retirement?” becomes the last marker of Navy time. Invitations fly through the mail, family and friends returning with them like boomerangs. One final time, my husband dons his flight gear and soars into the clouds, taxiing through a rainbow of water upon his return to earth. Champagne is poured and the ceremony planned. 

The calendar flips and the day of his retirement dawns. Speeches resound, flags are lovingly handled, a friend harnesses his deep voice and bellows throughout the hangar:

“For twenty-six years

This sailor has stood the watch

While some of us were in our bunks at night

This sailor stood the watch

While some of us were in school learning our trade

This shipmate stood the watch

Yes.. even before some of us were born into this world

This shipmate stood the watch

In those years when the storm clouds of war were seen brewing on the horizon of history

This shipmate stood the watch

Many times he would cast an eye ashore and see his family standing there

Needing his guidance and help

Needing that hand to hold during those hard times

But he still stood the watch

He stood the watch for twenty-six years

He stood the watch so that we, our families and our fellow countrymen could sleep soundly in safety,

Each and every night

Knowing that a sailor stood the watch

Today we are here to say
‘Shipmate… the watch stands relieved’

Relieved by those You have trained, Guided, and Led

Shipmate, you stand relieved.. we have the watch.”

I look at my husband on stage standing proudly in his uniform, my forehead straining against the emotion inside me. Where did the time go?? Memories flood my mind.

But then I am walking towards the stage, taking his arm, listening for the bells and “departing the ship” for the last time. The jets roar overhead as the end of the red carpet draws near, the final steps of our Navy journey. We stop at the finish line and cross over it together as his watch stands relieved. And so does mine.

Our family huddles in the corner, a core memory made. But then we pull away, the world shifts and my body registers a change. I feel my wristband loosen and hear my own watch clamoring to the floor, the time frozen in place. My brain searches for the rhythm that has always drummed in the background of my thoughts, but it’s no longer there. The ticking has stopped. 

And for the first time in my adult life…all I hear is a beautiful silence.

[Cue Chapter Two]

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Military

A Carrier Deployment is… so many things.

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments on A Carrier Deployment is… so many things.
A Carrier Deployment is… so many things.

It’s spending six months counting down to Departure-Day. 

It’s saying hello and goodbye over and over and “Please don’t send me photos of your steak dinner in Fallon.”

It’s the pit in your stomach as the green sea bags appear in your bedroom and the packing begins and “Why do they still smell like jet fuel??”

It’s the last-minute paperwork, house chores, oil changes and hard conversations.

It’s the Last Supper and “Anything you want to eat before you go?”

It’s going to bed that night with your head spinning, the inevitable happening tomorrow and wondering how on earth you will handle it. 

It’s the next morning, the stomach hurting, the knees starting to shake as you drive to the base.

It’s pulling into the hangar parking lot and thinking “Holy crap, this is actually happening!!”

It’s a final hug, the tears coming, the heartbreak of watching the kids say goodbye. 

It’s him walking into the hangar and you driving away, a silent prayer for safety on your lips. 

It’s questioning all your life choices and “Why on earth are we still doing this???”

The next day…it’s the new normal as your family marches onward.

It’s doing a countdown paper chain but then taking it down because “This is waaaaay too long” and unhealthy for your mental state.

It’s having the hard conversations with your kids, trying to squelch their anxiety about Dad being gone, assuring them of his safety.

It’s also announcing “There’s a new sheriff in town so listen up…”

It’s the passing of weeks and months and new-found independence.

It’s learning how to use a lawn mower, cleaning out the rain gutters and “Let me quickly check the tire pressure.”

It’s paying all the bills, scheduling all the repairs and unclogging a sink.

It’s buying frivolous things on Amazon because mail is fun and you need endorphins.

It’s clean towels pushed over to his side of the bed and sleeping multiple nights next to your Laundry Husband. 

It’s watching whatever you want on the television because the remote heeds only to your will and “So what if I want to watch Twilight??”

It’s the occasional phone call from the ship and broken phone conversations of “What-uh-ih-on-ei?” 

It’s sitting alone in church.

It’s an entire soccer season with just you on the sidelines.

It’s hard days solo-parenting, wondering how you can possibly give your kids all the care they need. 

It’s balancing Fun-Mom with I’m-The-Only-One-Around-To-Discipline-You Mom

It’s Mary Poppins in the morning and Miss Hannigan at night.

It’s precious nights of snuggling on the couch, reading at bedtime and watching Disney movies.

It’s “What do you want for dinner- scrambled eggs or meatballs?”

It’s tears in your eyes as you proudly watch your resilient kids doing a HARD THING.

It’s Spring and Summer passing without him here.

It’s missing his presence and his joy and all the traits that made you want to be with him in the first place. 

It’s watching the front lawn slowly die but “I’m trying to keep children alive so someone else can fix that later.” 

It’s seeking out time with other military spouses because “You guys are the only ones who get this!!”

It’s hearing the national anthem and feeling more patriotic than usual.

It’s flipping the calendar and saying “Kids!! He’s home NEXT month!!”

It’s the Navy saying “Just kidding! We changed schedules! Add thirty more days!” 

It’s asking and checking and finally putting up the paper chain for the final weeks.

It’s only two more weeks of putting out the trash bins.

It’s “Hurry, kids, take out your junk from Dad’s car before he gets home!!”

It’s buying new makeup because you feel a little nervous.

