Notes 2 Grow

Tell Me When

2010-02-23T11:58:00Z

Drag your thoughts away from your troubles... by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it. ~Mark Twain

You have to wonder what the powers that be are telling you when a blog is written and then eaten by cyberspace never to be seen again.
That is what happened with the original "Tell me When", which I slaved over and shed tears writing and then lost on one of my most frustrating mornings. How ironic that it was the blog which expounded on all the things I was looking forward to being over and all that I've endured that I wanted put to rest.
The truth is, I'm a volunteer. Always have been, always will be. Once you get settled into a community and begin to volunteer, people learn to seek you out. This isn't always a good thing. Just like Mikey would always try something new in the 70's, you can count on Pam to volunteer to do it if nobody else will. That is what drove me to "Tell Me When".
I wanted to know when the coast would be clear and I could once again have my life back.
My friend calls my illness "Helium Hand". This is what occurs when someone says, "Who wants to?". My hand raises like a bunch of balloons on a beautiful spring day. "I'll do it".
I'll do it leads to months of planning for a huge event, which I had no business being a part of. I'll do it leads to me waking early every morning to pursue my masters degree because someone wanted to give me a grant for my education. I'll do it means I've committed to sewing not one but two quilts before May graduation. I'll bake the cookies, I'll shuttle the kids, I'll do the thank you notes, I'll take the baskets home, I'll deliver the table, I'll input the data, I'll train the other volunteer. You get my drift.
But today, after the event is over, after the large paper that was due for school is turned in, after I had a glorious hour to walk on the beach with my love because other things could wait, I'm thankful.
Life is crazy. Life is chaotic. Life is breakneck and reckless and filled with purpose. That is what happens when you live the life of a volunteer.
I started out wanting someone to tell me when this busyness would be over so I could go on with my life. Thanks to a computer who ate that blog, the answer is already here. That busyness is my life and it is rich.
The way I see it, there is no other way to live.

Soaking Them In

2010-02-07T11:17:00Z

"I think your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that." ~Lauren Bacall

I have found that there are days when my mind wants to freeze the moment and save a mental picture of the people I am with inside my heart. These days naturally occur when you have a loved one who has profoundly touched you. The first day of each of our children's lives, the day I said "I do" to my husband, the friends who have been by my side during the hard and great times. These days also occur when you know your time is short. When my mother's cancer returned and was incurable, I spent days reading to her and looking at her sleeping face in the sun. My mind knew that my heart needed to forever remember her face.
Times like these sometimes catch us off guard. A few weeks back I was at a conference with a slice of my team to provide conference support. Everyone knew this week would be a busy one and potentially full of chaos and stress. They all signed up. Tasks were delegated, systems were put in place and the week went off without major issue. We had only fleeting moments when we could sit and talk together and those were precious. On the last night before we all traveled home, there was a time where everyone shared their best practices with each other. When the first team member stood and began to talk, that feeling washed over me.
"Soak them in...."
"Your heart demands it"
Remember these faces...."
"These are important people to you"
Thank goodness I was in a dark part of the conference room because I can only imagine what that mental exchange looked like. As they talked, each one of the team, and the ones sitting and listening, I watched. Their beautiful faces lit up with passion for their jobs. Their voices as they spoke about the people they serve. Their laughter as they connected with each other.
Long before my mind registered how invested I had become in this team, my heart knew and it demanded an imprint.
So, I soaked them all in and now that we are working so far away from each other I have them here in my heart.
They are in my mind's eye and I am blessed.

P.S. To my incredible team, thank you. You are amazing people doing extraordinary things in a world that so desperately needs you. Thank you for your dedication and passion. I am incredibly honored to be a part and you have impacted me greatly.

How to Save a Life

2010-01-21T08:38:00Z

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not." ~Dr. Seuss

     I am officially at the age where our oldest child doesn't listen to me anymore. The minute I begin to impart wisdom and knowledge I can see the door to his brain shut and his eyes glass over. I don't know when this happened, but I'm so thankful I saw it coming.
     I knew he would stop hearing me sooner or later so I laid traps. Well, they aren't really traps, per say, as much as they are wise trusted adults that are strategically placed in his path that he does listen to. They are his teachers, his best friends parents, and many family friends who stand at the ready to guide and mentor him.
     Most recently, our teenager has been coming home and imparting the wisdom of his health teacher who also was his first football coach. He exhorts us about our caloric intake, the teen preaches about salt and carbs and the importance of the largest meal being lunch, he tsk tsks at me when I grab a piece of chocolate. Thanks to Coach, our son is eating better and more conscious of his fitness level. Never mind that I have been saying the exact same thing for over a year. The teen doesn't listen to me, but he does listen to Coach and for that I'll be forever thankful.
     Over a year ago I met a gentleman at a training who was a friend of a friend. His daughter was in her last year of high school and had fallen into the wrong crowd because of a boyfriend. This man was worried for his daughter and had hoped I could talk to her, be a listening ear and a mentor. She mentioned at one point to her dad that military service interested her and he felt my military understanding as a spouse would draw her to me because she no longer listened to her parents advice. He also hoped that as the mother of children I'd be an ally in his camp, one of those "traps".
He was sure he would lose her if something didn't happen soon. I gave him my business card and he promised she would call.
     The call came yesterday. Out of the blue, my phone rang and the voice on the line was his daughter. She is in another state, far from home, and realizing that what her parents said may just be right. We talked about how she is, we talked about where she wants to go in her life and we talked about how to get her there. Most of all I listened.
The last thing she said before we planned to talk again was that she had kept my card and that she was so happy she did.

When I hung up the phone I looked over at my teenager and two other precious children and thanked the Good Lord for Coach and the many others in their lives. Listening and being there, even when you least expect it, that is how you save a life.

Swinging Through

2009-12-27T12:07:00Z

"Excellence is not a skill. It is an attitude." ~Ralph Marston

I love watching the show about "Diners, Drive Ins and Dives" on the food channel. The host, Guy Fieri, has the fantastic job of scouring the country looking for the best food in diners, drive ins and dives. On the last episode I watched, Guy had found this amazing hole in the wall joint on the West side of Chicago. Guy ate his way through the menu, pot roast open faced sandwich, turkey BLT, and even the donuts with mocha dip. Every step of the way we were able to see how things were made and then get to watch as patrons and Guy just melted over every bite. At one point, Guy looks at the chef/owner and says, "You swing through every pitch!". What a complement!
In the game of baseball, when you are the hitter, your primary job is to connect the ball with the bat. The pitcher pitches the ball and you hit it and then run. I believe it is natural for us to visualize the spot where the ball and the bat will meet and then try to make that exact connection happen. As the ball flies in over the plate, we swing to meet it. That is the goal, after all, to hit the ball. The true greats, though, know that the magic is when you see beyond that point of contact. The true greats know that swinging through the pitch means knocking the ball into the outfield. If you perfect the swing, you hit the ball with a greater force and you send it flying over the outfield wall. The difference is in seeing just the connection of the ball to the bat, or of considering the hit as a whole with everything you have ~ power, timing and technique.
Our Chicago diner chef saw every recipe, every plate, every sandwich with everything he had and in doing so he swung for the fence. You could see it in the faces of the patrons at his tables, their eyes dancing with delight. You could see it in Guy's face as he bit into every meal he tried. Whether we are at home plate, the drawing board or the cutting board, we can all swing through and visualize the outfield wall. It isn't enough to just make contact. Excellence is about reaching for the fences.
Today, I'm working on my swing, and I'm keeping my eyes on that outfield. Nothing less will do.

The Golden Ball

2009-12-24T13:08:00Z

" A hundred years from now, it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove... but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child." ~ Anonymous

We were shopping in one of those mega stores the other night, you know the ones, floor to ceiling stocked with all of the items you see that you have to have on tv. The lighting is appealing, the smell of the place is appealing, the layout of things is appealing, it feels like a panacea to all things that are wrong in the world when you are in this type of store. I'm wise to these places though, and I had already briefed my husband, daughter and aunt when we hit the parking lot. "We are going in for our coffee brand, the holiday special ones, and nothing else. It will be a quick operation, don't be lured by all of the stuff in the aisles." I said.
That worked for about fifteen minutes. We rounded the candle corner, (which smelled like fresh baked cookies, darned them), and found our coffee. We loaded our arms and started to walk away when a cute, chipper salesgal brought us an oversized shopping cart. "You'll want this for all of that coffee", she said. My inner voice was screaming, "NO!", because free hands can pick up more stuff, but the glimmer in the eyes of my husband, daughter and aunt as they dropped the boxes of coffee showed that it was obvious they could care less about my inner voice.
So shop we did. Deeper into the store we went, where the riches of all the things we don't need were so abundant. The new bedding, the soft towels, the knickknacks and pictures and goodness no, the quotes in frames. We were three fourths of the way out of the store when we came upon a display of oversized bouncy balls. Immediately, my husband and daughter began bouncing them. The box did say it would bounce up to 50 feet, and I saw my husband judge the ceiling height and deem it possible, so bounce they did. The minute the balls began to climb, the chorus of "We have to have one" began. I was doomed. So I waited. Maybe if they would bounce them here in the store they would get it out of their system and see the ridiculous nature of wanting to buy a $7 ball. maybe if I stood here long enough they would return those balls to the display case and we could get out with the original purchase plan in tact.
Maybe, I thought, (as I stood there trying to be patient) maybe I should just grab the one with the golden glitter in it and start bouncing it myself. In the middle of the display sat this beautiful hand sized ball with golden glitter and liquid inside. The glitter all settled to the bottom, it just begged to be played with. So I bounced. As I bounced the ball the glitter shook and danced and shined and the ball just sang with beauty.
We bought five balls, one for each child's stocking and one for each of our offices, my husbands and mine. Mine , surprise, is the gold one.
The golden ball sits on my desk for those moments when I need to think. It bounces well while I sit in my chair, when I throw it in the air and spin it, the glitter shines. It is therapeutic, it is glorious, it is fun!
Several days ago, when work ran late into the evening and I had lost track of time, my youngest child came into my office and quietly picked up the golden ball. Without me knowing, he laid on the floor next to my desk and rolled the ball to my feet. Once it hit my ankle I looked down and then over to realize that he lay there, with puppy dog eyes and a wry smile.
Without a word, I rolled the ball back. For a glorious undetermined amount of time, I played ball with the baby of the family. We laughed, we talked, we tried to outwit each other, all the while keeping the golden ball shining. When he was done, he stood up, came to my chair and gave me a really big hug. Then just as quickly as he came in he put the ball down and he walked out.
There will always be days when the original plan is the best one to stick to. There will always be days when a schedule is a good thing and staying on track is necessary. But the beauty of it all lies in the ability to take a break, enjoy the moment, seize the opportunity, be there for those you love and for goodness sakes ~ Play.
The golden ball, and the baby of the family, they are calling for me ~ and today, that is really what matters most.......

