Builders of Bridges

I saw that someone found my blog a few days ago by googling "military girlfriend, why civilians suck".
I'm not exactly sure why google sent them to me. 

I was saying to a friend this past weekend that I have learned to be careful in my opinions and my broad judgments over the last several years. I have been humbled beyond words for the thoughts I have held strong to in the past, for the opinions I was brazen and naive enough to share. 

I was an  impatient "non-parent" who had strong beliefs on how children should behave. I know I have given harsh looks in the past, thought rude comments in my mind and sworn the awful vow of "my child will never".

God gave me an autistic child who teaches me what it is to love every single day. 

Humbled.

I was a twenty-something who strongly opposed this war, who act-u-ally verb-a-lized that a soldier could not possibly love his/her family because of what they "do to them" when they enlist. I saw no harm in saying such words, had no intense pride in our flag, and always thought - somehow in all of that thinking - that I supported the troops. 

God led me to C.

Humbled.

It wasn't just marrying a soldier that opened my eyes. It took much longer than the moments of those said vows. It was the patient and kind and grace-filled Army spouses that I met very early on in this journey. It was their pride, their intense, intense love for their soldiers, their absolute pain in joy that I witnessed.

It wasn't my first deployment that taught me. It wasn't my first R&R, my first military formal, my first "dependent" ID card.

It was these women who spoke without judgment. Who held their tongues until they could gracefully teach. Who smiled softly at my ignorance and showed me what it was to be selfless but fulfilled.

It wasn't until I stood beside my dearest friend as she labored without her husband there and watched her beautiful daughter enter into this life. It was witnessing that unthinkable courage, that tainted joy. 

It was the first time I knew the person the flag was at half-staff for. It was the first time I ran my fingers across the name on his uniform that was my name too knowing he might not come back to me. It was the first time I saw the most heart-searing pain in my husband's eyes when he took the hand of his friend's mother and walked her to his memorial. It was seeing my littlest little waddle into his daddy's arms a year after he left. 

It was through witnessing my spouse give all of himself for something greater than us. It was seeing the great burden he carried, knowing the great burden he carried, and suddenly understanding why he did it. It was his grace and selflessness and deep love for the people of this nation. It was intimately knowing the very beating of my soldier's heart. It was realizing that somewhere in all of this, his love for country was my love for country, his sense of service was my need to serve.

It wasn't anyone's anti-civilian words that made me strong in this life. It wasn't returned frustration that brought me to where I am. It wasn't clinging to the Army and separating myself from the rest of the world that allowed me to find joy. 

It was patience and grace, courage and understanding. 

I firmly believe that people react to the life we portray. That if we are to demand understanding and acceptance from our civilian counterparts, we must first demand that we give the same of ourselves to them. 

We can and must be kind and patient and grace-filled and open.  We must live in a way that shows the beauty in the sacrifice of this life. We cannot ask this country to recognize the sacrifice of service if we do not live in a way that serves. In a way that emulates the values we hold fast. 

I have been brought to tears again and again by the incredible questions and conversations I have received and had with civilian friends and acquaintances.
They have given me the most hope.
I have been humbled again and again by the reminder of the words and thoughts of my past that have allowed me to bite my tongue for a moment, to think before I speak. I have been blessed to see the outpouring of support and quest for knowledge and understanding from my home community. 

There is no doubt that that came from an open dialogue. From sharing this life. From sharing the journey.

I know there will always be hurtful words - I know because I have said them. I know there will be people who we think will never "get it". I know because I have been one.

For every military spouse that holds the mindset that "civilians suck", a brick is added to the wall that so often divides us. Choose whether you are a builder of walls or a builder of bridges.

Build walls and close yourself in. Build bridges and change mindsets.

I hope you choose to be a builder of bridges. 

Honor Them This Memorial Day

Every Memorial Day, people take the time to thank C and I for his service to this nation. The sentiment is beyond kind but that is not what this day is. This day - this weekend - is a time to remember the fallen, to remember their families. It is a day to mourn. A day to remember. A day to be grateful for the men and women who GAVE THEIR LIVES for your freedom, for your comfort. We celebrate them and mourn them. We are humbled by their incomparable selflessness - their complete sacrifice.

This weekend is a time to remember the dead. To name the fallen. To remember those they left behind - because there isn't a moment that they forget.

HONOR Them.

Who do you Honor today?

221 Days to Hug Mommy

If you spend thirty minutes with me - give or take - you will learn that I am a die-hard sports fan. I love my Saints. I love my LSU Tigers. And one of my best memories is going to Wrigley Field with my dad to watch the cubbies play ... well, lose ... but still. 

A photo popped up in my newsfeed today that Drew Brees shared of a female marine hugging her son. The back of his shirt said, "I have waited 221 days to hug my mom." 

It is a beautiful and heart-crushing image. It gives me goosebumps, brings tears.

Everything about that picture is beautiful. Everything about that picture is saddening. Everything about it is worthy of pride and honor. 

The most recent comment posted below the image (and there were over twenty-thousand) said "Mothers should stay with their children," and a little higher up, "What mother abandons her child for 221 days?" and more and more and more just like it. She was called irresponsible and unloving. That beautiful, beautiful image of pain and sacrifice and absolute joy was judged and twisted and dishonored. 

I don't have the words to explain my complete disappointment with the people who shared such hurtful and irresponsible words. 

It takes but a moment for me to be reminded that there was a time that I may have uttered them.

So often the images are of the men - the husbands and the daddies and the brothers. And while some will say the same things about a father leaving a child, it is nothing in comparison to the public beating our women who serve this nation take day in and day out. 

No soldier deploys for selfish reasons. No soldier wants to leave his or her home, his or her children, his or her world. No soldier strives for that. 