It’s shopping for groceries and re-buying the foods that he enjoys.

It’s putting flags in the front yard, hanging up a welcome sign and shouting to the world that “WE HAVE DONE SOMETHING BIG HERE!!”

It’s waking up that morning with a burst of adrenaline. 

It’s driving to the base and thinking “It’s happening!!!”

It’s standing around the hangar, listening for timely updates, knowing you have only minutes left before the deployment is done. 

It’s watching all the families around you, honored to be in the company of such strong people.

It’s someone announcing “10 minutes out!!” and everyone hurrying outside to intently watch the horizon.

It’s someone shouting “They are coming! They are coming! Do you see them??”

It’s a slow-moving flock of jets, silently growing closer and closer. 

It’s the families jumping and cheering as the formation flies overhead and the deafening sound hits your ears. 

It’s tears in your eyes and relief in your shoulders, thinking “WE. DID. IT.”

It’s waiting around while the jets circle and land, one by one.

It’s the little kids saying “Why does this part take sooooo long??”

It’s the canopies opening and all the men and women climbing down from the jets and taking off their gear.

It’s the families waiting with anticipation, excitement crackling in the air. 

It’s the line of flight suits forming at the end of the tarmac, the palpable tension in the crowd as we are told to hold the line.

It’s them walking closer and closer and someone finally shouting “Run!!” and every kid racing like their lives depend on it, into the arms of their moms and dads. 

It’s hugging him and thinking “He’s here. He’s real. We are all together. Thank you, Jesus.”

It’s feeling like the world is suddenly righted and everything is going to be okay.

It’s shoulders down and then shoulders back and the hint of pride that says “I handled that LIKE A BOSS.”

It’s knowing that our nation called and we answered and gave it everything we had… and now it’s time to go home. ❤️

…

…

[“Are you safe to drive? It’s been months since you were in a car…are you sure I shouldn’t drive home? Move over…”]

Military

Riding the Train of Resentment: a decision for military spouses

Featuredby messykitchenministryLeave a Comment on Riding the Train of Resentment: a decision for military spouses
Riding the Train of Resentment: a decision for military spouses

To the Resentful Navy Spouse-

I see you online, commenting to other spouses about your gripes with Big Navy. I sense the acidic tone in your voice as you lament the pain of moving again and “putting [your spouse’s] career first”. I cringe at your words and feel a bit heartbroken for your state because I remember feeling that way, too. It’s hard. 

When I first married the Navy, oops, I mean my husband, we moved three times in those two years, effectively shredding my resume before the ink had a chance to dry. It hurt. Add in a junior naval aviator who mentioned to me at a dinner party that I shouldn’t complain about my career “because jet pilots spend their entire lives dreaming of their jobs and graphic designers do not” and I almost went to prison for first degree murder. 

Years later, I remember being a young mother with baby vomit pooled in the center of my bra looking at photos of my deployed husband’s port call in the tropics. Or when I saw a photo of his steak dinner in Key West while I was eating my toddler’s cold, leftover macaroni and cheese from a plastic Little Mermaid plate. “Must be nice to be on vacation…” I grumbled as I changed another diaper. Bitterness found me ready and willing to jump aboard. 

As many spouses of junior officers do, I rode that steam engine for a number of years until we decided together to stay in the Navy past my husband’s original commitment. We knew that we both had more to give our country so I disembarked from the Train of Resentment and proceeded on a new route with a new attitude. Travel photos ceased, my husband’s sea-pay was reclassified as “Babysitter Money” and prestigious Navy jobs were declined so our family could remain planted in the same soil for a while. Gratefulness found its way into my heart. 

And I hope it can find its way to your heart, too.

Hear me out on this. I know that this Navy life is hard and sometimes you just need to call up a good friend and commiserate for a little while. I frequently do this, even after twenty-five years. But if you are bogged down in daily resentment or bitterness, can I offer you some advice?

  1. This military journey works much better if you consider yourself part of a team, rather than being a bystander blindly following the whims of your spouse’s career. Because the Navy is so all-encompassing, you need to find a way to make it your own, too. Find your silver lining, your own purpose in it. How can you set goals as a couple to make this work for BOTH of you?
  2. Talk to your spouse and state explicitly what is gnawing at your peace. Is it the separation? The overwhelming task of single parenting? The shredding of your resume and lack of career advancements? The stupidly gorgeous photos blowing up your phone? Write it, share it, talk about it, over and over.
  3. If those conversations leave you at an impasse and you can’t see eye to eye, I highly recommend Militaryonesource.com for free personal and/or marital counseling. It’s one simple phone call. This is your marriage here; do not wait to seek professional help.
  4. MEANWHILE… I’ve said it before and I will say it again—–> do not blame your spouse when he/she is gone. YES, the schedule will make you insane but it isn’t your spouse’s fault. People in much higher pay grades control the movement of ships & aircrew and world events can alter the plan in a single day. Remember that this is the Navy, sailors deploy, and no amount of complaining or blaming will ever change that mission. (See A Letter to my Younger Self when my husband left for the ship when I had a toddler and the stomach flu. Fun times.) 
  5. Try, try, try to feel empathy for your spouse, rather than resentment. Can you put yourself in your spouse’s shoes and think about those stressful schedules and heartbreaking goodbyes? How would you react if you had to leave your children for six months? If you were locked in a giant metal container for months on end, with all your clothes and linens smelling of jet fuel, wouldn’t you enthusiastically jump at the chance for a gulp of fresh air on the beach? Give them some grace. If they decide to enjoy a pina colada on the beach, LET THEM. (Then go to Target and buy a pina colada mix for yourself.)
  6. If the bitterness persists and peace cannot be found… I’m going to say it…perhaps your time in the military is done. Twenty years of service is not for everyone and not required. It works wonderfully for some families but not well for others, so don’t force it. Serving five years, eight years, ten years is a noble act and our country is grateful, but it’s okay to choose a less intense environment and ride off into the Maverick sunset. The Navy is temporary but your marriage should be for the rest of your life. 

