Military – Eyes to See

Counting Up the Cost: Military and Kids

My husband encountered God in Iraq on his third combat deployment in 2007. Shortly after experiencing Christ, he felt the call into the military missions field to serve as a Chaplain. There were many hoops to jump through (a.k.a. undergrad, Seminary and ministry experience) until it came full circle and he commissioned as a Navy Chaplain in December 2014.

While we pursued the call of Christ, we had to count up the cost of discipleship, the call to serve God’s people and our Nation. The costs were not only spiritual, but financial, identity forming and career changing, redefining our family’s trajectory, hopes and dreams, all while learning that every yes was simultaneously a no to something else.

When we counted the cost to pursue a lifestyle in service to military members and their families, we forgot an important line item: children. We had none when the journey began, and now we have two dear ones. No amount of counting, budgeting and planning would’ve prepared me as a Mom for the cost of this lifestyle to my children.

The deprecating “you knew what you were getting yourself into” comment doesn’t translate down to our children. They are the unseen sacrifice, offering their little life for the good of our Nation. They didn’t sign up for Daddy missing birthdays, Christmas and their first steps. They won’t ever get to say “my Dad never missed one of my games.” They don’t receive military training classes to show them the ropes, learn the acronyms or find camaraderie at the FRG. Few, if any, turn to them shake their hands and thank them for their service.

Many parents I’ve rubbed elbows with (myself included) struggle most with how this military life affects our children. Absolutely nothing prepares you for the heartache of watching the military child’s cost. The inconsolable hours of tears when they say goodbye before deployment… then having to physically peel them off their departing parent when the goodbye comes. The good days peppered with a random meltdown and proclamation of missing Daddy…. The loss of sleep, acting out and misbehavior that accompanies a child unable to process and handle the grief of being without a parent, because they’ve been volun-told they simply cannot have them for a season.

It’s gut wrenching. It’s hard to handle the reality and lies that whisper we are “messing our kids up.” We can’t fix or help or find a solution when Daddy’s *gone* but they just WANT him. Feeling helpless and unable to rescue them in their pain is antithetical to parenthood.

In the midst of these sufferings, I’ve learned the cost of discipleship. Following Christ authentically often comes with loss, and this is especially poignant for the military family. My children lose their home, friends and routine every 30-36 months. They lose their actual father for seasons. Parallel to that, I likewise lose my spouse and parenting partner for large chunks of time. I lose the dreams of giving my children a happy childhood, free from hardship and pain. I lose my dreams of them growing up near family, having sleepovers with cousins and pool parties with lifelong neighbors. I lose hope that all these things can work together for their good and God’s glory in the long run. While being obedient to God’s call is never easy, some days my husband and I would rather abandon it all to shelter and protect our children.

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?” (Luke 14:26-28)

While we do not literally hate one another, our military ministry has come with permitting the abandonment of family, one another as spouses and even our children at times. Following Jesus has led us through four deployments and five-ish years of accumulated time separated as a family. We’ve moved to four different states since having children. And we keep doing it for one reason- hope and love. The cross we bear is not easily explained and understood, unless you’re living it. Even with the added expense this takes on our children, we are determined to complete the call to build a tower, a monument of love, a life in service to the image of God in the people who serve our nation.

My husband may earn ribbons and awards for his military service and I might get a certificate or two of appreciation. The kiddos might get some applause at the retirement ceremony someday. But what they’re really receiving in the challenges of this lifestyle is the rich soil of discipleship. A soul that is dug deep, overturned, broken up, cultivated and ready to receive seed. Seed that someday will prayerfully take root, and grow deep and bear good fruit- 10, 20, 100 fold.

I do not know the outcome of how our lifestyle will truly shape our children but I believe that their role is equally infused with the Divine as they grow and mature within this lifestyle. I believe they will see the fullness of God in every human being we cross paths with across the globe because of their exposure to different places, people and culture. Following Jesus as a disciple is never rainbows and butterflies and my children have tasted the truth of hardship and trial in their early lives. My children also have tasted and seen the joy that lies just beyond the pain: the hugs and happy tears of homecoming. The pride of standing still with hand thrust over heart while evening Colors play. The instant connection and quick friendship they can build with other military children who “get it.” These are good gifts.

