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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**

Life

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

Featuredby 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

Life, Uncategorized

It’s a Merry Messy Christmas

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It’s a Merry Messy Christmas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Original Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

Military

Military Spouses and the Invisible Backpack: a conversation about stress

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments 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

Celebrating Military Kids and Leaving the Stereotypes Behind

Featuredby messykitchenministry2 Comments on Celebrating Military Kids and Leaving the Stereotypes Behind
Celebrating Military Kids and Leaving the Stereotypes Behind

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

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

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

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

“Maybe the military might not ruin them…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uncategorized

Hey America, can we take a deep breath?

Featuredby messykitchenministry3 Comments on Hey America, can we take a deep breath?
Hey America, can we take a deep breath?

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

Ready? Ok. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Life

Crying Over Spilled Champagne: the guilt and struggle of 2020

Featuredby messykitchenministry1 Comment on Crying Over Spilled Champagne: the guilt and struggle of 2020
Crying Over Spilled Champagne: the guilt and struggle of 2020

Years ago, when my husband was on a long deployment and my kids were little, I recall a civilian friend comparing our seven month deployment to her husband’s short business trip. “I know how you feel”, she said. I politely smiled but in my head I said “Umm…my situation is MUCH WORSE.”

Later, when my husband changed jobs and never left town I grew accustomed to his presence and almost panicked when he told me he had to travel for seven days. IN A ROW. I remember eating my words a bit and realizing that both situations presented some anxiety for mothers of young children, even if one scenario was more intense. Noted.


Fast forward to 2020. Admittedly, my life during this pandemic has been pretty easy. Since March, my family has not worried about unemployment or paying the bills. We have not worried about groceries or healthcare or a safe place to quarantine. My husband’s job continued as always, I had time to help my kids with online school and our stay-at-home orders found us watching movies and completing puzzles within the safety of our house.


On paper I have zero reason to complain. I have a large backyard in which my children can play, I have a community of friends around me who offer support. Plus, I am an introverted person who prefers to be at home above all else. Isn’t this what I always wished for? More time with my kids, more time at home and less time in the carpool lane? Haven’t I always valued the slow life? Haven’t I wanted time to stop so I can savor this stage of parenthood? YES!! EXACTLY!! So… what is the problem? Why am I feeling… down? (Is that something I can even admit without sounding like a complete jerk?)


Things could be so much worse, I tell myself. People’s businesses are going under, people’s loved ones are dying, people’s homes are being foreclosed and you are feeling down? Your husband isn’t deployed, your family isn’t sick…pull up your positive pants and make the best of this year! STOP CRYING OVER SPILLED CHAMPAGNE!!

But…I can’t. And I am consumed with guilt over it. I feel sad and… (dare I say it out loud?)…a little depressed. I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to snap out of it and distract myself and focus on the positive… but I am still struggling to maintain status quo. And I haven’t wanted to tell anyone because it makes me sound shallow and ungrateful for the ease of my life.


But might this be similar to the example above? If another person has a more intense experience than me, does it void my own? Someone could say “I have it worse than you” and I would agree 100%. No argument. But does that make my struggle unworthy of addressing? (This is my own self-talk here.) What if I stopped ignoring my feelings and actually dealt with them?


See, I haven’t been sleeping or eating or feeling well. My stomach hurts. I have found myself uninterested in doing much besides eating chocolate cake. (Maybe this is why my stomach hurts.) My best analogy is that I am living in a never ending holding pattern with no landing strip in sight. We circle around and around every day, on the same route, watching the same scene below, hoping somehow we will return to Earth.

We will invite friends to our house when COVID ends.

We will return to school when COVID ends.

We will attend church again when COVID ends.

We will travel to see our families when COVID ends.

I won’t be teaching third grade math when COVID ends.

But when is the END?? We don’t know! And that in itself is mentally exhausting. As a military spouse I can say that anything is possible if you have an end date. The unknown is what wrecks the mental game. So here I sit, admitting that my mental game is a bit haggard and disheveled. (Is yours?) Our short term survival-mode has turned into weeks, months and seasons, taxing our adrenals with its nebulous timeline and making us mentally tired. (And I haven’t even mentioned the stress of racial justice, wildfires or our nation’s upcoming elections. God help us.)