I truly believe that military service can offer your family the experience of a lifetime if your heart is open and your communication is strong. It can be a wonderfully rich journey if you choose an attitude of gratefulness…but only you can decide to do it. 

Wherever you land, know that you are SEEN and you are HEARD by so many of us out here. We get it. We understand the struggle. And we love pina coladas, too, so don’t be afraid to reach out when you need a listening ear, 

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Original photo by @felipepelaquim on Unsplash

Parenting

The Parenting Hourglass & thoughts about graduation

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment on The Parenting Hourglass & thoughts about graduation
The Parenting Hourglass & thoughts about graduation

Nothing lights a bigger fire under us than a short timeline…and nothing makes us more lackadaisical than infinite hours. Type B persons like myself can procrastinate, plan to do things “later”, postpone projects to next week, but if you tell me that guests are arriving in thirty minutes, I can accomplish an amazing amount of deep cleaning in half an hour. Sometimes we just need a little pressure to make every minute count! It’s why people can travel to four countries on one vacation but never visit the tourist spots in their own hometowns. It’s why we scurry to go on dates with our spouses before they deploy, then wonder why we did not do it on a regular basis. We need a flipped hourglass to give us perspective.

I have realized that the same rule applies to parenting, too. I always heard older mothers telling me to treasure time with my kids “because it passes so quickly.” But I remember looking at my screaming two year-old who, God willing, would live with me another sixteen years until adulthood and the 5,840 days looming ahead of us seemed quite sufficient. The hourglass of sand looked like a semi-truck that would bury me alive if it ever tipped over. Plenty of time!

The truth is- even if we consciously try to carpe the diem it’s almost impossible to cherish all the little moments with our children because they are often not extraordinary. We cook, change diapers, shop for groceries, sit at the kitchen table, watch television in the living room, etc. Later, we pack lunches, drive kids to school and stand watch on the side of the soccer field. While I always felt grateful for the life given to me, I never spent three hours a day writing in a gratitude journal. Life needed to be tackled and I was on the offensive! And besides, forever loomed in front of us…or so it seemed… until the maternal prophecies shone true. 

Surely and quietly, our days and years passed until one morning I looked up to see that the semi-truck of time had diminished to a small Tonka truck sitting on the coffee table. After that, a matchbox car, then a little hourglass timer you might find in a game of Taboo or Trivial Pursuit. And the sand was falling quickly. A fire lit under me and it was screaming “Cherish it all ‘because it passes so quickly’!!” And now I am, every single day, because seasons don’t last forever, especially in parenting.

As my oldest prepares to graduate high school and leave for college this summer, I find myself alert and ready to make every minute count. There is no dawdling or procrastination, it is short term syndrome in the BEST way. Now, sitting at the kitchen table or watching television with all my kids in the same room brings me tremendous joy. Shopping and running to Costco take on special meaning as we complete the chores together. One of my kids is kicking the ball for the last time, another one nears the final curtain call on her dance performances. And as our family hourglass runs dangerously low, I smile with a grateful heart knowing that our 5,840+ days together were a true TREASURE. The mundane turned out to be extraordinary after all. 

So, in these final moments before the last grain of sand falls to the bottom of the glass, we stand on the sidelines with our hearts racing and our emotions high. All the years of joy and heartache and exhaustion and exhilaration are coming around the bend, racing towards Graduation Day and the crowd is screaming and we are jumping up and down (and crying at the same time) shouting “Go! Go! Go!” but wanting to yell “Stay! Stay! Stay!” My kid is smiling her beautiful smile and running full speed with her list of dreams in hand and our hearts are bursting with pride and thanksgiving for the last lap of an amazing race. “Only seconds left on the hourglass!!” we yell. “Make it count!!”

And as the tears stream down my face, I look past the finish line and see a shape vaguely forming in the fog. It’s big. I don’t recognize it. Looking closer I realize it’s another hourglass- larger, broader, a different color than the first one- but BEAUTIFUL. It sits, ready and waiting to be turned over, another semi-truck of time gifted to us. So with grateful smiles, my family joins hands with each other, walks slowly towards the glass cylinder and grabs the shiny, new handle.

“Flip it over” I say. “Let’s get started.”

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Hugs to all the parents out there who are cheering (and crying) for their graduates. We are in this together,

Military

Glittering Kindness: the way of the military spouse

Featuredby messykitchenministry2 Comments on Glittering Kindness: the way of the military spouse
Glittering Kindness: the way of the military spouse

There is something about the military moving process that makes me want to take a blow torch to all of my personal possessions. When two hundred boxes are casually dumped onto the ground like hotcakes I am tempted to recreate Burning Man and provide free fire and heat to our new neighbors. The entire process is massively overwhelming, especially when you are eight months pregnant, your husband is working and your other kid is lost somewhere in your hoarder’s den from Hades. 