So military families, take heart. The struggle bus will keep driving through the deployment woes and PCS goodbyes, the FaceTimes with grandparents and the empty spots at your dinner table each holiday. Jesus is at the wheel and he’ll take our families where He knows we need to go so we can love the broken and become disciples who make disciples. Living this military life like you’re on mission from God- every place and face ordained by Him to cross your path and your children’s path– changes the journey. We’re not prisoners on the bus, we are the brothers and sisters on the best road trip. The cost will be worthy of the call to be Jesus’ ride or die. The treasure is storing up in heaven.

April is the month of the military child. Revel in those children and their sacrifices, strength and service. Squeeze them a little tighter. Honor them as the littlest disciples. Talk about their bravery and celebrate their strength. While they didn’t choose this life, they should be celebrated for their role in our Nation’s fabric.

Reunion

Reunion: a word that brings back many happy memories for some. The waft of summer barbecues. The clinking of a game of horseshoes. The smell of salty ocean air and personalized family T-shirts.

For others, reunion reminds them of losing those pounds gained since high school; or of the final push toward accomplishment so there is something to show for the passing years.

The Hollywood vision of military reunion is probably the most public portrayal of this lifestyle. Sailors swooping their sweethearts off their feet in the middle of a street. Soldiers surprising daughters and sons at school functions. Wives running toward husbands and children waving flags. Roses. Cute signs. Cheers. Regalia. Bands. Military homecoming looks so happy. And it is.

But it’s more than that- it’s frightening. Those moments we embrace for the first time in forever are happy. But what do we do with the remaining moments? The drive from the ship to our home. The days of leave where we spend 24/7 together after months of separation. The routine. The normalcy that gets redefined. Reintegration is hard and scary. And we should stop mascarading and pretending it’s anything but.

Reintegration looks like a wife laying in bed trembling before she goes to sleep that first night with her husband. It’s strange and unfamiliar. She’ll have to share the pillows again. It’s hard to welcome his touch after shutting off desire for months. It’s hard to quiet the clamorous thoughts: “will it feel the same? Will he notice I lost 10 lbs? Will he like the new perfume I’m wearing?” And as his fingers glide over her skin she cries- a combination of fear, happiness and relief. She’s not alone anymore. But it feels so lonely at the same time. Inside her mind she thinks, “He doesn’t know me anymore.”

Homecoming looks like a child too timid to approach his mommy because she’s returned hardened by war. Her happiness and delight in those first moments of reunion wear off into blank stares, vigilance along the roadside, distracted thoughts and wondering if she’ll ever be able enjoy this freedom she defended again. If she can be happy again. If she can have a good life with that son she happily stood in freedom’s wing for. And the child in the backseat thinks and wonders if his mommy even loves him anymore. She still seems so far away.

Homecoming is the give and take of routine being refigured. It’s sons and daughters being relieved of what were their extra responsibilities. It’s wives learning to reallow their husband to open her car door. Who will take the kids to their games? Who will do dishes after dinner? How will I carve time into life to give attention to my spouse again? Will I have any time alone again?

The Good News is always that- good news. There is good news for these tough and scary times. We can never be prepared for reunion with our loved one without the help of Christ. No self help book or readiness program can do what He did on the cross. He covers. He gives grace. He forgives.

And that’s what we must do. Military families must cover. Military families must give grace. But mostly, we must do the hardest work of all- forgive.

Covering looks like saying it’s okay your spouse doesn’t remember what day the recycling gets picked up. Covering is saying Mommy or Daddy missed that birthday, but we can celebrate together now. Covering looks like allowing our warriors to grieve, cry and mourn the loss they may have experienced, even if that’s just the loss of camaraderie with someone other than this family.

Grace looks like saying sorry when you argue about who should bathe the children. Grace is seeing your independent spouse still maintain his or her routine even though you are home- and commending them for their strength instead of resenting them for it. Grace looks like turning off the tv and telling the kids it’s been so long since you’ve played with them that you need them to help you remember.

Forgiveness is the biggest priority through it all. We need forgiveness for the time apart, for the misunderstandings, for the lack of communicating the big and little ways our hearts have changed, how our routines have changed, how our lifestyles have changed, howour thoughts and perspectives have changed. Forgiveness for making new friends both for the person on deployment and for us back at home, and expecting our spouses and families to just join in that relationship we’ve built alone for months. We may even extend forgiveness to our Nation for allowing our families to carry the burden of freedom, for allowing our children’s hearts feel the realities of a warrior’s life: real trauma, suffering, sadness and grief they barely understand, let alone process.