For the very first time in my life, this vague timeline feels more like an absence of a timeline. Every year I have progressed from one step to another, into another phase, another journey, another season. But in 2020, I am doing the exact same thing today that I was doing six months ago (just in a different state) and I am unsure when my movement will again begin. My kids are still schooling at home, public venues are still closed, activities are still cancelled, we are social distancing with all of our friends, and still not seeing our families. Our mental states are not only weary, but perplexed. And therein lays the root of my “problem”.


So how do I continue managing my mental health in an era of time that doesn’t seem to move? In my rational moments I do know that our world will eventually get past COVID-19, just like we moved forward from the Spanish flu and other pathogens. (And if not, Jesus is coming back y’all, so start investing in His heart and yours!) But the question remains- what do we do in the meantime, the “down” time, the never ending home quarantine? I’ve been thinking about it.


— We need to honestly acknowledge our feelings and talk with a trusted person about them. Maybe even a counselor. Are you aware of the common signs of depression?

Hopelessness

Lack of interest

Anxiety

Sleep problems

Changes in appetite

Irritability

Fatigue

*BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF.*


—We need to try to focus on the here and now, rather than three months down the road. We only know what life is like this week. Or this day. Or this hour. (And hasn’t 2020 taught us that the future is unpredictable?) Make today count!


—We need to try to find small ways to boost joy and keep the time moving forward. Maybe it’s a new soda every Thursday night (true story), decorating your Christmas tree three months early (considering it), Zooming with your best friend every week, leaving your house/ isolation unit for a day in nature or finding ways to volunteer and help your community. Make it happen!

— We can continue to give ourselves the same Grace in Quarantine Land that we offered to our souls in March. Have we forgotten this already? Admittedly, I needed a refresher.

Although I have days where I feel stuck in a never ending spin cycle of kids yelling at me over Google Classroom, I am trying to continue moving forward. One foot in front of the other, one more breakfast prepared in the kitchen, one more morning logging into our computers, one more afternoon reading with my sweet kids, one more evening kissing those precious faces goodnight. I have successfully passed much, much harder challenges than this. Truly, I am grateful for all that I have been given.


But if I feel a little downcast some mornings, I’m learning to be okay with that, too. 2020 is an entirely new sport and the former rules don’t always apply here. Some days I may win and some days I may lose, but I will try my best to make my plays count. And if not…well…there’s always more chocolate cake, right?

Good luck to us all,

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. ❤️

Life

Grace for Everyone in Quarantine Homeschool Stay At Home Land

Featuredby messykitchenministry4 Comments on Grace for Everyone in Quarantine Homeschool Stay At Home Land
Grace for Everyone in Quarantine Homeschool Stay At Home Land

So here we are, three weeks after my last blog post about COVID-19 and most of the country is staying at home and homeschooling in quarantine. Well this isn’t what I thought I would be doing when we rang in the New Year! Damn. Have we ever quarantined? When was the last time our entire country educated at home- when George Washington was President? This is crazy.

I don’t know about you, but in a matter of days I went from a quiet house to my husband working from home indefinitely and all my kids here 24/7. A week later, Virginia closed its schools for the remainder of the school year (hello five months of togetherness) and then the Governor declared stay-at-home measures though June 10th. So like a tornado in Tulsa, this virus just blew the roof off my house.

With all my own commitments blown away, I am now parked at my kitchen table every morning coaxing my children through hours of online school- helping one kid with Virginia Studies and the migration of Scottish-Irish immigrants while another continues acrostic poems and parallel segments (“Is it snack time yet?). I am searching our house for quadrilateral shapes (what’s a quadrilateral?) and listening to my teen talk about acids and bases. Again, not how I predicted 2020!