It was at this precise moment of panic that my doorbell rang and my husband’s new boss’s wife greeted me on my front porch. Knowing the stress that accompanies a military move, she stopped by to say hello and give me a coffee cake! Say what?? GOD. BLESS. HER. I needed her smile and my baby needed that shot of sugar. (Thank you K.M!)

Weeks later she invited me to a Navy spouse group upon which the women surprised me with a baby shower. Women who had NEVER met me gave me a baby shower!! The gesture literally left me speechless and still makes me teary as I write this now. It was pure kindness on the part of these military spouses, going to the store and buying this “Kim” person some diapers for her baby. (Thank you, Argos!)

And yet, those were not the only times I benefited from the kindness of milspouses. 

They came to my house at 3:00am to watch my kids when I went into labor and needed to rush to the hospital. (Thank you L.D!)

They raised money to support deployment activities and then turned around and donated it to cancer research in honor of my family member who had recently died. (Thank you, Tophatters!)

Right after moving to Europe, they knew me for a solid five minutes before inviting me to spend three hours at their house washing laundry. (Thank you, D.M!)

They heard my sad words about moving to a new town and not knowing any kids to invite to my daughter’s birthday party… so they grabbed their own kids and a handful of presents and came over to celebrate with us. (Thank you C.J!)

And when my husband was deployed last year, they accompanied me to the Emergency Room and claimed to be my “next of kin” so they could overrule the COVID policy and stay in the waiting room with me. (Thank you T.S!)

Like family, they have brought me home-cooked meals, jump-started my car, babysat my children, shared their homes, sent me encouraging texts, loaned me cars, left secret gifts on my doorsteps and offered sage advice to young Kim who was new to the Navy life.

In short, these women all showed up and sprinkled kindness on me like glitter. And ya’ll know the lingering effects of glitter… once it’s on you, it never comes off. Even years later, I still see the remnants sparkling in my life.

As time progressed and my husband promoted to new positions, I saw more opportunities for me to care for the spouses around me. “Pass the glitter!” I thought, and made the phone call to the spouse who was having a terrible day; I took the banana bread to the one who was moving houses; I texted, encouraged, gathered, and babysat because so many spouses had done the same for me. It wasn’t a hardship, it just felt right. Like a giant water pitcher, I found that the more kindness that poured into me, the more it overflowed. (And lest you think I am bragging about my exemplary moral character or fishing for compliments, know that I can easily name twenty other women who have done the exact same thing. And they are all probably nicer than me, too, hahahaha.) 

Because military spouses have treated me like family (see above!), I think differently about some topics circulating around the water cooler these days. “Why are spouses ‘pressured’ to fill FRG boards and Ombudsman positions when they are busy with their private careers and families?” “Why are spouses not compensated for holding leadership positions amongst Navy families?” It seems that “unpaid labor” is the new, political key-word…but I think the discussion is short-sighted.

The conversation itself is valid. Spouses’ careers are much different than twenty or thirty years ago, therefore social dynamics and pressures ought to shift, too. However…the military community is not unique in asking for volunteers. All of our communities rely on a certain amount of “unpaid labor” to keep the wheels turning- public schools, parent teacher clubs, youth sports leagues, girl scouts, band boosters, church nurseries and local charities. We are all working together for the good of our families and communities, inside and outside of the military, aren’t we? Must we always be compensated for our time?

When I have the chance to talk to Navy spouses in leadership classes, I always say “Caring for military families is NOT a requirement in any way, shape or form. It is simply an opportunity.” There is no prescribed formula and no amount of hours specified. There should be no pressure to return to 1950. In my mind, it boils down to the simple spirit of kindness, the gratefulness in giving back, and the propensity of paying it forward. It’s the sprinkling of glitter… so why not cover people in it? Recipients will sparkle for years and you will know that you added something beautiful to the world… or at least made a deployment a little less painful for another person.

With this idea in mind, I think we are asking the wrong questions. (Do I need to quote John F. Kennedy here or can you recite it in your head?) 

What if this is an opportunity to turn around and lift up other spouses behind us?

What if this is a time when we can model resilience to the twenty two year-old spouse who has never before lived alone?

What if this is a chance to offer kind words to someone struggling through the difficulties of moving, deploying or changing jobs?

THESE ARE OPPORTUNITIES. We can take them or leave them, no one will be arrested by the police if he/she goes his/her own way and devotes time to other people and communities. (And we NEED people devoted to all corners of society.) But if military spouses have sprinkled you with care, if they have filled a void somewhere that should have been filled by your family who lived one thousand miles away… maybe it’s time to shower someone else with glittering kindness. Maybe it’s time to send a quick text that says “I know. I’ve been there. And it’s difficult.” Maybe it’s time to bring them a smile and a coffee cake to let them know they are not alone! Because on that particular day, it might make all the difference. 

….

I would love to hear which acts of kindness and #milspouseglitter are still sparkling in your life! Please share!