There’s so much more of homecoming we never talk about, never make space for, never give words to… but we need to start opening up these lines of communication so we can love each other through it. So we can normalize what feels so isolating. So we can say after reunion “this is hard.” Or “our marriage is not as happy as I thought this would be.” Or “my kids still don’t trust Daddy even though he’s been home for 6 months.” It’s time we share the truth: homecoming is hard. But the other side of that coin is that we shouldn’t be ashamed because it’s hard, either. Life feels hard when we don’t feel heard.

So it’s time we speak up, give words, and share stories of how hard these moments are, so we can receive grace and mercy from each other. So we can let others talk and share and cry and say “I didn’t think this would be so hard!”

Let’s stop perpetuating lies that say “these are supposed to be the happiest days” when you’re reunited and let’s remember the blood, sweat and tears that goes into overcoming hardship, even after our service members come home to safety.

I think military families can do redeployment well if we’re doing it loved. It’s time we create that space for each other. It’s time the Church sees this transition-homecoming- as fragile and sacred so they can support, listen and offer us love, free babysitting and maybe even some meals while we relearn one another, while we grow in grace together and while we do the gritty work of becoming One again- one day at a time.

Blog Military Life

Love Is All You Need

We love sayings that are idealistic, in fact I have Pinterest boards and journals full of encouraging quotes, yet many times I have a hard time incorporating them into everyday reality. “Love is All You Need,” a popular Beatles song, has stuck in the hearts and minds of people for decades. I have a soft spot for the Beatles, my favorite band in high school. I even have a mug I drink coffee out of most mornings with these same words: “Love Is All You Need.” I love this saying because as a Christ follower, I believe love is the driving force for good in this world and the cornerstone of my faith.

We talk about love a lot as a military community– we say that love is how a man or woman is willing to give their life in service, and for some in sacrifice, for our Nation. Love is what got us married into the military in the first place, and love led us to become participants in this great adventure called military life.

But the reality of love isn’t rainbows and roses (can I hear the married people say amen?). As Followers of Christ, love in the kingdom isn’t about what you get. It’s about what you can give.

Yet, some of the messages we perpetuate in our community is that we deserve something more. Message boards and conversations abound where milspouses discuss how annoying the military lifestyle can be, how irritating our spouse’s job is or how civilians have no clue what we go through. While there’s a time and place for productive conversations to improve our lifestyle, most of what we buzz about is not building one another (or our communities) up.

1 Corinthians 13 says what love looks like the best way (from The Message):

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.

Love doesn’t strut.

Doesn’t have a swelled head.

Doesn’t force itself on others.

Isn’t always “me first.”

Doesn’t fly off the handle.

Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn’t revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth.

Puts up with anything.

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end.

I would say milspouses love fiercely, but let us do so by speaking grace and truth to one another. Let’s be a group of people known not for excessive complaints and comparisons, but for being LOVE to each other, and to truly spur one another to love and good works.

Here’s some ways I have struggled, and have had to open my eyes to the reality of love:

I’m so tired of every leave block being spent visiting family and friends, always driving to that part of the country and then everyone expects me to run around to see them. Instead of complaining about the inconvenience and cost, let’s change the script to read love. Instead, open eyes of love see that a visit home is enjoyed with all the quirks of family, because this might be the last time you play a game of cards with Grams. I’m happy to drive home and then make moments to go here, there and everywhere to remind people who matter to me that I love them. Surely, love can sacrifice a tank of gas. We’re people willing to give our lives in service to our country. Let us be people willing to sacrifice small things, too. Even for our family members and friends back home. Because, love cares more for others than for self.

I’m so tired of hearing my civilian friend complain that her husband is on a 2 day business trip. My natural response would be to say big deal! I mean, I’ve spent 5 years apart from my man as he keeps *you* safe. I need to capture those reactions and filter them through love. Love doesn’t have a swelled head nor does it strut it’s stuff. Instead I can see my friend struggling with her spouse’s absence as an opportunity for me to encourage her, pray with her and reassure her that her doubts and fears are normal and natural. Instead of one-upping her with my stories of holding down the fort solo, I can bring by her dinner to relieve some of the stress in her day. Instead of playing comparisons, I can care for her in her time of need.

I’m so tired of my husband’s long work hours. Don’t they know he has a family back home? Instead of giving my husband a piece of my mind when he gets home, love says I shouldn’t fly off the handle. I cover his dinner plate and put it in the microwave. I tuck the kids into bed. Instead of reeling on my phone, posting on social media about my irritation with long work hours and excessively texting him to complain that I’m unhappy he’s not home, I use the time to pray for his work environment, leadership and comrades. I look for the best and take the extra moments of solitude as a gift, reading a book or calling a friend.