For my friends and family in the healthcare industry, who figuratively had their entire houses blown away, I know 2020 wasn’t what you predicted either. Please know how much we appreciate you. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for your work and dedication and sacrifice. ❤

For the emergency responders and essential workers who are bearing the stress of providing our basic needs, I hope you know how much we appreciate you, too. By managing our cities and stocking our groceries you are stemming chaos and providing the heartbeat for our modern lives. My contribution of staying home feels petty in comparison but I will do my best to follow the rules and protect the health of our community.

While history unfolds in our laps we cannot know how this will ultimately affect us all- culturally, financially or psychologically. Unknowns loom before us. But I do know that we can choose our thoughts right now, or at least harness them in a mindful direction. And my own thoughts keep circling back to the concept of grace. How can we offer it to ourselves and others in this dark time?

While the word “grace” can be defined in different ways, I view it today as a temporary exemption, a reprieve, a kind of mercy or pardon. (Thank you Merriam-Webster.)

So to whoever needs to hear this:

You are temporarily exempted from your normal life and your normal self. This never-seen-in-our-lifetime event has crushed our normalcy. It’s okay to be winded. It’s okay to feel like the rug suddenly pulled out from underneath you. It’s okay if you don’t feel like your normal self. We are all struggling because THIS IS NOT NORMAL.

Give yourself an exemption, some grace, when your emotions get the best of you. Every day is a new day and another chance to adjust our attitudes and appropriately manage our stress. I was a manic-depressive monster during our first week of quarantine until my husband finally told me to get myself together. Roger. I knew I could do better than that.

Give yourself grace to process what could have been in 2020. Maybe missing sports seasons, graduation ceremonies, weddings and other life events are first-world problems, but their cancellations still bring real and legitimate feelings of grief. We had anticipated so much joy but instead sit crestfallen and utterly shocked. Or maybe you saw your career shifting into high gear but now find unemployment and mortgage payments looming before you. Even if we are fortunate to have our health, 2020 will be heavy with personal loss. It’s okay to release your waterfall of tears.

Give yourself grace when your quarantined friends on social media start to peck at your core. When everyone starts bragging about their self-improvement plans, their exercise regimens, their sudden interest in learning three languages or another instrument, or their homemade organic spelt tortillas that their four year old loves to make, know that you don’t need to compete. That is their life, not yours. Don’t let them steal your confidence.

Additionally, give yourself grace as you see the Online Joneses homeschooling (oh my, have mercy upon us.) As they infiltrate the internet with their glorious plans to produce Harvard graduates, let me say loud and clear that YOU DO NOT NEED TO DO ALL OF THAT. Your kid doesn’t need to be able to speak Mandarin Chinese when we emerge from our caves. Log out of Facebook and Instagram if you start feeling inadequate. Right now, life is stressful enough without the burden of comparison.

Take a deep breath.

We also need to extend grace to people around us, many of whom might be processing/experiencing this pandemic differently than you or me. Telling the mother of a graduating senior that she shouldn’t be sad because you grew up during a Lebanese civil war is not helpful (thanks but no thanks, Facebook lady.) We don’t need to play the “who has it worse” game. Likewise, telling someone to “praise God in all circumstances” when that person has a loved one in the ICU, minimizes people’s feelings and negates their emotions of the day. Join your friends where they are. (Emotionally, not physically, stay home!)

Give your kids grace, too, as they process all of this, especially teens. Remember, their friends are their tribe, even moreso than their families. Friendships are one of the MOST important aspects of their life so when that slice of the pie is suddenly stolen from them emotional chaos ensues. They need time to adjust and mourn in their own way. (And by the way, screens will happen now, more than ever. It’s just the way of the world in quarantine. Boundaries are still good but this isn’t normal life.)

It goes without saying, but give grace to your littles, too. They didn’t choose to cancel school and uproot our social systems. While we gaze upon our shredded calendar, they are simultaneously trying to make sense of this scary, ever-changing world. We can do our part by being a shield of peace and protection over them. (Meaning, turn off the damn news when they are awake!) With God’s mercy upon us we can get them snack #1,373,938, cuddle on the couch and help them find a new, temporary normal.

As we go about our days, let’s give mercy and grace to our whole society- to our government officials, teachers, co-workers, neighbors, spouses, and everyone else in this shocked world. Change has touched EVERYONE.

As the famous saying goes- “This, too, shall pass”… eventually. 🙂 Our Earth has seen hard times before and has managed to continue spinning. So to all the people in Quarantine Homeschool Stay At Home Land, keep calm and press onward. It’s all we can do. Grace will see us through.

Original photo by Leon Biss on Unsplash

**If life has become difficult to manage, please know that resources are available to help you. There’s no shame in seeking to be your best self.

National Domestic Violence Hotline 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) 24/7, free and confidential

National Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-273-8255

Substance Abuse and Mental Health National Helpline 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

MilitaryOneSource Free counseling 1-800-342-9647

Life

The Greatest Opportunity: thinking beyond ourselves and COVID-19

Featuredby messykitchenministry6 Comments on The Greatest Opportunity: thinking beyond ourselves and COVID-19
The Greatest Opportunity: thinking beyond ourselves and COVID-19

The world will always remember the tragedy of September 11, 2001. We recall the heartbreak and fear but also the tremendous community spirit that blew across the United States. I’d like to think the true American spirit shined through in those months that followed. We opened our hearts to strangers, stood in line for hours to donate blood, and loved each other through the shock. We selflessly gave ourselves away.

The past few years have been strange for America. We have been divisive and angry and unable to find common ground on much at all. We say “Never Forget” September 11th but sometimes I think our memories have dimmed. Nowadays, it seems like many Americans are out for themselves- claiming “free speech” but using it recklessly and hypocritically, not really caring how their words hurt others. We claim our “rights” to do this or do that, not really caring how our individual decisions affect our neighbors. We have made it all about us. Or all about “ME”.

I’ve often thought of my grandparents’ generation, the Greatest Generation, who sacrificed life and luxury and individual liberty for the sake of our Nation. Are we capable of such a thing now? Are we capable of acting on behalf of the Greater Good, instead of our individual selves? We managed to use our inner-compass after September 11th. Can we find it again??

I believe we still have this human decency in us and COVID-19 might be our shining moment to prove it again. And for the people out there who weren’t yet adults when the World Trade Center fell, this is your chance to join the Nation in a larger quest. It might be our Greatest Opportunity to think beyond ourselves and act according to the Greater Good.

How can we do this? We can put our community above all else and work together to keep America healthy.

We can stop fretting over the television and take action of our own. The facts are clear- the virus is rapidly spreading- and we can take responsibility as mature adults. Is this whole thing over-hyped or under-hyped? Does it matter? Certain segments of our population are in danger and we can put a protective wall around them because it’s the RIGHT THING TO DO. Current evidence suggests that older individuals and those with suppressed immune systems have the highest risk of death. Love your older parents and grandparents. Love those who are suffering from diabetes or undergoing cancer treatments. They are depending on our shields so let’s sacrifice some of our luxuries and put up the armor. Is this too much to ask?

We can temporarily alter our activities, knowing that we could be germ-carriers. Even if the virus doesn’t typically cause harm to our own age groups, we can protect our vulnerable populations by not silently spreading COVID-19 all over town. That means canceling concerts, canceling unnecessary travel, respecting social-distancing and staying home as much as possible. Sure, flights to Mexico are probably cheap, but keep the big picture in mind. Compared to the sacrifices of the Greatest Generation, is this really too much to ask?

We can learn to be flexible. We can take orders from our companies and set up shop at home, even if it seems like a paranoid plan that makes our jobs a little more difficult. Even if there is no evidence of the virus in our workplaces or companies. Do it for the Greater Good. Is temporarily working from home in your pajamas really too much to ask?

We can have patience with our schools and find ways to help our kids. Believe me, I’m not interested in home-schooling, but if extracting my kids from the public will slow the spread of this virus through our town, SEND THEM HOME RIGHT NOW. And how can we help the other kids in our schools? If both of their parents are working, can we help with childcare? Are they dependent on school meals to combat their hunger? Can we deliver food? Work as a community? Is this too much to ask?