Original Photo by Mink Mingle on Unsplash

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Military

USS Deployment and my lessons learned

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments on USS Deployment and my lessons learned
USS Deployment and my lessons learned

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

Featuredby messykitchenministryLeave a Comment on Respecting Military Families on Social Media
Respecting Military Families on Social Media

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**

Military

Military Spouses and the Invisible Backpack: a conversation about stress

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments on Military Spouses and the Invisible Backpack: a conversation about stress
Military Spouses and the Invisible Backpack: a conversation about stress

“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]

Military

The Heartache of Moving and the pieces of us we leave behind

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment on The Heartache of Moving and the pieces of us we leave behind
The Heartache of Moving and the pieces of us we leave behind

[Note: These thoughts were written prior to COVID-19 which makes the heartbreak of a move even worse. Many of us have been robbed of the chance to say proper goodbyes, to thank our teachers and coaches, to hug our friends and visit our favorite haunts. We are cutting the strings without having the chance to tie them in tidy bows before we depart. Moving without that kind of closure is a psychological and emotional challenge for adults and kids alike. My family is already reeling from the disappointment. Surely it will become part of our story as we reflect on 2020 and the ways COVID-19 disassembled our lives. Godspeed to all of us as we navigate this upcoming PCS season.]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“I’ve put down a lot of little roots these two years,” Anne told the moon, “and when I’m pulled up they’re going to hurt a great deal.” – Anne of Green Gables/Avonlea

My husband and I have PCS-ed many times with the Navy. That’s military- speak for packing our Earthly belongings and moving to a new base. A Permanent Change of Station contrasts with Temporary Duty- TDY- a shorter separation from where you reside. Yet any military family can see the irony in the names. 🙂 We understand the need to differentiate the two statuses but truthfully we know we will never have a permanent station until we actually end our military service. And therein lies the challenge.

If I have learned anything in these moves, it is that we need to approach each PCS with expectation and not be afraid to pursue a new life. Our QUALITY of life depends on it, even if we know that ultimately our situation is not permanent.

When we drive into a new town, we try to jump into community as quick as possible for the sake of our kids and our family. We survey the ground, find our special spot, dig down deep and plant our roots. Military spouses like to say “Bloom where you are planted!” but the first step is CHOOSING to plant ourselves. Flowers cannot bloom without their roots attached… and people cannot thrive without community. So we take the plunge.

Like a plant finding life-giving minerals in the ground, we wrap ourselves around that which sustains us- people and places and experiences. We spread our thirsty vines across the city and create a new normal, knowing in the back of our minds that it will not last forever. Someday this tour will also end, but we need water immediately and extend our roots just a little further.

We introduce ourselves and meet new friends.

We find a church and community that feeds our soul.

We land jobs that we love.

We bond with our kids’ schools and community and sports teams. (We cheer for joy when we find cool kids with cool parents!)

We watch our children learn to walk in our “new” old house. We nurse them when they are sick and celebrate birthdays within those sturdy walls.

We learn the aisles of the grocery stores and the backroads around our neighborhood.

We spend hours strolling in the woods near our house.

If we are lucky, we have two years, maybe three years of the new normal. If we are unlucky it is less. But just when our lives seem full and settled, the government greets us with news shaped like an hourglass. What?? Already?? It’s time? Another PCS looms ahead, another impermanent change of station has been added to the calendar and in one sentence our world shifts…again.

Immediately half of our thoughts belong to another town. Do I know anyone who has lived there? Are the schools good? What about the rental market? Hand me my phone, I need to look at Zillow.

The sand begins to fall, the countdown begins and we act differently. Don’t fill the freezer with anything else! Don’t buy any candles, alcohol, Costco toilet paper or condiments! (For goodness’ sake, don’t buy any Worcestershire sauce because it takes two years to use that stuff.) We don’t subscribe to any new magazines. We ditch the summer camp flyers and school announcements for next year’s programs; none of that matters anymore. How on Earth do I transfer my kid’s school credits?? Hand me my phone again.

We clear away the superficial but eventually, the shift becomes more personal… and more difficult. We take a deep breath, stare down at the roots we so lovingly planted and nourished, and start to pull them up.

We pull ourselves out of the running for long-term projects. Maybe we could have earned a promotion at work but now we are leaving.

We pull ourselves back from new friends. We don’t have the time or emotional energy to invest in new people. It’s too late.

We pull ourselves back from our homes which we never finished decorating.

We pull ourselves away from the world, sometimes burrowing within our houses to cover our emotions and avoid the onslought of approaching goodbyes. Our hearts begin to ache.

The problem is that our hearts are now entangled in this new life and if you have ever tried to pull a plant out of the ground, you know there’s a certain ripping that occurs. We can handle the roots delicately and sweep away the surrounding, unattached dirt, but the tearing still happens when we aim to fully remove roots from their home.

We watch our kids hug their friends goodbye and shed their own tears and we think Are we ruining their lives??  We start saying goodbye to our own friends and silently think Will we ever see them again??  It hurts.

We sit in our empty house, listening to the echoes of footsteps. Is this really the end?  We close the door, hand the keys over to our landlord and start weeping in the driveway because Will we ever return to this house again??  Oh man, it hurts.

During the long walk to goodbye, we shed tears and feel broken-hearted because WE ARE. We are tearing away parts of our heart and leaving them with that person or place forever. It’s a painful process.

NOW STOP. Before we cry ourselves to sleep or eat a gallon of ice cream at the mere thought of relocating, let me tell you this: I’ve learned to see blessings in it all. Stepping back and seeing the bigger picture gives us a beautiful vantage point.

Even though the uprooting hurts, the pain is a blessing because it tells us that our heart and roots bonded with something or someone. Ripping ourselves away never feels good, but that doesn’t mean it is NOT good. We are meant for connection and the heartache is evidence of our success.