I can’t help but see that at the heart of all these thoughts, the concern is for *myself.* When I lean into the Kingdom, opening my eyes to see God’s love at hand right now, my perspective shifts. I cannot respond to the heart of God with a heart for myself. My response must be love- love for Him and for others. Love is all we need to keep trucking through this lifestyle. After all, love never gives up.

Where does your script need to change to read “love?” Love turns our problems into opportunities to let the Kingdom come, right now, on earth as it is in heaven.

Love isn’t easy. It’s always involves sacrifice. I sacrifice my impatience to be patient when Uncle Sam delays homecoming, instead of jumping on the spouse’s page to vent. I sacrifice my deployment horror stories to hear someone else’s story, even if it doesn’t hold a candle to my trials or tribulations. I don’t have to force myself, my opinions and experiences on others. My only charge and obligation is to love. I get to throw away my scoresheets and build loving, safe places.

I want to build and participate in a community that doesn’t look back, but only looks forward. I want to live in base communities that care more for others than encouraging us to stay stuck in our own loathing. I want my milspouse friends to speak love and truth to me in all the trials that will come my way in this lifestyle. God is trustworthy in the ebbs, flows and unknowns. Love is, and can be, all we need to live this crazy, hard and refining lifestyle.

Blog Military Life

Living In-TENSION-ally

No one can relate to feeling like a stranger in a foreign land more than the military family. While some of us quite literally have moved to foreign soil, we inevitably move to new duty stations every couple of years. We learn to be “Semper Gumby,” ever flexible and adjusting to different communities and cultures, different regions and climates. While it’s pretty incredible the government foots the bill to relocate our families for each adventure, PCS season comes with considerable fear and trepidation.

Boxes galore, paper in every form, little numbered stickers of many hues (because we never removed the last set), more pizza than you want to see ever again in your life. It’s here. Again. And for many, it leaves us bone-tired just thinking about it. Welcome to PCS season!

If you’re in the throes of this season, the stress and tension PCS creates are real. It takes a noticeable toll on families as we pack up life as we know it, watch our children say goodbye to their best friends, close out our obligations and have Hail and Farewells. We leave one place emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted, arriving at the new place with little rejuvenation. And when we set feet in the new land, we’re stuck between life as we knew it and the unknowns of what’s to come.
The tension of being out of place, in between homes or in a new place leads to varied reactions. First, we can separate from people, feeling the effort to get to know people is worthless since you’ll be ripped away again eventually. Or maybe you’re a “blender-“ you adapt to the people you’re in proximity with for a season, even if they’re totally different from your last crowd.

Problems arise from both dichotomy’s as we transition from one place to the next. Separating from people leads to isolation, which can lead to depression, anxiety and many other issues. Not to mention the practical things, like who’s gonna be your emergency contact at the CDC if you don’t get to know anyone? More costly, we lose our ability to influence our community with our gifts and talents when we isolate. We likewise forfeit this same influence when we blend in, being fearful to step out in faith and be the hands and feet of Christ.

As people of faith, though, we should be quite comfortable feeling like foreigners in a temporary land. We are sojourners together at the foot of the cross.When Jesus walked the earth, he didn’t separate from people and he didn’t blend in. Instead, He lived life in the tension. He loved people in their mess and mire. He engaged with doubters and sinners with humility and servanthood.
The same applies to us in our change of station- we have to get comfortable with the tension if we ever want to find the joy in military service. To live intentionally for us really means living in tension. Jesus, in all his righteousness, still inserted himself into the things of the world- the hurt, the pain, the suffering. And if you take a quick glimpse around our bases and units, boats and squadrons, housing community and clinics, the hurt, pain and suffering is ever present.
You have a mission, dear family, during this PCS and it’s simple: get in the tension of your community and be the hands of Christ.

Who’s sitting around your table, discussing the realities of faith and praying for you? Find those people at your new duty station. Many avenues exist to find them, such as base Chaplain programs, Chapel, PWOC, IF:Table, local military-friendly churches and the list goes on. Gather together with your people often, then go love your community. Be in-tension-al! Let’s change the atmosphere of our bases and be a people known by love, shining bright. Let’s roll up our sleeves and get into the hurt and pain and suffering in our community, while being ever sustained by faith, hope and love of a different Kingdom.

While we may not be pumped up to pack up and leave our friends and routines, homes and schools, we can look expectantly at the new places ahead, where the tension will be. It will be difficult. It might not always feel worthy. But we must find our people to encourage us to remember: this is a temporary home, like all the rest, and someday we’ll have a permanent residence, with no PCS orders to come. And I want the people I spend a few years with here and there to be in eternity with me. Can you imagine that block party? I’m down. Are you?