We can stop hoarding toilet paper and supplies for ourselves. This isn’t Armageddon, nor a call to live off the grid for six months. Why not buy your weekly supply and leave some on the shelf for your neighbors? (Diarrhea is not related to COVID-19 and families still need these items on a continuing basis.) Why not buy a giant pack of disinfectant wipes and distribute them to the other houses on your block, rather than stocking your own basement? Is that too much to ask?

This isn’t going to last forever, the pandemic will eventually end. How wonderful would it be to look back upon 2020 and remember that our inner-compass steered us in the right direction?! That, together, we Americans took care of our neighbors, friends and strangers and kept our local communities healthy and strong! WE CAN DO THIS!! It is the Greatest Opportunity!!

Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

Military

Quirky Military Homes and the Reasons I Love Them

Featuredby messykitchenministry2 Comments on Quirky Military Homes and the Reasons I Love Them
Quirky Military Homes and the Reasons I Love Them

My family has moved many times in the last twenty years, in the country and out, from base to base to base. There is an unbeatable camaraderie among military families, for a plethora of reasons, but I find the laughter (and frustration) over our homes to be a special connection. Living transitory lives in different places yields a certain attitude about houses and a funny quirkiness in our spaces that entertains me. Our homes tell an eclectic, sometimes humorous story and represent so many aspects of the military life.

Here are TEN REASONS I LOVE MILITARY HOMES:

1) Lifestyle constraints make us low-maintenance. While normal families might spend months finding the perfect house, military families must be quick to find shelter and beggars can’t be choosers. We are moving in six weeks?? Alrighty… A house on base that looks exactly like every other house on the block? Okay. A rental house across the country that we must reserve, site-unseen, because the market moves so quickly? And it has a granny bathtub and a kitchen the size of a dollhouse? That’s fine. Or moving to a small town and finding only ten houses for sale within the school boundaries, none of which were the kind of house we had in mind? Okay, I guess this one will do. And since we might only be there for two years, we focus on the small things, ignore the big things (like the bright yellow hallway tile we want to jackhammer) and accept our imperfect houses until we fly away to our next nest.

2) Military homes keep us humble. In a world of dream homes, HGTV, and the need to keep up with the Jones’, many military families grab a bag of popcorn and watch from the sidelines. Our houses are often not worth bragging about (see above) but exist for practical purposes. They do the job, they give us shelter, they provide a temporary space for our family and we make them work. If your house has a toilet 12” from the front of the washing machine (a scenario which takes multi-tasking to an ENTIRELY new level) you can’t feel too haughty #truestory. If your downstairs doesn’t have any heating vents or your kitchen has only four cabinets or two microwaves installed next to each other, you aren’t calling “House Beautiful” and asking for a magazine spread. You are calling your friends and saying “My new house has lime green walls. It’s fine, my kid will sleep there.”

3) Furniture is often eclectic and tells a story. Those who have been stationed in Europe usually have large antiques, often filled with Polish Pottery. (I miss you, Trocs.) People who have been stationed in Japan often have Tansu Chests against their wall, showcasing their souvenirs from East Asia.

Sadly, many of these pieces have battle scars from the moving process- broken table legs forced back together with superglue or large scratches across the surface from when Joe the Mover decided to place the lawn mower on top. (Way to go, man.) Normal people might replace their flawed furniture but military families think of future moves and future damage, place a tablecloth over the top and tell their friends “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

4) Furniture often doesn’t fit right. While normal families choose the perfect sofa for the perfect living room, we shoot in the dark, hoping that what we buy will be transferrable in two years. It’s all a gamble! When we downsize from a 4,000 sq ft Texas mansion to a 1600 sq ft home in Washington DC, we will curse our large sectionals that now fill every inch of space in our tiny living room. But…we paid MONEY for that big sofa and we aren’t divorcing it quite yet. It will do.

Sometimes our furniture has to go suddenly, like when my friend moved to England and couldn’t get her King size mattress in the front door! Oops. New mattress please!