The heartache is also a blessing as it explodes into fragments our simple definition of “home”. If “home is where the heart is” then this nomadic lifestyle (and subsequent heartbreak) allows us to experience this idea in special ways.

The town that sheltered my broken soul as I recovered from a miscarriage and the death of a loved one, warranted giant tears when I departed. In a short time I had planted myself deeply. To this day, glancing over a map, my eyes will rest on that town because part of my heart never left. Although I will shall never reside there again, it will always feel like “home”.

Or the house on another continent that became our safehouse, our place of comfort and the scene of tremendous growth in our children. So much of my heart was left within those walls that I felt physically “homesick” for months after our PCS was complete. (I still do!) It will forever remain special.

Or the friends that we meet during a tour- the ones who become our confidants and kindred spirits… those goodbyes are painful, but as we share bits of our heart with those people we will be rewarded with great joy when our roads converge again. Even people can feel like “home”.

Whether we desire it or not, this nomadic lifestyle changes and moves us. We experience new things, new friendships and new cultures that cannot be unlearned. Even if we hate where we live, we are still changed! Our hearts are the parts that change the most- growing, expanding and reshaping after we leave bits of them behind. So while the molding and shaping can be painful sometimes, I’ve concluded that it is ultimately VERY GOOD.

At the end of the day I believe the pain is worth it. The friendships and experiences under my belt are priceless to me, even with the accompanying heartache. How lucky am I to feel homesick for so many people and so many places?

If you are moving soon and wondering if you have the energy to create another new normal, I say: don’t wait until you are withered and dry. Dig in and plant those roots as soon as possible, even if you must pull them up later. Give your heart to new friends, even if you know there will be a goodbye in your future. Feel free to spend a little time mourning over your last duty station, but don’t let the tears blind you to the riches of your new town. These miles of new soil will bring different opportunities and different experiences so go ahead and survey the ground until you find your special spot. Then plant yourself.

“[Anne] was leaving the home that was so dear to her, and something told her she was leaving it forever… things would never be the same again. And oh, how dear and beloved everything was… all the thousand and one spots where memories bided. Could she ever really be happy anywhere else?” – Anne of the Island

Yes… she could. And she was. And so will you and I. ❤️

Parenting

Words from a mom on the other side: your baby will be just fine.

Featuredby messykitchenministry3 Comments on Words from a mom on the other side: your baby will be just fine.
Words from a mom on the other side: your baby will be just fine.

Having a baby is no joke. You can never fully prepare for the experience before it happens and then BAM. Hit by a truck. My military husband once said that having a newborn was akin to Navy Survival School where service members are thrown into the woods and told to survive for a week alone. They return disheveled, exhausted, sometimes a bit traumatized and mostly in need of a good, hot shower. See the similarities there??

I am happy to say I survived the baby stage (more than once) and graduated to the next chapter. Let me tell you- IT FEELS GOOD. Some days I miss those precious times but usually I am relieved to have that stage behind me- diapers, naps, screaming, no sleep, buh bye. And THE PRESSURE to do things “right”. Oh, the pressure.

It’s unfortunate that society lumps parents into sides and groups and then sprinkles judgment upon us all, but it happens: breastfeeding or formula, rocking to sleep or crying-it-out, on-demand feeding or scheduling, napping or no, organic food or no, spanking or time-outs, etc, etc. Looking back, I am content with some of the sides I chose but regret other decisions I made in those busy days. I did the best I could, people, and always hoped that it would be enough for my kids. And I know my friends were doing the same.

From a mother on the other side, with all her kids in school now, let me say this: IT DIDN’T MATTER. Not at all. Those sides did not define the success or health of my kids, moreso than any of my friends’ kids. You will find that once you exit that stage, no one cares anymore and no one asks.

No one asks if my kids were born in a hospital, at home or in a hot tub. No one asks if I had an epidural or used essential oils to hasten the delivery process. Honestly, the biggest question being asked in my circle is- why do kids want Tik Tok?? But I digress…

None of the second grade teachers have asked me how long I nursed my child. None of the middle school teachers have asked me if I let my kid cry-it-out or if we co-slept or if my kid was potty trained by age two. NONE. It seems a big deal at the time and I read the books and stressed over the various physical developments but in the end… my kids are doing just as well as any other kid.

From a mother on the other side, let me tell you that the kid who was breastfed for four years isn’t doing better than the neighbor kid who drank formula. They both do well in school and contract winter colds from time to time.

The kid who was up three times a night at age one is doing just as well as the kid who “slept through the night” at six weeks. (I put that phrase in quotations because I think most parents lie about this anyway. But that probably needs another blog post.)

From a mom on the other side, let me tell you that the kid who didn’t potty train until age four is doing just as well as the kid who rejected diapers at age two. (Neither of them wear diapers in Middle School so YAY.)

So if you are smack dab in the middle of that baby/toddler stage, please do what works for you and ignore the pressure. If scheduling your baby’s naps makes your life more manageable, then do it. If wearing your baby in a wrap all day adds joy to your life, then do it. I’m not saying to ignore science, reject advice or forego any parenting books… just know that many of the details we Baby Moms stress about won’t matter in the long run. My friends and I made different decisions and subscribed to different philosophies but all of our kids are now thriving.

Is there a larger lesson here? In a world filled with so much criticism and critiquing, can we refrain from judging the things that don’t matter? Can we support and encourage our friends who are uniquely navigating this road of parenthood, just like we are?