But each and every service member has chosen something greater. That doesn't mean they have chosen something over their children, their spouses. It doesn't mean they have chosen to put something in their place. 

Wars are not fought by childless men. Wars are not fought by childless women.

Military children hurt. There is no question. I have held two kiddos while their daddy boarded a plane to Kandahar. I have taken pictures of a daddy holding his new baby for the first time. I have watched friends' kiddos crawl to a man they had never met before. 

Military children hurt.

But, oh, how they thrive! How they learn to cherish and love! How incredible it is to see how much love they can hold, how quickly they can remember, how deeply they can understand that their family has chosen to serve a nation. How much they learn what it is to put others before yourself. How much our children learn to give to those who need, to cling to those around them.

Military families work hard to build a firm foundation. To give that to our children. Our children are resilient and strong and oh-so brave. 

They learn what service is from the best role-models children can have - their mommies and their daddies. 

These children are not abandoned. They are NOT abandoned. 

How strong the women who raise their right hands and recite the vows must be. How much they must hear and try like hell to ignore. How much it must hurt to have a stranger judge them. The stranger that they have sworn to protect.

Because someone has to. Someone must. 

To the service-women of this nation - you have my profound gratitude. You have my prayers. You have my support. 

I  know how beautiful that image is. I  know how much pain exists in the words "I have waited 221 days to hug my mommy." I know you are selfless. I know you love your children with the fiercest love. 

I know you are protecting them in a way so much of this world can't understand.

Thank you for having the grace to serve honorably, to love these children as only their mothers can. Thank you for your service - for your selfless service. 

Remember This Day

Remember the fallen, the heroes, the rescue crews. 

Remember the children of the lost, the widows and the widowers, 

the mothers and fathers who buried children. Remember.

Remember the soldiers who knew their lives would forever change

 the moment this was known to be a terrorist attack. 

Remember those who signed up on September 12th. 

Remember those who joined in a time of war.

Remember every soul that has been lifted up for the past 11 years beginning that day. 

Remember those still fighting to honor those who fell first and to protect those who lived since.

Remember.

I will never forget.

Unforgettable

9/11 Guest Post for the Homefront United

Regaining Sight

10 Year Anniversary post

Send Me

In less than twenty-four hours I have heard two "speeches" that made me wish I had found a way to record them. One at a military ball and another at church this morning. 

Both got me thinking and nodding my head and trying to commit certain lines to memory. The topics were entirely different, nothing overlapped, and I'm not even sure which I am going to talk about here. I cannot tell you how much I wish I just had copies of what was said but one was just speaking from the heart and the other I don't think would want me to knock on his door and request one. I don't think two-stars appreciate random army wives knocking on their doors but then again, I've never tried it. :)

C and I attended the Army Birthday Ball on post last night. We almost didn't make it because C hasn't been feeling well (of course, he refuses to go to a doctor) but we managed to get there and it was really fun night. I don't know if it was because I didn't understand in the past, or I just wasn't interested, or if the speakers weren't very good, or my mind was racing through other things related to that event or what, but for the very first time a guest speaker got my attention and kept it. 

So much of what he said is very much what I believe. So much of the wording and phrases and passion making up his speech are all things that I feel and say and trust in. 

He said that our soldiers - whether people acknowledge it or not - are in the middle (not end) of a major conflict. He said that our soldiers - no matter what people paint them as - are not victims, they are not forced into service, but that they choose to serve. They knowingly say, "Send me. I will go. I want to be part of something greater than myself." That they believe in what they do.

He spoke about the first men who stood up to defend an IDEA. The first men who risked their lives for something they believed in with every bit of their soul. The men who had everything to lose while trying to create something that had not existed.

He said the first soldiers were not just fighters. The first soldiers were dreamers first. They dreamed of a future of freedom. It wasn't just (less than) one percent that stood up like it is today. It was so so so many risking fortune and prosperity and comfort for the hope of guaranteeing a chance at that to their children, and grandchildren, and great-great-great-grandchildren.

They fought for us. They died for you.

How few would give up their luxuries and comforts and fortune to protect that of others. How very, very few say, "Send me." How very few understand that freedom is always at risk of being lost. Freedom is never guaranteed or certain. At no point can it go unprotected. At no point can it be made vulnerable. At no point can no one say "I will risk my own for the whole." 

Someone must be ready. Someone must have the courage and the faith to defend. So very, very few have made your today possible. So very few will allow for your comforts tomorrow. 

So very few.

The humbled few who say each day, "I will go. Send me." 

Valued

A while back I made the decision to moderate comments. I know that those of you who have been following for a while know that I have always allowed all comments to stay up - as long as they didn't degrade the American soldier or those they love. As long as they were not ill-willed they remained published. Even when they personally attacked my character and brought more into question than I could stomach, I kept them up.

I think all sides are important. I think all views carry weight. I knew that I was taking more on in my life and that I would not always be able to react quickly if someone posted something that didn't belong - that was hateful - and for that reason I added the moderation. 

About a month back on the post "Missed Understanding" someone - and it was Anonymous - left a comment to the effect of: If I believed in following rules and loved the Army so much why didn't I man up and serve. (And that is all paraphrased. I can't remember the exact wording but that's the gist).

I almost published it just to see what would happen. 

I went back and forth for several days about whether I would address it. Whether I cared. What it really made me feel.

I tried to think of who would have left it. A soldier? A spouse? A civilian? Who knows. It could have been anyone and hiding behind an "anonymous" always makes people feel powerful and brave.

I don't know how they found the post. I know it couldn't have been any of you. I actually laughed at one point reading it and debating.