God knew how hard this calling would be for His people. So when the church was birthed in Acts, He emphasized the importance of community. He gave us his Spirit to dwell within us to enable us to have unity. To sustain in-tension living, we must also be devoted to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and prayers (Acts 2:42). The early church was devoted to one another. They were aware of the happenings in their community because they lived in the tension. They met needs for one another and then they met needs outside in their local community. Sacrificial love happens in authentic community.

Blog Military Life

Hurry Up & Wait

As military families we are well acquainted with many colloquialisms. A favorite of mine is “hurry up and wait.” We understand waiting because it’s woven throughout the necessity of serving our Nation. Waiting goes along with the training, field operations or work up missions for the service member. And it’s no secret that families definitely learn to wait when deployment orders are executed. Four years of my life has been spent waiting on deployment to end!

We are familiar with waiting in lines with a number in hand for our turn to get an ID card, for our commissary deli meat order or for our prescriptions at the pharmacy. Even more nail-biting, we wait to see if we got seats on a Space-A flight! We wait regularly for gate traffic, medical referrals from our PCM, base housing availability or that EAS date.

We are people accustomed to waiting- masters, indeed! And yet most people would say one of the hardest things in this lifestyle is the WAITING. We hate to wait. It’d be so much easier to just *know* when homecoming will be, what’s our next address, if our spouse will achieve promotion, what school our children will transfer to. We like the sense of control knowledge gives to us.

We go to lengths to eliminate waiting from our everyday lives. We grab Chick-Fil-A from one event to the next because we don’t have time to wait. We snap pictures of life and upload them to social media- hello, INSTAgram. We like days without delays and moments without pause. But waiting will always exist no matter how many remedies we try to create to eliminate it- a reality most felt in the confines of this military life.

God has a lot to say about waiting, too. In fact, the scriptures are full of the theme of waiting. Moses waited40 years in the desert before helping Israel become free from Pharaoh. Joseph spent seven years in prison innocently before being exonerated from a crime he didn’t commit. Jesus even waited 30 years before entering public ministry.

When I’m in the thick of waiting for things, I always question the Lord. The first question is WHY do you make us wait? And most of the Christian answers I’ve heard are because God wants us to grow in trust or faith or endurance.

But what if waiting is less about the end result and more about the process?

Waiting is the ground where we commune with Christ. Jesus teaches about waiting in a well-known story called the Prodigal Son. (Unfamiliar? Google Luke 15:11-32) In the account, the Father prepared for his wandering squandering son’s return home after he cashed in his inheritance and traveled to far lands to have some fun. When the son eventually came home, broken both financially and emotionally, the Father threw a big party and served a fattened calf to the guests! But as the Father waited for his son’s return, He fed that calf, cared for it and helped it to grow until the feasting day arrived. Additionally, he kept his son’s robe and family ring when he left, resisting the urge to take it to Once Upon a Child for store credit. While He waited, the Father lived his life in patient expectation for the hope of throwing his arms around his son to welcome him home, placing his robe and signet ring back upon his beloved.

Maybe we wait because the Father in the story- who parallels God- waits. God wants us to go through seasons of waiting because he wants us to become more like Him. He is known as Patient and Long-suffering.

The season of wait you’re experiencing now, whether it’s your spouse’s return from deployment or work ups, for orders, for household goods, for restoration in your marriage… Whatever you are waiting for- God is waiting with you. He waits with you because He is in the waiting.

Waiting doesn’t have to be approached as fruitless or pointless or annoying- rather, it’s a stopgap in our hustle to encounter God. He is the gift during our times of waiting. Just as He fed the calf and grew it, He can feed our souls and grow us to greater maturity in our faith until the waiting ends and a new story unfolds. Waiting is a place of preparation and growth, where our character becomes less like me and more like Him.

Let’s not be swift in wishing waiting away, instead let’s press in and unwrap the love hidden in the process. We can wait like the Father in the story, because who doesn’t love a good story about a homecoming? Homecoming sings hope to our hearts after the long wait of deployment or training or PCS or rocky marriage seasons. Waiting beckons something deep- an emergent celebration of joy, a glimpse of the everlasting Kingdom. And at the end of the 3 missed anniversaries year after year, the Christmases apart, we can finally say “it was worth the wait!” Because He was with me when I was waiting and waiting made me more like Him.