Looking back, I see the road as an exhaustive race. Some families hopped towards the finish, some ran, some rode their bikes, some were fast while others were slow but they all made it across the finish line. Our children received their hugs and medals, graduated to new stages of independence and together we journeyed to the next leg.

Whether you are sprinting, hopping or limping, YOU ARE DOING A FINE JOB. And an IMPORTANT job. Do your thing and accept the mothers around you who are doing their own thing. We are all in this together and I am cheering for each one of you.

Military

A Letter To My Younger Self: A Navy Wife’s Reflection

Featuredby messykitchenministry44 Comments on A Letter To My Younger Self: A Navy Wife’s Reflection
A Letter To My Younger Self: A Navy Wife’s Reflection

Twenty years ago I sat in a stadium watching my future husband receive his commissioning in the US Navy. With a stack of blissful hopes and dreams we jumped into the military life and flew into the unknown. For that hometown 20-something girl, every single thing was an unknown. Dropped into a completely new world, she fumbled through those first few years, trying her best to understand the new military community and her place within it. I wish I could write her a letter to calm her fears and let her know that she was on the precipice of something rich and amazing.

Dear Younger Self,

Congratulations on your beautiful wedding! That epic day filled with sword arches and a Top Gun serenade seemed like the perfect launching pad for your new life.

Now here you are, two weeks later, unpacking boxes in your new apartment and thinking “What on Earth just happened?” All your family and friends now live thousands of miles away and South Texas surrounds you like a foreign country. (And why is this foreign country so freakishly hot????)

I see the way you are looking around now, disoriented, skeptical and lonely…But let me tell you something: you are going to be okay. Actually, you are going to be more than okay. You are going to have the adventure of a lifetime. LISTEN TO ME:

I know you are lonely now, but you are going to have deep and meaningful friendships. You will have friends from all fifty states, some for a period, but some for a lifetime. You will have close neighbors who invest in you and care for your children. You will meet other military spouses who will become your new family, your new world and your new tribe of military code-breakers. They will meet you in the parking lot when your car battery dies. They will laugh and cry with you during seemingly endless deployment cycles. Find these friends.

Finding your tribe takes effort but you will learn to do it well. Don’t wait around, don’t sit inside, leave the house and pursue people. At first it feels uncomfortable to join a new group or be known as “The Mrs” but I promise you the reward is there for the taking. Eventually you will become so efficient and bold in your quest for tribal membership that you will compose emails like “I like you and I think you are fun, wanna meet me for coffee?” And they do. (Actually, you will do this more than once). I guarantee you that every time you relocate to a new city you will find fantastic friends who will warrant tears when you depart. They sit around the world now, just waiting to meet you for coffee.

You will not be in control of your family’s schedule and there is nothing you can do but laugh. I’m serious here. I see you feeling annoyed, angry and beyond frustrated with the Navy but fighting is futile- you will always lose. You can stubbornly plan a vacation ten months away but sometimes your husband won’t know his schedule until a couple months before. Years of your life will be dictated by the schedule of a ship or the affairs of the world, none of which you can control. The sooner you can accept that, the happier you will be. (Don’t choose anger, choose donuts. Just kidding. Maybe not. Apple Fritters are forever.)

Remember- It’s not his fault that the ship is leaving. Don’t blame him for the schedule when it is inconvenient. When he is walking out the door with his pack and you are laying on the floor with the stomach flu, hoping your unsupervised toddler doesn’t grab any kitchen knives, he isn’t trying to purposefully run out on you. He’s trying to stay employed and not go to a sleepover at the base brig. Pull up your big girl pants and stop taking his schedule as a personal affront! If you want your marriage to succeed, you must learn to separate the two.

Deployments will seem like the end of the world but they are often forgettable. Your first deployment will be nine months long but years later you will barely recall the details. And all those times he deploys when your kids are young and you feel like their hearts will be crushed, the truth is that they won’t remember those separations either. I don’t mean to downplay the effort it will take to persevere through a deployment (because those times will push you beyond your limits), but those separations won’t define you or your kids. Your husband will miss some milestones but he will be there for a million more moments later and those relationships will thrive.

Your kids will have a different childhood than your own, but that is okay. You will wonder if moving them is traumatic, if not living on the same street will damage them. But then you will watch them learn about farming in California, walk the streets of Paris and tour the Capitol Building in DC. You will see their world views broadened through their personal experiences & friendships and you will know that their horizons are wider than you ever dreamed. Contrary to what you worry about, your children will have strong, beautiful roots that grow in many directions.

Your professional career is going to struggle but that’s okay, too. You will love some of your future jobs, but there will come a time when balancing work, family & the military life will be very difficult. “The flexible one” will need to be you and that’s the blunt truth. When your kid has a fever and can’t go to school, your husband won’t be coming home from the ship to handle it. When your kid is crying in the school bathroom after Daddy deploys, you will be the one to show up. And that’s when you will realize your most important job- to show up every time. You will be your family’s grounding force in an ever-shifting world and that stability will be worth more than any paycheck.

The military life will make your world bigger and smaller at the same time. Years from now, you will drive across the United States, from coast to coast, and know someone in almost every place. You will watch the news and think of your foreign friendships and the lessons they taught you about their home countries. Daily, you will pass souvenirs in your home- reminders from squadrons, port visits, tours abroad and all the moments when your world expanded a little further. You will realize one day that you are no longer the same person who was unpacking boxes in that first apartment.