The main issue is that I know there are service members and spouses who hold that view. That army wives like me hide behind their husbands. That we hold no value in the military community. That military spouses do nothing worthy of respect. That because our sacrifice is not the same it is not a sacrifice. 

I get that people think that. I have heard a young soldier say it. I have heard a wife criticize me for being involved and active and engulfed. I have heard multiple spouses say it actually and I can see it in the faces of soldiers from time to time. 

I hope that one day they have a change of heart. I hope that one day they see the value and importance of building a strong marriage, a strong foundation.

C's sacrifice is not the same as mine. What he gives and has given and will give are not the same as what I do and have and will. What he carries is beyond what I can know. What he has seen is beyond what I ever will.

There is never a question in that.

But those who stand beside their soldier - beside not "behind" - give. They give their joy and their sorrow, their strength and their pain. We give our patience and our understanding and our hope. We give our lives to men and women who give theirs. That is part of the sacrifice. That is of value. That is worthy. That matters. That serves the whole. 

We sacrifice. We give. We love. We persevere. We hold on when the world reminds us again and again that we shouldn't make it. That we don't have to live this way. That our life isn't "normal". 

I wear no uniform. I hold no rank. I put my hand over my heart when the flag is raised and lowered. I will never be asked to step foot onto a battlefield, or cling to a rifle, or carry a third of my weight on my back. I don't pretend to know what that can be like. I don't pretend to know what it is to see your friend dying beside you. I don't for a moment intend to equate my sacrifice and understanding with those who serve.

I will never say our sacrifice is the same. 

But do not say that the arms that carry those who serve lack value. Do not say that what we give is not enough to hold a claim to loving and serving a nation.

We love a nation strong enough to endure the heart break of giving the one we love most to it. We believe in service and sacrifice so heart-fully that we will endure the heart-wrenching pain of holding a child back who is screaming and reaching out for his father. Do not belittle what that takes. Do not question what I give. Do not question what the thousands of family members around me give without ever wearing the uniform. 

We matter. We know what it is to live for something greater. We give and give and give.

Ask any strong soldier who he fights for, who keeps him going, why he serves, why he stays focused, what carries him through. 

Ask him if his family sacrifices for this nation. 

Ask him. 

We do. 

Mourning

I know that Monday friends will post on my facebook page or text me to say "Happy Memorial Day" and to thank C for his service. 

It happens every year.

And I know that people mean well. It's hard to remember or to know what this day is about. I struggle with it every year. Yesterday C and I made it out to the outlet mall and took advantage of the "Memorial Day" sales - really took advantage. Today I picked up a set of red and white plates with stars on it and then put it back. 

Grills are on sale, patio furniture is discounted, grocery stores are packed. Everyone is getting ready for the big weekend.

People are gathering to "celebrate". 

I find that many times people think this day is equivalent to Veterans' Day or the Fourth of July. I cannot fault anyone for the confusion. Everything is marketed to party and to celebrate on Memorial Day. I didn't understand it before I lived this life either.

On Veterans' Day we celebrate those who have served - the living. We remember their sacrifices, their service, their selflessness. We remember them for what some of them may someday give. We shake their hands. We thank them. We honor. We celebrate their unbelievable sense of duty.

On this day, on Memorial Day, we honor the dead. We remember the fallen. We mourn, we say their names, we touch their grave markers. On this day the hands we hold are the widows'. The hugs we give are to the mothers and fathers who have lost a son or daughter. The tears we shed are for the fatherless and motherless children.

This day, we remember those who laid down their lives in defense of the nation. This day is to pray for the widows and the parents and the children. This day is to honor their fallen by supporting them, by loving them, by respecting the sacrifice. 

Monday - as we did the last Memorial day - our family will go to the wall at Fort Carson and silently read the names etched into the granite. Flowers and letters and favorite liquors will be left at the memorial. I never met a single one of these soldiers. I do not know their families but I have promised to honor, to remember, to recognize the sacrifice that is ongoing.

This day is hardest for the gold-stars. This day is hardest for those who relive the sacrifice every morning that they wake up without the other breathing, every night that they fall asleep without the other there. 

This day we must remember those they have loved and will always love.

If you spend this time celebrating, recognize the life that was given to allow you to - the thousands upon thousands upon thousands that have been given. Without knowing your name, without knowing your journey, before you were born, a soldier died to ensure your future.

REMEMBER them.

Remember those they loved.

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

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If there is a fallen hero you wish to remember please add their name to the comments.  

Life Changing

Hello, my name is Megan Williams and I am a volunteer for Delta Company. I am calling with a script. This call is not in regards to your soldier. I repeat, this call is NOT in regards to your soldier.

There has been a casualty within your soldier's unit ...

I cannot tell you how many of these calls I have made but I can tell you where I was when I made this set of calls for C's old unit. I was in the kitchen of another spouses house, leaning on the counter, crossing off one name after another. 

R was at the kitchen table, crossing off the names on her list. S was in her living room doing the same. Three phones. Three women. Three lists.

Name after name after name being crossed through.

This wasn't our company anymore but in every way other than on paper, it very much was. These were not my families anymore but they were the ones I knew first. These soldiers had been C's.

This call down was not mine to make - but I asked to help - because there is only so much you can ask from people. Only so many times they can make those phone calls. These families had suffered so much loss that they could recite the script with you, understood that answers could not be given, that what was in that script was all that we were allowed to say. They had received the same call so many times, throughout the entire twelve months.

I was twenty-three the first time I saw my husband come home after beginning the process of a casualty notification. Most of my friends were graduating after their 5th year of college when C called a father to tell him his son had lost both of his legs to an IED and was fighting to keep his arm. That soldier was the same age as me.

He lost both of his legs in an instant. In just one tiny, tiny second, they were gone.

Twenty-three. Fresh out of college. Fighting a war.

K - a reader - emailed me because she just went through tragedy within her husband's unit. One of his soldiers just lost his leg. Young, healthy one moment. Without a limb the next.

Her life changed when she found out. It wasn't her soldier. It wasn't his leg. But something changed. War became real.

And yes, war is very, very real to us. But once there is a casualty, a tragedy, a loss of life, of limb, of mind ... once we can grasp that, once there is that moment when it hits us, deployment becomes something else.

K said it felt like a loss of innocence.

She is so very right.

Certain things hold no value in our lives anymore. Certain things have no importance. How we see the world changes.

What we see other young people doing or NOT doing with their lives, suddenly frustrates us. What we see others placing value on, makes us want to shake them. What others take for granted, we know can be lost, and is lost daily on a battle field.

We know that these soldiers give and give and GIVE in ways so many cannot understand. The soldier C made the phone call for, STILL serves. He is still a United States Soldier who has given his legs for a nation.

The soldier K spoke of is at Walter Reed laughing and telling jokes and pushing through without his leg.


The strength.

The complete selflessness.

What they GIVE.

It is awe-filling. It makes me feel that I must do more. I must give more. I OWE them.

Because they give so, so much and ask nothing.


How few can understand. How many live their whole life without feeling this deep, soul-shaking  gratitude. How much we owe these men and women for just being willing to give -whether it is a cause you can believe in or not. Just the fact that there are people who - no matter the danger, no matter the very real possibility of loss - they will go.

There are men and women who will give all. Who are that selfless.

They walk among us, and live among us, and are ridiculed and misunderstood and protested against, with so few understanding.

Their resolve left unshaken.

It's life changing when you realize the goodness in these soldiers. It is life changing when you watch them walk again. It is life changing to know their spirits.

Life changing to know that such goodness gives so much for so little in return.

Acceptance

Over the last two days I have been in and out of training to become an ACS (Army Community Services) instructor. A friend of mine (one of the coordinators) thought I would be a good person to "teach" Army families.

We'll see.

While looking through the section of the AFTB (Army Family Team Building) lessons I have to mock-teach tomorrow, I began questioning if this is something I can do. I have never been one that can be reigned in to a script, to follow directions step-by-step, to "stick-to-the-program". It's one of my weak spots. 

The topic I was given - on the surface - seems like a perfect one for me. It is all about helping new spouses best understand what expectations are realistic and unrealistic when entering into the military life. I could talk one-on-one with a new spouse about the subject from the first boom of the cannon at reveille to the final boom signaling retreat. 

But none of it would be in the script. 

One thing here and another there, but most of what I would want to say wouldn't be what the Army put in print. 

People enter into this life with all kinds of different expectations. I entered into this life full of the negative thoughts, the stereotypes engrained in my brain, the "when will this be over?", and "why do I have to give up what I want?" I didn't support the military. 

No really, I didn't.

I didn't understand the life, the choice, but, man, I thought I did. I thought I knew it all. 

Some spouses enter into the journey with rose-colored-glasses, taking Army Wives the show to be the "reality" of the life. Falling in love with the uniform and then falling flat on their faces when they realize the uniform eventually boards a plane, enters a war zone, can't be home for dinner, for birthdays, for anniversaries, for bad days, to change a flat tire, to hold your hand while you undergo childbirth. 

It doesn't matter if you started the journey from one of the extremes or anywhere in between. Where you begin does not determine where you end. 

Every opinion I held about the military and the life it leads has changed. Every single one.

My mindset, my outlook, my hope, my joy, my everything came from one moment.

The moment I recognized and accepted the reality of this life.

It isn't enough to recognize that your spouse has given a vow to a nation that directly conflicts with the vow he made to you. It isn't enough to realize that a country's priorities will belong above your own. It isn't enough to recognize that your husband is a soldier.

It isn't enough.

It isn't enough to understand that he won't be able to work nine to five. It isn't enough to recognize that his job is twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. It isn't enough to understand that he is at all times a soldier first. 

It isn't enough.

You have to accept that when duty calls, you come second. It's harsh. It's hurtful. It is hard to say but it is true. When duty calls he will go. 

You must accept that you married a person who serves. You must accept that you married a soldier. Who will leave you. Who will ask more of you than what is asked of most. Who will not be there for your hardest of days, for your loneliest of nights. Who will ask you to keep a family thriving while he leaves you behind. Who will expect you to honor the vows, to keep your promise, while he keeps the vow he first made to the nation. 

You must accept that you married a man who cannot always hold your hand. Who cannot always give you the answers you want to hear or the place to live you want to live. 

You married a man who can never turn off his job. Who can never stop the call from coming down. Who at times will have to tell you, "I can't be there." 

The moment you accept that he can say these things, that he can leave you, that he can put someone "else" first, and at the exact same time he is still loving you, and honoring you, and protecting you is the moment that you understand, that you are truly open to the remarkable journey. 

Our society continuously tells us to put ourselves first, to do what makes things easiest for us, for me, me, me. You belong to the one percent that chooses to put everyone else above themselves. Who values everyone else's freedoms and liberties above their own. To sacrifice the luxury of time together, and comfort, and ease so that others may keep it.

You have been called to serve the nation beside your soldier. To love him, to honor him, to support his mission. You serve by accepting the life, by finding the joy, and by thriving along the journey. 

Understand the reality you are facing - a terrifying, harsh, difficult calling - and accept that you have been called.

There is so much joy in knowing that you are fully capable of beating any odds stacked against you. You are fully capable of thriving through, of loving through.  

Acceptance is key and you are ready.

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The blog was nominated as a "Best U.S. Military Spouse Blog" for the 2012 MilBlog Conference. If you are a supporter of TLAS I would appreciate your vote! You can find the nomination on the first page.. A few other nominating comments have been left but they are being deleted as there aren't supposed to be multiple comments left for the same blog.

You can vote by giving a "thumbs up" next to the nomination left by Erin. Please share the link to the voting if you would like! Thank you all for all the support you have given me and the blog! This has been such an awe-filling experience. : )

VOTE HERE

Honoring the Guard

There is a post by an new Army Spouse in Vermont that has the military blogging world turned all upside down. 

I just read it and I have to say I think my skin is smoldering right now with the blood boiling below it. I am sharing the link and I want you to read what she said first and then come back. You can't comment on her blog - and trust me, you will want to - because she has disabled the commenting option but I hope you will here. And I hope you share it and help share a message that our guard families need to hear after hearing the awful one she has to share. 

Now take a deep breath, make sure there are no heavy objects around that you may be tempted to throw at your computer, you may want to wait until small children are napping so that they don't worry about your facial expressions ... take a breath. Ready? Click HERE and then come back!


Update: Her blog has been removed, her soldier was reprimanded, and his unit issued a formal apology. This is a good reminder that what you do and what you say reflects on your spouse. And the rules in the military are very different from the rules in the civilian world. 


I saved what she wrote because I was fairly certain this was going to happen. I am sharing it here because I know that this is how a very, VERY small group of Active Duty Army Wives feel and there needs to be a lesson here. If you think the way this woman thinks, you are wrong. If you think you have some kind of right to belittle another branch or guard unit, you are wrong. If you think, in your wildest dreams, that YOU are somehow better because of the fact that your HUSBAND is an active duty soldier ... (girl, please!) ... You. Are. Wrong.


Here is what she had to say:
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Army Wife, Army Life

Stirring the pot...

I want to preface this entire post by saying that this is my blog. The views, thoughts, opinions, and statements are MY OWN. I feel that that gives me the right to express my opinion on whatever matters I see fit, if you don't agree with something that I'm saying, they make a couple handy little buttons. One is a red 'x' in the upper right hand corner, feel free to click it, it won't hurt my feelings. That being said...

Living in Vermont, there isn't a very strong Active Duty Military presence. 90% of the military influence around here comes from the Vermont National Guard. Oftentimes when I explain that my husband is in the Army, people automatically assume he is in the Guard. It's an easy assumption. We don't have an Army base here, we have Camp Johnson, a National Guard base. The Guard ACUs are almost exactly the same as AD Army, and many civilians (and myself) don't understand a lot of the differences in company patches. The Hubs was still assigned here, and we are still going to be sent away from here. If he hadn't been here, I wouldn't have met him. This is where my rant (of sorts) begins.

The Vermont National Guard is just that, they are State Militia. The Hubs is a Regular Army soldier. The National Guard spouses around here like to refer to themselves as 'Army Wives'. They aren't. They are wives of Guardsmen or "Guard Wife". I am the wife of an active duty, federal soldier.  That being said, the Hubs is not a Marine, he is not a Sailor, he is not an Airman. Call a Marine's wife an Army wife and see what happens.  They will correct you as quickly as I will correct you. A dog is not a cat, it'll never meow.

When you try to explain this to a Guard spouse, they get defensive, and often times throw a huge fit.

My husband is a soldier, he got deployed, just like yours!

I agree, your husband got deployed just like mine, but when he came home, he got to go back to a normal civilian life. When my husband got home, he still had to put on his ACUs and go to work, as a soldier.

I agree, your husband got deployed, just like mine, but when he came home, he knew he wouldn't get deployed again for at least another four years, in which time he probably wouldn't have re-upped his contract. When my husband got home, he knew he could turn around and get deployed again. Period.

My husband is a soldier, he has to go to drill!

Yup. One weekend a month, two weeks a year.

I can argue your points all day if you want.

I guess what I'm trying to get at here, is that I would really like people to stop jumping down my throat when I tell them that they are not an Army Wife. I'm not trying to imply that you're any less of a person. I'm not trying to imply that your husband is any less of a man. I applaud him for what he did, if he got deployed, and I respect him for that. I applaud him for the time that he does give up, on his one weekend a month, two weeks a year. I applaud him for going through BT and AIT. He is a member of the Guard, 100%, there is no denying it. He is not a regular army Soldier, you are not an Army wife. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

I'm just trying to point out the blatant differences between a Vermont Guard member, and a United States Soldier.

The second part of my rant is this.

As I said before, Vermont Guard is a State Militia... that still comes with responsibility, in uniform and out. As soon as he opens his mouth about being a part of ANY type of military presence, or dons his uniform, he has to realize that. That's part of what they bash into their heads at BT.

Part of YOUR job as a spouse, is to be a direct reflection of him. That means getting your facts straight, and getting educated. 

- Respect OPSEC and PERSEC when your husband is deployed. I see none of this when a Vermont Guard wife has a deployed husband.

- Respect the higher ranks. When I met my husband's 1SG, I made sure to put my best foot forward. I put on a nice outfit, did my hair, and put makeup on my face. Used manners; ma'am, sir, please, and thank you. I sat quietly and spoke only when addressed. If I had a question, I waited for a break in the conversation, and said 'Excuse me.' It's simple really. I see none of this when Vermont Guard spouses get together for an event with their spouses.

- Respect your husband when he's in uniform. Just because my husband and I aren't on post when he's in his uniform, I keep the 'handling' to a minimum. Technically, you aren't even supposed to hold hands with him when he's in uniform. I keep a hand on the Hub's elbow, or not at all. I don't sit on his lap, I don't make out with him, we hardly kiss for that matter. I see none of this when Vermont Guard spouses are together.

- Respect the uniform itself. Don't put it on and take sexy pictures with it, with boobs/butt falling out all over the place. That's just trashy. A fun picture with his cover on is one thing, flaunting your assests is another.

It burns my biscuits when these spouses, who so loudly (and rudely) insist that they are 'Army wives' can't even handle these simple types of things, that go along with being an actual Army wife. You're just making yourself and your spouse look bad.

I just want to re-state, that I'm not posting this to be disrespectful. My Uncle served in the NH National Guard, and did a tour in Iraq. I'm so proud of him for it! He wore the uniform well, and with pride. He isn't any less of a person because he wasn't active duty for the 4 years that he served. Be proud of your spouses for what they do, no matter if they are a member of the Guard, lawyer, doctor, or burger flipper at McDonald's. Spend less time trying to make yourself into something that you're not, and more time respecting others for what they are. You'll be a lot happier for it, I promise.

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How ya doing? Are you breathing? Did you bash in your computer screen? 

Okay? Yes? No?

Good.

My name is Megan Williams. I have been married to an active duty soldier for nearly five years [did you think it was longer? ; ) ]. At the age of seventeen he joined the Mississippi National Guard and spent his weekends at Camp Shelby. At the age of twenty-four he became an active-duty soldier.

He has deployed to Baghdad, Iraq and Kandahar, Afghanistan. He will deploy again to ... um ... somewhere ... sometime in the ... um ... future. 

I was born and raised in the incredible suburbs of New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived through Katrina. Humvee's roamed our ruined streets, were patrolled by guardsmen from Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama. Have you heard the horror stories from New Orleans after Katrina? Can you imagine some of the things they saw?

Anyway, here we go. 

As an American, let me first thank our National Guardsmen for taking an oath not only to defend the Constitution of the United States but to defend the constitution of your state. To not just fall under the command of a President and a nation, but of a Governor and a state. Because unlike the Army Wife who wrote such an awful post, I realize that your oath of enlistment varies in only one thing - you swear to both.

I, (NAME), do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States and the State of (STATE NAME) against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the Governor of (STATE NAME) and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to law and regulations. So help me God.

It is the same oath as an ACTIVE-DUTY AMERICAN SOLDIER but with the state and governor added. The very same oath.

And to think that they are not "soldiers" because they are "part-time". Come on, now. Do you really think it is easier to get notice one day that you will leave your civilian world, your civilian job, head over to a war zone, lose buddies (and do not think for a moment that guard units do not lose troops - don't. even. dare.) come back, take off the uniform, put on civilian clothes and return to the civilian world that has little to no understanding of the military sector. Do you really, seriously think that is SIMPLE? Do you really think it is easier to stand up for your nation and simply re-enter into it with next to NO services to help you do so? Easier?

Hell, no!

For the National Guard Wives - you ARMY WIVES - let me apologize for the words this new Army Wife has spoken. Let me assure you that they are no where near the words and thoughts of so many of us. Thank you for giving your husbands. Thank you for allowing them to leave suddenly, for something you may not have planned on. Thank you for making it through, and loving them and supporting them, with little to NO support around you. Thank you for patiently accepting the misunderstanding of a nation - and of ignorant spouses - who do not realize how difficult it is to live the life of a guard family. Thank you for living with dignity and for biting your tongue when you really didn't want to. Thank you for being the bigger person here.

Because she doesn't deserve that.

To serve is to serve. 

To serve it to give selflessly, to live for something greater, to give a life if asked. A terrorist's IED does not distinguish between Guardsmen and Active-Duty; bullets aren't just aimed at the men who are "full-time". That doctor who gives that one-weekend a month, two-weeks a year in your eyes, he may save your Active Duty husband's life some day - when he finishes his recruiting time. And I don't think your husband will give a damn if the patch on his arm belongs to a guard unit. Will you care if you get that phone call that the love of you life has been very-seriously-injured and a surgeon is trying to save his life? Will you ask if he is guard or active duty? Will he be less of a soldier, less of a hero if he is one or the other.

NO.

He won't.

How dare you belittle the families of the National Guard! How dare you speak down to them. How dare you disrespect the service of your husband. And by speaking against ANYONE who serves, you dishonor his service.

I hope you understand that in time.

I pray you understand in time.

Who serves more, who serves "greater" is not an argument to be had. To argue over whose service matters most is not for an Army wife to begin. It isn't for anyone. 

To leave your family, to miss births, deaths, LIFE, to see men fall in battle, to have to see things most can't imagine ... You do not get to lessen that.

Thank you to our Guardsmen and especially thank you for what may be asked of you in the future - as our active-services are lessened. Thank you in advance for stepping up to fill the gaps. For going when you are asked, whenever and where ever that is. Thank you for choosing to serve. 

As the wife of an Infantryman who has given fourteen years (seven as a national guard soldier), I am forever thankful for your sacrifice and service. Thank you to our National Guard Soldiers and their families!

Preparing for the Mission

I got a peek at the next several months ahead of us today. You know how it is before a deployment. They are here but they aren't really here. They are training, preparing, tdy'ing (yes, I just made that a word), getting clearances, getting everything in order, etc. etc. They aren't here for much of the time that they are. 

I know how frustrating that can be. I know how much we think they should be with us when they are home. Of course we want them to be here when they are here. That only makes sense. 

But it isn't the reality. 

You have to understand that right now. That. is. not. reality. We live a life that is not just deployment/dwell, deployment/dwell. When they are away they are very much away, but when they are home they are not always 'home'. 

It is so easy to not realize that. There will be a day when your husband comes home and tells you he is leaving in a week for one month for a sudden assignment, and the month after that that he is "home" he will be training and planning training basically 24/7, and that the next month will be field time with only weekends home and so-on and so-on. And then, at the end of all this training, at the end of all this time apart while his boots have been very much on American soil, when all the preparation is done, those very same boots, those worn, high-laced boots will board a plane, fly to the other side of the world, and step foot into a desert. 

Pre-deployment is hard.

Pre-deployment is very, very hard. 

It is easy to become resentful. It is easy to argue that this is time that they need to be with their families most. And to a point, that's true. But, when those boots step off that plane, when those boots begin their mission, I want the man standing beside my soldier to be as well-prepared as possible, to be as well-trained as possible, to be as ready and as confident and as capable as one can be. I want these men to enter into their mission in the way that guarantees success. 

That means that there will be many, many weeks and months that take them from us to prepare. You cannot grow angry with them for that. Every training, every week-long period in the field, every night-fire, every month-long assignment away is one more step to help to ensure that they come home to you. They have to be ready for what they are about to enter into.

This is where it is so hard. It is one thing to accept a deployment. To accept that they aren't here when they aren't here. It is far easier to accept the sacrifice when you can't do anything - when you don't see another option -  but, to have to accept that when you see their clothes in the hamper, and their wet soap in the shower, and a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the table, to be able to smell them, to see the signs of their presence while hardly ever seeing them is harder than we dare to believe.

This is the job. This is the commitment. This is the sacrifice. We share part of ourselves with a nation.

They are at all times soldiers. They are at all times servants to their country. When they are home and when they are gone. They are always soldiers.

So when you hear those training dates, when you add up the days that they will be gone, look for that grace. Know that the preparation matters as much as the mission. Find comfort in knowing that the man beside you soldier, who will have his back, who will fight beside him, will be trained to do so.

Let go of any anger and resentment and frustration. He doesn't need that. You don't need that. Your children will pick up on it. Be with him when he is here. Love him when he is home; love him when he is not. You are strong enough for it. Your marriage is strong enough for it.

You are living this life because you are meant to. You are loving a soldier because you were made to. 

Take a deep breath when you hear those dates and see that schedule. Deep, deep breath. Pray for the safety of these men; pray for the strength you are going to need. If you ask for it, if you seek it, strength and grace will get you through. 

To Love a Veteran

There was a time - and I am so ashamed to say this - I thought men and women who chose to serve, who chose to leave their spouses, who chose to leave their children must not truly love them. I am in tears as I type such a thing. The very thought of that now ...

It is incredible how much a heart can change, how much a perspective can change. Being reminded of the way I used to see this life, of the way I used to perceive every aspect of a life that I had no knowledge of, humbles me beyond words. It brings my entire body inward. Makes me still.

I think it is this past perspective that allows for the littlest increase in patience, the greatest bit of understanding when I hear the same from strangers. I have been there. I have thought these same things. I have not understood in the exact way that so much of this country does not understand. Anytime I lose patience, anytime the sarcasm begins to creep out, that distant voice is put back in my head, in my heart. My voice. It brings me back.

I never ask anyone to support the war. If you ask me why I think we are there, I will tell you - if you will listen. I will not argue. I never think less of a person who sees no purpose in this war. I would never think that. But, to support or not support the war has nothing to do with whether you do or do not respect and understand what a veteran is.

Nearly every time the national anthem is played tears flow from my eyes - very slowly, very quietly. If C is deployed, my face will be splotchy and puffy and hideous by the time that wonderful anthem ends. That happens for so many of us who love or have loved a veteran. If you ever see, watch, we will not wipe our eyes, we will stand straight, focused on the crimson and blue and white, we will not dare remove our hand from our heart to pull out a tissue until the final chord silences. Our understanding of that anthem is different - it runs deeper.

We know men and women who have fought for it, who have lost limbs for it, who have shed blood for it. We know those who have died. We know their widows. We know their mothers, their fathers, their brothers and sisters. We have held their children. We have seen the folded flags. We have mourned, we have prayed, we have remembered.

We know what our men and women give in defense of every word of that anthem, every thread of the flag. We know the days they miss, the births, the funerals, the first steps, the illnesses, the bedtime stories, the wins, the losses. We know the heartache, the pride, the sadness. We know what it is to have a heart permanently split in two - to have such intense love for family coupled with the rarest love for country. We know how painful that love is for all of us who share it. We know.

I know how awkward it can be to approach someone who has served. I know how hard it can be to take that step. I know very often you cannot always tell who the veterans are. They do not want any recognition. That isn't why they do what they do, what they have done, what more will follow in their steps to do in the future.

They are men and women who do not ask - do not ask for anything.

We ask of them.

I will ask just one thing of you - the simplest thing. Respect the flag they fight for. When the Anthem plays, place your hand over your heart, stand straight, and face the flag. The heart beat you feel ... that is what they fight for. That is what they selflessly leave those who love them for. That is what they strap on pounds and pounds of armor and equipment and headgear for. What they go days without eating for, weeks without showering for, months without kissing their children goodnight for. You - your heartbeat is what they carry. Whether you ask them to or not. Carry theirs with you. Stand for those who have lost a leg, or both, who cannot stand beside you any longer,  who have no arms left to salute, who have fought in the deserts, in the mountains, in the jungles, in every place that this country has asked them to go. Who crouch into the crevices of a mountain side, who have slept in fox holes, who slide as closely to the dirty, rocky ground as possible to remain undetected. Stand tall for them. Respect the flag - the flag that they always carry closest to their heart. That their families cling to. The flag that they revere, that in all things, is respected, is honored, is protected.

Honor the flag and you honor them.

On Veteran's Day and every day.

Thank you to all who have served and continue to do so. Thank you to those of you who have stood beside C on the battle field and in our homeland. I honor you.
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You can also read last Veteran's Day Post: A Very Important Day


And be sure to enter the Promises Give Away!

To Root for America

C doesn't vote.

The first time I heard that (years ago) I think my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe it. He enlisted at 17. Months before he could legally vote for those who represent us, he - and his parents - signed his first contract with this nation. I don't think C has ever voted - in any election. For those of you who are freaking out like I did when I found out: take a deep breath and listen.

Many service members choose not to vote. (Yes, I was shocked by this as well). I am sure they all have their own personal reasons but I can explain it the way that it was explained to me with my jaw hanging open and eyes bugging out of my head in disbelief. I cannot speak for all those who serve but I would think that for many of them this is their reason too.

When a soldier makes a vow to this nation - and that is what it is, a solemn vow - they become a servant of the citizens of these United States. They stand up and do whatever is asked of them despite the party in power or ideology of those elected because these people in place were elected by the people. They go where they are sent, they do what they are told, they act always with those they serve in mind. There is no room for their personal opinions, their personal ideology, their personal feelings on what does or does not take place in government. Such things can cloud their minds, take them from the task at hand. Many of them step away from this sacred right so that they can best ensure that we keep it for ourselves.

I cannot tell you how much I struggled with idea when C first told me. I have voted since I was eighteen. I watch political debates (for either party), I read articles, I have opinions - strong ones. I have always believed that to not vote is irresponsible, if you don't vote you have no right to voice an opinion on the outcome. But this is not the same.

Because whether they vote or not those who defend us always, always root for America. They root for her people. They root for her children. They root for her future. They do everything in their power to ensure we are safe, that our rights stay in place, that nothing threatens our liberty. And they do it, very often, without saying a word, without giving a political opinion, without casting a vote. They put their faith in us to do that. They put their hope in us to make the decisions for this nation - to decide what things they will defend and how they will defend them, we decide what orders will be giving by deciding to whom we will give that power.

These are selfless men, selfless women, who will do whatever is asked by those we elect, with no contest. No matter what faith we do - or do not - put in them, they keep their faith in us. They have to. Their jobs would mean nothing if they did not believe in the people they defend. They never stop rooting for us, for this nation. Never.

They only ask that we do the same.

Regaining Sight

I hadn't planned to write today.

To be completely honest, my focus was on something personal over these last 18 hours or so and not on the significance of this day. For our family personally today was a "we plan, God laughs" or even a "Why, God?! Why?" kind-of-day and it took up nearly all of my energy.

I meant to wear my cross pin with an American flag today but I forgot. My mind was busy thinking of other things as I headed out the door with two kids and three bags in tow, five minutes late to church for practice.

I meant to light a candle at 9:11. I meant to set an alarm on my phone to remember. But I forgot to and the time passed before I realized.

I meant to watch the coverage today but I was distracted by the thoughts in my own mind over a situation that had nothing to do with the 11th of September.

When I put the boys down to sleep and sat on the couch to fold the laundry I had just pulled from the dryer, I checked my DVR and remembered that I had set a particular program commemorating this day to record previously. It was the History Channel's 102 Minutes that Changed America.


With most of the lights off in our home, with our children asleep, with my husband gone, I sat and I watched and I cried and I whimpered and I shook. Because for as much as I remember that day (and I remember that day) it wasn't until watching the unbelievable coverage of this program that I realized how different it was to experience 9/11 as a child than to 'experience' it now as an adult, as an Army wife, and as a mother. 


It was an entirely different understanding. It wasn't until tonight that I truly understood what my mother must have felt on that day - waiting to hear her son's voice, knowing that he could have been there, not knowing where he was. It wasn't until tonight that I realized how much strength and grace must have been poured into her on that day to not let us feel the terror that I felt watching the footage. 


It was not until tonight - as I looked at these attacks from the perspective of a spouse - that I could feel the heartbreak of these spouses being interviewed whose loved ones were on the planes, or in the towers, or in the Pentagon. It wasn't until tonight that my heart broke with them rather than just for them. 


It wasn't until tonight that I could imagine knowing that you would never see your children again. 


When I watched those towers fall I was sixteen years old. My body literally crumbled to the ground in absolute despair. I feared for the safety of my brother in New York. But in no way could I understand things then the way I do now. 


It was like living through it for the first time - seeing the images, watching the videos, hearing the screams. It was so very different to watch these tragedies at this point in my life - a very different point - than at that one.


What touched me the most during this entire program was the footage of the firemen. The hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of men suited up, walking forward, holding their oxygen tanks, their folded hoses, helmets on their heads, just walking towards the blackness. I wonder what they must have thought entering those towers. I cannot fathom what thoughts must have been racing through their minds. I am extraordinarily humbled by their selfless bravery - beyond words. I watched in awe as the tears quietly rolled down my cheeks. I want to shake each of their hands. I want to thank them as an American. I want to hug their widows, their children.


I know that none of it would be enough.


Tonight I went up the stairs to Eli and Logan's room and traced crosses on my children's foreheads (as I do every night) and then I just sat with them. Watching them sleep. Trying to process that this tragedy may only be a small section in their history books. Trying to decide how I felt about that. Struggling to hold onto the thought itself. Wondering if they would ever live a day like the 11th of September - if their children would. Praying fiercely that that would never happen. 


While I sit here, the personal struggle that I went through today - that took my thoughts away from the significance of this day -  means nothing. 


Nothing.


I have so much to be grateful for. So much that makes me fortunate. So much that shows blessing after blessing to our family. 


And for a moment today - many moments really - I lost sight of that. 


For a moment, I forgot. 


How much I needed to be reminded. Life is precious. Freedom is precious. Goodness in people is precious. 


I will honor those who were lost on that day and every day since. I will remember. I must remember. And I will teach these things to my children.