Facing the Music

2009-11-04T13:56:00Z

All problems become smaller if you don't dodge them but confront them. ~William F. Halsey

The school librarian has been stalking me. In a good way. Several months ago she mentioned that our children have confided in her about their fears of their father leaving again. She used to be married to a military man and her compassionate heart and wonderful listening has been a true blessing to my kids. I thanked her for her friendship to the children and reaffirmed the hardships that they have experienced at such a young age. Then I kept walking. I really try not to have time for her because I don't like crying in public, plus it doesn't fit into my schedule to deal with the deployments that are so very two years ago. She is wise though, as all librarians are, and persistent and she kept stalking me.
The next encounter she asked for forgiveness as she contacted the base for insight from their librarian and had requested materials for the kids so they would be supported through their fears. She said something about how the military families at our school would benefit greatly from this support, which translated into us because we are the only military family with younger children. I thanked her for the hard work and continual consideration and then rushed off again. To cry in my car on the drive home. Because I don't want anyone to see how frustrated I am that these damned deployments still affect our family.
It wasn't until two weeks ago that I realized I have a long way to go. It was lunch time, and I had come to eat with the kids. She was there reading to the students and she nonchalantly told me that the packets from the base were upstairs, along with some books we could check out. She'd put them on the table for me. I didn't have to go look if I didn't want to. And then she said what I really needed to hear. "Military kids are special, and they need to know it." Reluctantly and alone I walked to the library. There on the table were Military Kids packets with books and a beanie baby and a video inside as well as some books to check out. "H is for Honor" and "My Daddy is a Hero" and "I'm a Hero Too". And that is when I promptly lost it. Sobbed like a baby.
The truth is, I've been running from being a military wife with my children in my proverbial arms and my family on the line, I've been running. I don't go on post because I can't stand the sight of it. I don't shop the PX or the Commissary because the lines and the queuing and the structure of it brings back some really tough memories. I don't want to see a mother and children wearily shopping and to wonder if they are in the middle of their year plus time without their loved one. I don't want to know the faces of the people who are suffering through those days. In my minds eye I carry the faces of the families that I persevered with, the families that I comforted and comforted me. The friends,moms and children who piled into my house on Thanksgiving and Christmas Days to try to make the most of the hardest times.
There are phases of grief that family members go through during deployment. Each phase is unique and each is necessary, even if you don't spend a lot of time in one phase. Somewhere between denial and acceptance I skipped through the anger phase. I know why, I didn't have the luxury of pounding my fists on anyone and I felt that too many people were watching me to see how to survive their deployment, so anger wasn't an option.
Unfortunately, and fortunately, it is time to face the music. Emotions run deep when it comes to the journey we have been on and only choosing the happy thoughts has led to a lot of pent up anger. Anger that has cut the children off from experiencing the great side of being a military family. I've got a long way to go, but I'm taking strides to get there.
The Military Kid packets had some workbooks in there that our children really have enjoyed going through. They can write their feelings and talk about their pride and frustration and they can move on with the years that are ahead. Thanks to our librarian I'm doing the same thing. Not a moment too soon.

You Have to Laugh

2009-10-14T09:49:00Z

"So many tangles in life are ultimately hopeless that we have no appropriate sword other than laughter." ~Gordon W. Allport

It was one of those weekends.
My mother in law came to town for her birthday. Almost twenty years and three children later, I'm still at the point where I want to impress her with how perfect my life can be. I want to be the perfect wife to her son, mother to her grandchildren, baker of birthday cake, keeper of the home and now successful professional. Up until Friday afternoon, I had convinced myself that I had her believing me.
Friday afternoon we are doing the "pick children up loop" and are patiently waiting in the car line for the two younger children and a friend. As we scoot the truck forward the middle child comes into view holding a multicolored monstrosity of a thing that I soon found out was a hamster cage. This is when my mother's mind went into panic. I remember signing forms at the beginning of the year, I remember middle child begging incessantly for the chance to bring the class pet home one weekend. I vaguely remember caving in. Wasn't there a "not on mother in law weekend" clause? Didn't they realize this was my biannual inspection? Just about the time I was coming up with good reasons why we could not hamster sit, the middle child spotted the car. With all of the excitement of a nine year old, she smiled and held up the cage, absolutely delirious that her name had been chosen for the hamster.
Thus began the weekend of adventure. Yes the hamster was cute, yes it was stinky, yes it poops a lot, yes we cleaned the cage - twice, yes it came to the house without back up food and bedding. Yes it only gets on the wheel in the middle of the night, yes it throws it's bedding out of the cage and I couldn't tell you how.
And YES, it escaped. On Saturday morning, two sips into my mandatory cup of coffee, my brother realized that the cage was inhabitant less. As the house slept I searched. As I searched, my precious coffee chilled. We found him, affectionately renamed "The monster", sleeping soundly behind the china buffet.
Yesterday, after safely returning the monster to school, I returned home to my mother in law and no trace of the insanity that was our weekend. We brewed our coffee, we sat around the table and we breathed a sigh of relief as only mothers can. And then we laughed.

More Than a Win

2009-09-24T10:17:00Z

"Sport strips away personality, letting the white bone of character shine through. Sport gives players an opportunity to know and test themselves." ~Rita Mae Brown

We are in that treacherous time in our house where Baseball, Softball and Football season collide. On any given night I can have somewhere to be to cheer on all three children at the same time on different fields. Recently, I was blessed to only have one game to attend and I took the Baseball and Softball players with me. It was game three of the varsity season and our oldest was dressed and ready to play. The game before had been a disappointment with our team losing and our teen not getting any playing time. After sweating in the Florida heat for a week during practice, he was upset and angry and disappointed to leave the field with his uniform unscathed.
We built up our dejected teenager and sent him back to the field with an assurance that he would play this game. His glasses were replaced with contacts and my mother's heart hoped that there wouldn't be another night of picking up the pieces. Our son did play, a lot. His contacts allowed him to see the ball so much better and he made some incredible plays out there, especially for a freshman.
The thing that meant the most was not a play so much as what happened after it. Our team kicked the ball and the opposing team returned it. Around about the 20th yard line, our son tackled the receiver and caused a fumble. His hustle and drive to stop that runner caught even me off guard. My first thought was pride and my second thought was for the mom of the kid who was now under our child on the field. He was knocked hard by our giant of a teen. In an instant, our son stood up and reached a hand down to the player he had tackled. Gripping hands, he lifted his opponent up off the ground, patted him on the shoulders and trotted off the field. Off to the Gatorade, off to the bench without a thought of his actions.
Winning isn't everything. The most important thing about being on the playing field is learning who you really are. Being on the field helps you know what you are made of. On this night, the unconscious action to pick up a man when he was down, even if his jersey wasn't the same color allowed me a beautiful insight into the young man we are raising.
The way I see it, that is a win of a whole new caliber.

Walking With Giants

2009-09-03T06:03:00Z

"If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." ~Isaac Newton

I met some friends of a friend for dinner the other night. As luck would have it, I was invited to dinner with a friend with a promise that the woman I would meet was amazing. "You have to meet her, Pam." my friend said, "she is an incredible lady and you two will really like each other." No truer words were ever spoken.
You know when you are in the presence of greatness. From the moment we said hello, until the very last hug goodbye, I knew I needed to soak in my time with this lady and her husband. Humble and everyday people, they spoke of their daily life and their amazing experiences like anyone could have lived them. We laughed about raising kids, we joked about grandkids, we shared war stories about taking care of military families.
This couple is extraordinary. Every time they were faced with adversity, they championed a cause. Every time they found a barrier, they built a bridge. In the face of tough times, they are a beacon of hope. Amazing. Amazing.
We hear the analogies about being a lighthouse for others. We have all heard the beat of the drum to let our light shine, or to let our footprints be a map for those who follow. This very forum of writing was conceived with the notion that others can grow from the motivation of the right words. Yet something that is so easy to forget is that we all need a moment to be encouraged. Everyone needs someone to look to help them remember their potential. Everyone needs a measuring stick to keep the bar high.
I met giants the other night. My time with them was a gift from a friend. As I sat with them and walked with them, as we talked and laughed my spirit was fed. There are incredible people out there. Take the time to find them and when you do sit by their feet and learn and listen and enjoy. These moments are priceless.