Like every phase of adulthood…

This journey will pass in a blink. When these friends from South Texas begin to retire, your mind will replay all the emotions of the twenty years- the heartache of goodbyes, the stress of moving, the struggle of solo-parenting, the joy of Homecomings, the feelings of patriotism, the love of friends and everything in-between. You will grab your husband’s hand and think of all you have seen and experienced together and realize that the “sacrifice” of this life looks more like a beautiful gift.

SO GO. Don’t be afraid. A wonderful journey stands before you.

With love from your Older and Wiser Self,

p.s. Consider using eye cream a little earlier, then maybe you won’t have big bags under your eyes at age Forty. I’m just sayin.’

p.p.s. Never iron your husband’s white uniform without first confirming that the iron is clean. Especially not the night before a big event. TRUST ME.

Life

Living the Messy Life

Featuredby messykitchenministry10 Comments on Living the Messy Life
Living the Messy Life

People say the kitchen is the lifeblood of a house. It’s where family and friends congregate and eat; it’s where parties linger, conversations flow and occasions are celebrated.

I spend a significant portion of my day standing in my kitchen, which usually doubles as a home office because Mama needs a command center! As a military family we have lived in many houses but rarely have these floor plans offered a work space close to the kitchen. Consequently, I usually commandeer a corner and claim it as my own.

What happens then? Clutter. Some chaos. An endless stack of school papers and bills residing next to the bowl of bananas. It’s enough to make Mrs. Marie Kondo weep. So the reality is that my kitchen is usually a bit messy!

While I am definitely capable of sanitizing the space for the public eye, if you spontaneously pop over for a visit, you will definitely see clutter and maybe a half-eaten piece of peanut butter toast which my kid insists she will finish after school. (Truthfully you will see clutter in other areas of my house, too, but that’s another story.) As my favorite letterboard quote says: “My decorating style is ‘There appears to have been a struggle.’” **Sigh**… housekeeping is just not my strong suit.

Years ago I had a new acquaintance who often spoke about her tidy home. The subject weaved itself into our conversations over and over again until I began to grow suspicious. As she spoke about her wonderfully organized house and her constantly well-behaved kids, I sensed her need to project an image of perfection but wished she would simply RELAX.

Desiring to know her better, I invited her to my own house for a last-minute cup of coffee (this is another word for “mom-speed-dating”). Immediately after coordinating the date, I thought about this woman’s spotless house and began tidying my messy kitchen, fearing judgment for my housekeeping failures.  Halfway through the process, I stopped. What was I doing? Was I trying to prove something to her? Was I also trying to project perfection in order to be her equal? Man, it was contagious!

In a moment of clarity, I realized that if I desired to know this friend better, we needed to push through this façade. So I decided to leave the clutter. I don’t recall the exact state of affairs but surely a stack of mail cavorted with some school papers, children’s drawings and dirty dishes. While the scene felt slightly awkward, I hoped that in revealing my imperfection, this new friend would feel more comfortable revealing hers and we could move forward on equal turf. No competition here.

Did she notice? I will never know. But later that evening I confessed to my husband that I had intentionally left our kitchen in chaos for this woman’s visit and said “It’s my ‘Messy Kitchen Ministry’. It’s my way of subtly telling people that perfection isn’t important to me.”

From then on, “Messy Kitchen Ministry” became a catch phrase in our conversations as we marched forward, striving to be transparent and authentic with the people we meet. We learned that showing our “weaknesses” went a long way in making people feel comfortable. Our real lives involve unfortunate mistakes, unflattering photos and untidy corners…the messy stuff… and I have learned not to be afraid of it. (And frankly, there is usually humor to be found in much of it.)

The truth is that life is a bit messy for everyone, is it not? I’m talking beyond the kitchen walls now. And yet…

Do we ever choose to reveal a little of our mess or do we wrap ourselves into a pretty package and project the perfect life? Do we shove our weaknesses and failures into cupboards with the hope that no one sees them? Do we only post the best parts of ourselves on social media to convince the world that we have it all together? It’s tempting to live this way.

I’m not saying we should showcase our mess, plant our flags and marinate in it forever (our end goal is not to live in a state of chaos), but rather, wouldn’t it be nice to end the charade and be our honest selves? Can we all admit that we are works in progress, striving to be better? Can we all admit that sometimes our homes don’t look like magazines, our kids don’t always behave and our lives don’t always go the way we planned?

I have an idea….

What if we collectively raised our hands and said “I am not perfect and I don’t expect my friends to be”?

What would happen to us then?? I think we would find great community, intimate friendship and a more grace-filled perspective! I think we would stop comparing ourselves to Pinterest and start laughing with our friends about our failures (crafting and otherwise). Maybe we could finally admit to some of our struggles without fearing judgment. Perhaps we would be more honest, more relaxed, and feel more accepted.

Because when life boils down to the basics, that’s the way I want to live- leftover peanut butter toast, crumpled utility bills and all. Let’s start a new movement. Let’s choose to be honest and messy and find friends who do the same.

Parenting

The Velveteen Mothers

by messykitchenministry1 Comment on The Velveteen Mothers
The Velveteen Mothers

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.)

Life

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

by messykitchenministry4 Comments on Wanted: COVID-19 Life Coach. Because I am tired.
Wanted: COVID-19 Life Coach. Because I am tired.

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