5) Furniture is often repurposed. When spaces change, so do the lives of our possessions. My friends’ nightstands, which are too wide for her new bedroom, now reside next to her front door as side tables. My other friend’s kitchen buffet table now sits in her living room. The file cabinet that matches the office desk sometimes doubles as a TV stand. The rug I purchased for my front entry now lives in my master bedroom because our new house doesn’t have space by the front door. (Does it match my bedroom linens? Nope. But someday I might have a foyer again so the rug stays.)

6) Home decor often goes through a lengthy consideration process. Normal families see an item they like and buy it. Done. Shopping is not that simple for us. We see something at a store and think Do I have a place for that? Is it likely that I would have a place for it in another house? What are the chances that it will survive our next move? Is it too fragile? How would movers actually load that onto a truck? If I buy a glass coffee table, will it be destroyed within two years? Wood it is. Sometimes we buy things we love (like the couches mentioned above) and deal with the spaces as they come. Sometimes we win and sometimes… well… we live tightly.

7) Sometimes we look like hoarders. That 4,000 sq ft mansion reduced to 1600 sq ft might mean a mountain of possessions inside our walls. When we move to a house that suddenly has zero closets and no garage, the bikes might live in the dining room. Or we may live in the desert but fill our closets with bins of snowgear in case our next duty station has cold winters (because that stuff is an INVESTMENT). We might have one room with three mismatched couches or European antiques shoved in the corner of our children’s bedrooms #truestoryagain. With unclear futures and unknown spaces ahead of us, hoarding can easily happen.

8) Unexpected souvenirs abound everywhere. We hail from all corners of America and have lived in a variety of places so our decorating style can be random but special. My Georgian friend lives in Virginia but has a Washington State highway sign on her wall. My Louisiana-born friend has a collection of Japanese souvenirs on her shelf. Another friend of mine has a couch full of British pillows. My living room displays a random black elephant from Hong Kong sitting next to a photo of the Pacific Northwest. That’s how we roll- converging our home states with our places of residence and our worldly souvenirs.

9) Military houses help design future dreams. Every house teaches us a lesson and adds mental bricks to our “forever homes”, those castles in the sky which military families so often reference. We dream of a future home of our choosing, in which we finally have control over our space and the location. Our forever houses will have this… we always say in conversation. One house taught us that white tile always looks dirty. Other houses have taught us that front porches prevent soggy packages, black countertops show crumbs, fewer bathrooms mean fewer spaces to clean, and again, let’s not put a toilet next to the washing machine. Essentially, military families have the opportunity to test-drive different shapes and sizes of houses and fine-tune our future abodes. It is an unexpected gift of this nomadic life!

And what I love MOST about military homes is…

10) They represent the essence of our military journey. We are a collection of memories and battle scars. We load ourselves into trucks and transport ourselves across the country (or the ocean) to serve where we are needed. We smash ourselves into corners, cover our wounds and look out the window at the new scenery. We reinvent ourselves every time, putting forth new energy into our new purpose. We might not look pretty, we might not fit exactly into our new space but we awkwardly try. With every move we look a little more worn (and maybe a little more quirky) but don’t let the outside fool you. We are STRONG, STURDY and ABLE to get the job done. 🙂

To all the military families who are moving this year: may the force be with you, may the movers be gentle with your furniture and may your new nest have neutral paint colors and normal toilets. Godspeed.

Has your military family lived in a quirky home? I would love to hear your stories! ❤️

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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.

Life

That Time I Was Forced To Get A Dog

by messykitchenministryLeave a Comment on That Time I Was Forced To Get A Dog
That Time I Was Forced To Get A Dog

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

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

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

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

“After Thanksgiving!” the mother replied.

“After Christmas!” she said later.

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

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

“That is correct.” she admitted.

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

Shocking surprise, THIS WOMAN WAS ME.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Parenting

This One Is For All The Mothers

by messykitchenministry3 Comments on This One Is For All The Mothers
This One Is For All The Mothers

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

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

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

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

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

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