Many Hands

2009-09-02T02:50:00Z

"It is a fact that in the right formation, the lifting power of many wings can achieve twice the distance of any bird flying alone." ~Author Unknown

I had a menial yet important task to do yesterday that I have done before. It was one of those things that I've done a million times before for so many different causes. We all have these moments, the folding of the tri-fold or the making of the conference folder or the stapling of the handouts. The length of the task is dependent on the number of items that are due to be dealt with.
The last time I did this task it was a four hour process because the number needed was high. Yesterday, when I started my journey it was with a few friends and an expectation of hours of work. We did what we always do, we began to talk and laugh and joke as we made our hands busy with the task at hand. This time, a team of helpers came around. First a few, then a few more. Before I knew it we were surrounded by an army of volunteers all busily working on completing our assembly line.
As I worked, I discretely soaked in the conversation around me. We talked of our families, our jobs, our experiences. We challenged each other to work quicker, we joked at the level of commitment each other had, we critiqued each other's piles of stuff. While we talked the work grew lighter and lighter. What was supposed to last hours took only minutes. For so many who came out it seemed like too little to do and some of the team looked for more to make this time last.
That is the beauty of a team. When everyone comes together with an end in sight , the journey becomes the most important thing and the destination is just a matter of when everyone gets there. The task we had became a conduit to getting to spend time together. The conversation was so refreshing that the event became so much more than initially expected.
I'm thankful for the formation of incredible people that I fly with. Thank you team for the blessing of your time and energy and for the incredible things you do!

The One with the Keys

2009-08-29T14:02:00Z

"We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future." ~George Bernard Shaw

I remember watching the tv show "One Day At a Time" that had the family who lived in an apartment complex with the service man named Snyder. Snyder was cool in the seventies; he had a mustache and wore a white t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve. The coolest thing about Snyder for me was the huge key chain that he had. As a child, that key chain meant he was important, that key chain meant that he was in control of everything, that key chain showed responsibility.
I wasn't given a key to the house until I was in 7th grade. It felt like my parents gave me the keys to a car the day they trusted me with a single house key. I wore it on my neck like a prized piece of jewelry.
Fast forward to the forty year old woman that I have become. That single key has become a myriad of keys, many that I have no idea where they belong to. I have key chains and lanyards, a box of keys a bag of keys and rings of keys. I have a bunch of keys that go to my mom's house, a bunch of keys that go to our townhouse and a bunch of keys that go to our new house. Just recently we contracted a POD so we could move things out for our renovation, so now I have two shiny new POD keys to lock things in. The love affair with keys is officially over.
Yesterday I gave the keys away. In an unprecedentedly crazy day we sold one house and rented one. At the first meeting I handed over all of the keys for my mom's house as well as two garage door openers. The load was lightened. In the evening we jettisoned the keys to the pool the mail box and the townhouse along with two more garage door openers. For the first time in months I came home with only two garage door openers (to our house) and a few empty key rings.
I can't help but imagine that Snyder hoped a day like this would come for him. The person holding the keys is always on call. The person holding the keys has to keep their mind about them. The person holding the keys is the go to for everyone else. The excitement of the responsibility slowly fades away to the exhaustion and realization that so many people depend on you. The high of feeling important becomes the stark reality that you are more important than you ever really wanted to be. The thought that you might be in control of everything becomes the honest reflection that as people we can control so very little.
Today, my key chain is lighter and my load is lighter too. In honor of Snyder, I'm rolling up my sleeves (minus the pack of cigarettes) and I'm putting up my feet. Somebody else is on call, I'm on break.

There is no wonder why the show was called "One Day at a Time".

In the Blink of an Eye

2009-08-08T12:10:00Z

I met my 16 month old niece this week and was able to spend a few good days with my brother and sister in law. How amazing it is to be around a little person again and to reminisce on the times when our children were so itty bitty. With every step that Emma took I could see our now almost 10 year old Tori. The cute dresses, the hair clips the eyelashes that seem to go on for days, all came pouring back.
I don't miss the stroller and the diapers and the bags of snacks and drinks and everything that babydom entails, but I cannot believe how quickly it all became a thing of the past for us. Now, it is my little girl kneeling down beside her cousin and picking up the tossed drink cup. At one point during our visit, Tori proclaimed that watching Emma is way cooler than anything on tv. I couldn't have said it better myself. In fact, there hasn't been anything on tv that is more fun to watch since children came into my life 14 years ago.
The truth is that time does go too fast. It was yesterday when I marveled at our little girl while she slept. It was yesterday that the cute jumper outfits and hair clips were amazing on her itty bitty body. Today we shop for starter bras and we anticipate when the twin bed will grow too short to hold her ever lengthening legs. Just this morning I stared at her with her feet hanging out under her blanket and her body all askew on her bed and wondered how she has become the young lady that she is.
The answer is just as the Pajama Diary cartoon states, it happened in the blink of an eye.

Circle of Friends II

2009-08-01T12:33:00Z

"A true friend reaches for your hand and touches your heart." ~Author Unknown

I watched friendship in action this past week. Several of us were away at a conference when tragedy hit. A friend lost a loved one under horrific circumstances and she was with us states away from home. With her were many people from her state of Oklahoma who know her family, some of which have seen her family grow. In a matter of minutes as the news broke, this team of office mates and volunteers circled their wagons. They stood in support, they filled in to make arrangements to return their friend home, they prayed.
As the week went by, the wagons stayed circled. Everyone on the team started grieving, everyone on the team kept a close watch on each other. In the comings and goings of the conference, it was easy to forget the tragedy that still engulfed this contingent of attendees. Until the final night.
As conferences go, the final dinners seating chart had it's own nuances. I was granted the opportunity to sit with Oklahoma's team at dinner and they embraced me even though I'm from another state. Pictures were taken and conversations were lively as the conference drew to a close. When the Chaplain blessed the food, he asked a special blessing for Oklahoma as they coped with the loss. The team at the tables stayed strong. Everything wrapped up with a beautiful song and a benediction. I tried not to cry through it all, overcome by the business of the week and the energy of so many amazing people in one place. I opened my eyes during the prayer to focus on the people around me and to try to keep the tears at bay.
That is when I saw it. The team of people from Oklahoma were holding hands. Heads bowed, tears flowing, gripped together. This is the way they started the week, and this is the way they were going to end it, with their wagons circled. The beauty of true friendship is just this, through good and bad, you stick together and you make it through.
I'm honored to have witnessed it.
My prayers are with you all ~ stay strong.

Ride the Ride

2009-07-21T08:17:00Z

"It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself. " ~Joyce Maynard

We have been collecting a rather peculiar set of family portraits. It started with a flume ride in South Korea, with our good friends and our oldest child who was then four. The picture, captured on the ride, is of four adults and one very thrilled child, sliding down a water flume with the wind in their hair and looks of amazement and excitement. There are many of these types of pictures. Most recently, there are four with our entire family. The youngest hit a milestone this weekend by being old enough to ride every ride at the park. With much pomp and circumstance, we rode the rides. Once we finished, we headed straight to the photo shop to buy our souvenir.
You can tell a lot about our family by looking at these pictures. I'm inevitably the one with a huge smile on my face. I love the feeling of being on a ride. As the car clicks up the hill and prepares to shoot you into who knows what series of loops and curves, the knowing that whatever is about to happen is completely out of my control is a great reminder. All I can do is smile, and hold on for dear life, and keep my eyes open.
Vic is always in front. He likes to face fear head on with a smile on his face, as if to challenge it. There are no knuckles on the safety bars, there is no doubt, he is simply leading the way. Our oldest smiles too. He is subdued, sometimes he has his hands in the air, but mostly it is the look of freedom and adventure. Our middle child, the girl, always has her hands up. She will ride the ride to it's fullest every time. She is the first to want to get back on again. The middle child convinces us all that we want to keep going, then she reminds us that the picture will be priceless. The youngest of the family looks like he is saying something in every picture. When I ask him what he is saying, he inevitably tells me that is it an exclamation of joy. "This is Awesome." "Oh Yeah". I am sure he is trying out all of the words that he isn't allowed to say at home. Either way, he rides with his eyes and his mouth, wide open.
The family portraits of the subdued kind are beautiful in their own right, but I love the ones we are collecting. We are a family of adventurers. We are a family of thrill takers. We are a family that is in it for the experience and the journey, no matter where the ride takes us.

Family Strong ~ Nothing Less

2009-07-20T10:11:00Z

"They wear a different uniform; football jerseys, business suits, first pairs of shoes. Theirs is a uniform of strength. The strength to put a nation of families before their own. The strength of courage, integrity and sacrifice when the people closest to them are so far away. The strength of our soldiers comes from the strength of our families - together they are the strength of our nation." ~ Army Strong video

It dawned on me this weekend that being a strong military family isn't optional. From the very beginning of this journey with Vic, we've always committed to being strong. I've never wanted to settle for just getting by or for him having his career and me having mine. Separate paths sharing a home. The plan was always to do this military thing as a team.
The last eight years have been unprecedented for the military family. The engagements across the globe are taking a toll on us all in ways we could never have imagined. My family is no different. On more than one occasion in the last four years I have wanted to throw in the towel. My determination to support Vic's military career and everything that entails has been tested. There have been days that I have scoffed at the very video I'm quoting. Being a military family today is very hard. Being a strong military family today is even harder.
The good news is that we can do it. The kids will survive, if parents are educated to the signs of what children go through and how to help them through the tough times. Great programs out there make this possible. The marriage will survive if spouses and service members realize that the tough times are temporary and that bumps in the road are all part of the terrain. Great programs out there teach us this too. Looking back at the past eight years I realize that my family, and the families of those we hold near and dear are stronger than we ever thought possible.
We are resilient. We are tough, we are incredible and we can stay strong.
Nothing less will do.

To see the Army Strong video, click this link
http://www.army.mil/media/amp/?bcpid=6981683001&bctid=9222794001

All Stars

2009-07-15T11:55:00Z

"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world." ~Anne Frank

I watched the Baseball All-Star game last night and one scene keeps replaying in my head. The line up of amazing players was nice, the unfurling of the giant American flag was moving, the Stealth Bomber flying overhead was awesome, the President's first pitch was engaging but one moment stole the show for me. Amidst the pomp and circumstance, thirty everyday heroes took the field to be recognized. People just like me who have made a difference through volunteering were honored by the crowd.
There was the Soldier's brother, the handicapped teen, the knitting lady. There was the father who lost his son to cancer. Their stories were inspiring, their deeds amazing. As they stood on the field and looked into the stands of fans on their feet, their faces were amazed. You could see them mouth the words, "wow". You could see the tears well up in their eyes. I am sure none of them embarked on their volunteer journey expecting this day to come or even wishing for it. Yet there it was.
Then it happened. The line-up of baseball stars, the multi million dollar paid players of the sport, engulfed our everyday heroes. From where I sat last night, it looked like a hug. American League players from one side and National League players from the other, wrapped around the thirty in the middle. The All Stars of the game came around our moms and pops, brothers and sons to say thanks.
The best of the best were on the field last night for two different callings. Those who hit it out of the ballpark, those who steal home, those who win it for the team in the final minutes of the game. The baseball all stars. Those who put in the extra time when they see a need in our community, those who work effortlessly to champion the cause of those who cannot do it themselves, those who make a difference in our country in big and small ways. The volunteer all stars.
What a beautiful sight it was.

The Ride

2009-07-01T12:21:00Z

Those who can laugh without cause have either found the true meaning of happiness or have gone stark raving mad. ~Norm Papernick

I convinced my out of town friends to ride on the newest roller coaster with me a few weeks ago. There were five of us who committed to the adventure. As we waited in line for the ride, everyone's true feelings came out about what we were about to do. Two in our party were a little hesitant to ride the roller coaster. All of us remembered fondly the days when we didn't think through such an action but would just do it.
It's funny when you become a parent. There comes a time when you either designate yourself as the riding parent or the waiting one. The riding parent runs off into the great unknown with the tall enough, brave enough, excited enough child while the waiting parent sits with the bags and the stroller and the not tall enough, not brave enough, dejected child. I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but I became the waiting parent.
The other two in the party realized that they had become the waiting parent. With children and spouses nowhere in sight, we were free to experience the ride like we did when we were kids. Run through the gates, weave through the maze, concentrating only on our own emotions of it all. It was exhilarating.
As we queued up in our respective lines, three in one line and two in another, the friend next to me warned, "I giggle when I'm nervous". The visiting Scottish man in our line took note of this. As we pulled down the harnesses and placed our loose items in a bin, my friend warned again, "I seriously giggle when I'm nervous". The Scottish man looked at me with worry. As the ride inverted us onto our bellies and prepared to take off, the giggling started. The Scottish man looked dismayed.
The ride took off, up the incline, around the bend, and up and down loops. The giggling was tremendous. Halfway through the ride, my Scottish neighbor asked if I thought my friend would ever stop giggling and we both decided that wasn't a possibility. The loops and the curves were accentuated by my friends giggles and an occasional, "I can't see through my hair". Somewhere after backward loop number two,our whole row broke into laughter. As we took our last twist, the Scottish man put to words what I was thinking, "That is really what life is about, isn't it? The true laughter of joy, the time with friends." When we pulled into the rides end, my stomach muscles and my face muscles ached. My friends wanted to ride the roller coaster again.We left the ride feeling 20 years younger, with tears of laughter running down our face.
There is no greater blessing than the company of friends.
Life is an incredible ride, one that definitely deserves to be shared!

Harmony

2009-07-01T11:55:00Z

"Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open." ~John Barrymore

I have a love hate relationship with Toby Keith's song, American Soldier. When it first debuted, Vic was on his way out the door for deployment number one and it was our rally the troops song. We blared it in the car, the kids knew all the words, the families of our service members did too. I have a distinct memory of it playing on the radio as I drove into the commissary parking lot wearing Vic's camo uniform in preparation for our GI Jane day of activities. When I stepped out of the car, and joined the rest of the wives, that song metered my steps.
When the second deployment came quickly, I came to hate that song. The kids would ask for the radio station to be changed. It was a constant reminder that Vic's service to our nation came with a very real price for our family. The tears would roll again, not from pride but from the stark pain of him being gone.
Last week, we were piled into the car yet again, on our way to picking Vic up from a month long school. The kids and I were excited to see him and to share all of the happenings and progress of our time apart. There was an energized chatter of all of the things we could finally do now that our family would be complete again. The radio station was tuned and quiet as I listened to the children. In the background I heard the familiar first notes of that Toby Keith song and I began to sing quietly. I didn't want to interrupt the children but it finally felt good again to sing those words.
One by one, the children began to sing along. "I'm just trying to be a father, raise a daughter and a son. Be a lover to their mother, everything to everyone. " ... the youngest asked that I turn up the radio..." Up and at em bright and early, all business in my suit. Yeah I'm dressed up for success from my head down to my boots." Before I knew it we were all singing loudly and proudly again, like we used to in the very beginning. There was peace in the children's voices and smiles on their faces. The song had finally returned to the anthem it once was.
The beautiful thing is that time does heal all wounds. With years and much discussion, the hurt and uncertainty of the second deployment has passed away.
We walked into the airport with purpose and determination. We were a family with pride who couldn't wait to reunite with our Soldier. Our American Soldier.

Which Army Wife Are You?

2009-06-30T09:58:30Z

"Persons with weight of character carry, like planets, their atmospheres along with them in their orbits." ~Thomas Hardy

I had an acquaintance who knows little about the military ask me a question the other day. We were at a meeting at the school and about to start when she approached me with a face full of wonder.
"I've been thinking about you a lot lately, do you watch that show Army Wives?" she asked. When I answered that I did, she continued, " I have to ask, I have an idea, but I want to know which one you are most like?"
I have to admit, I'm a big fan of the show. There are scenes in every episode that I have experienced to some degree and it is eerie at times how the feelings for it all come washing back. There are times when I wonder how they put scenarios on there without asking my permission, it feels that personal.
I answered my friend with something a little like this ~
I could never pretend to be Joan, I don't wear the uniform and I cannot imagine what it is like to be both a military member and a wife and mother. I have dear friends who have done this and I hold them in the highest esteem. If everything in my life is in balance, I embrace the days like Roxy does. I'd like to live a little more like Roxy with energy and spunk and fire. I'm a lot of Pamela, the type of person who will champion the cause of the families in the military. She says things the way I think them but I'm not as bold to publish them that way. Pamela calls things as she sees them and she is a woman of action. I can relate to Denise, especially wanting to pave her own way. It is easy to get overwhelmed by the culture of the military and being a military wife. She lost herself to being the wife of a Soldier and remembered after awhile that there was more to who she was. I've been there too. I've been told I'm Claudia Joy. I can only hope to have some of her great traits. Claudia Joy has grace and wisdom. Claudia Joy is calm and chooses her battles. Claudia Joy loves her husband and family and friends beyond measure.
The truth is they are characters on a tv show that have been based on real people. Their characters are appealing to us because we can watch them navigate the world we live in. For some who don't live this military life, it's a window in. It's a representation of things that might happen in a world they cannot imagine.
All military families are a window in to this different world. I'm so glad my friend asked me who I was. It gave me an opportunity to be a real face of the military family to someone who lives so far away from it.

Nudging Left

2009-06-26T09:40:00Z

"If hunger is not the problem, then eating is not the solution." ~Author Unknown

I stepped on a bona fide scale yesterday to check my weight. I despise scales. At the doctors office, unless you are younger than 25, you can be sure that the scale will tell your story. For the past few years, the visit to the doctor, and the stepping on the scale, has been something I dread. You take off your shoes, you stand on the cold platform and then you wait for the weights to be moved. The heavier one, the 50 lb increment isn't too bad. Three clicks to the right, 150 lbs. I can live with that. It is the little pesky weight that really makes me angry. You can believe you are one weight, but that little bugger will tell the truth. There is nothing worse than putting it where you believe you weigh and then watching the pointer float to the top. That is when you have to nudge the single lb marker to the right until the pointer dips to the middle of the rectangle where it evens out to tell you your weight.
For the past several years, I've been nudging that weight to the right. I know that is bad, and yet I haven't been able to get it to stop. Blame it on age, blame it on injuries, blame it on stress, whatever the reason I was slowly moving out of a healthy weight.
It is amazing how quickly we can move away from center. Whether it is for work, or at home, with weight or finances, it is easy to slowly move away from where we know we need to be. The first late night at work when the rush of completing all your tasks lures you into forgetting your family, you find yourself nudging right. Grabbing the credit card for something frivolous and then buying into the belief that you deserve to have whatever you want, even if the budget cannot support it, you nudge right. Pouring that cold drink at the end of a stressful day and then another and another until you can't figure out where all of the alcohol is going, another nudge in the wrong direction. Whatever the scenario is, we have all done it.
The beautiful thing is when we figure it out and regain control. Life is a dress rehearsal where we are allowed to make mistakes. The only unforgivable mistake is the one where you don't learn a lesson from it. Sooner or later, you nudge right enough and you realize you have to get back on track. The clothes stop fitting, your family stomps their feet, your body cries "uncle", or the credit companies start calling.
I've finally begun stepping on a scale and nudging it left. It was a long time coming and it hasn't been easy, but I've begun to right myself in the fitness department. It feels really good. It feels good to recognize the woman in the mirror. It feels good to put on clothes that fit loosely. It feels good to sit at a table and say a definitive "no thank you" to that fantastic dessert.
The choice is mine to make, nudge right and move farther away from the woman I know I can be, or nudge left and return to my very own personal best. It's an easy choice to make.