Do you ever feel like the burden and weight of deployment and separation are an affliction? May we be able to learn something from the prayer of Hannah in I Samuel 2:1-10 as she presents her son, Samuel to Eli, the priest, and offers him in service to the LORD.
Bedford is a small town in rural Virginia. Nestled in the Blue Ridge foothills, it’s a tranquil spot to visit and ponder the enormous price this community made in service to our country on June 6, 1944—D-Day. Upon this beautiful town fell proportionately the heaviest share of American losses on that day. For out of the thirty young men from Bedford who had joined the National Guard and were called into service in 1942, twenty-two were killed in the invasion. For the “Bedford Boys” who landed on Normandy’s Omaha Beach in 1944, their bonds meant just that—bonds.
Think back to your childhood for a moment. After doing something you would come to regret, were you ever told by your parents that you were “just askin’ for trouble” when you committed that stupid act? