“Many people ask me how it feels to be the wife of a former serviceman. I can sum it up in one word: personal. It’s very personal because it’s now our story, our sacrifice, our time lost. Joe’s deployment to Iraq directly affected who we were and who we are today. Surviving the experience for Joe (physically and emotionally), and for me (psychologically and emotionally), taught us that living out our vows was overwhelmingly important and real."
When the same story keeps coming up, I pay attention. There must be something that God wants me to know or do—or share. So when my husband visited a chaplain’s office and saw a copy of the 1948 commemorative stamp of “The Four Chaplains”, signed by a survivor of the sinking of the U.S.A.T. Dorchester in 1943, I wasn’t surprised. The story of the four heroic chaplains was one my husband and I had recently studied and even included in a new Bible study. Perhaps you know about Reverend Clark Poling, Rabbi Alexander Goode, Father John Washington, and Reverend George Fox—but if not, let me share this amazing story.
Some of the biggest mistakes I have made were because I followed bad advice. I listened to the wrong “voices.” I thought that following current cultural trends was more important than following age-old wisdom. I thought that everyone’s motives were pure and that they knew what was best for me. I thought I could trust anyone with experience, even if that experience had led them into failure. I thought that many college degrees made a person an expert. I thought that an older generation couldn’t possibly relate to my contemporary situations. I thought that no one could possibly understand what I was going through unless they had “walked a mile in my shoes.” I thought that clichés like, “if it feels good, do it”. . . and “I’m okay, you’re okay” . . . and “there’s no such thing as black and white—everything is gray,” were true statements on which to base major decisions. And in a very contradictory way, I thought there was no such thing as truth—that humanism and situational ethics ruled the day. I was wrong, and many others with me. And there are consequences to bad choices.
We have turned the calendar’s page to 2024. Does that make you feel older? Certainly it marks a passage of time, and for those of you experiencing deployment that comes as good news or bad news. If you’re getting ready to come home, you probably want those days to pass quickly. If you’re waiting to deploy, you might want time to move slowly. But whether it moves slowly or quickly time is taking its toll on all of us and we’re growing older. That’s the truth of it. When my husband would come home from work during periods of time when an assignment was not going particularly well, I would ask him, “How was work today?” He would answer, “One more day off the tour!”
“Communication is a lot like tennis. One person begins the conversation by making a statement, and then perhaps asking a question—like serving the ball. The other person returns the ball by responding to the statement and/or question, and perhaps asks another question. And so the game continues.” This is an important paragraph from the HomeBuilders Bible study entitled Making Your Marriage Deployment Ready (p. 39), meant to help couples in their communication skills before they are geographically separated. But the truth is that communication skills are vital to the life of a marriage relationship—deployment or not.
We gathered for Bible study, but our friend's face was downcast . . . a sure sign that his soul was, too. We knew he was dealing with marital problems, but there was also the pressure of an impending deployment. All of this weighing on his heart, his future—his now. It’s hard to know what to say sometimes—most of the time, really. So I said something scriptural that I don’t even remember, then added something like “God knows what you are going through and He is with you”. I followed the simple truth with a smile, and then closed with “but you already know that.” I guess I expected my smile to be returned with his smile—an understanding between us that I was just trying to do my best to help, but failing. But that’s not what happened. Instead he said with emphasis, “I do already know that. But I need to be reminded. Thank you.” I got the distinct impression that he really meant it.
I have several friends who email me “forwards.” Perhaps you do, too. I received this one a few years ago--and I like to return to it, this time for 2024. The ten predictions are from the forwarded email (author unknown). . . . .and the additional comments are from Scripture, and my heart.
At the beginning of each year we are inundated with advice on how to “get in shape” physically. Most military members and their families stay in good shape--but it still behooves us to pay attention to this advice. Magazine, newspaper—and online—articles try to motivate us to try something new (again). . . . another fresh start, so to speak. And the New Year offers just that—the opportunity to begin to exercise again in a better way--and eat healthier, too. What is the advice? Here are 10 "healthy tips" frequently offered. Are there some spiritual lessons we can learn along with the metaphors of physical training?
It was her favorite Christmas present, she said. Perhaps it was his, too, but he was still recovering from long months at sea and was needing to catch up on sleep. As they stood before us they still had that “newlywed glow” about them, even though most of their wedded life had been spent apart due to military duty. So when they were telling us about their first Christmas together there were smiles going back and forth between each other, and eyes sparkling with the chance to tell what was so very special about their first time of giving and receiving gifts as husband and wife.
It was Christmas Eve in Thailand, 1972. Thanks to Armed Forces Radio “Silent Night” was playing in our room . . . but it was not really a “silent” night at all. I was a young Air Force wife visiting my husband serving that year in Southeast Asia—but even in my naïveté, I knew something big was imminent. Linebacker II was in progress—the 1972 Christmas bombing of Hanoi—and the constant sound of take-offs (“please, Lord”) and landings (“thank you, Lord”) from the Air Base was surreal in dissonance with the sweet music I was hearing on the radio. A rescue was in the works, and the POWs, so long tortured and confined in Hanoi, heard and felt the thunderous aircraft noise with great hope and expectation for their eventual release from captivity.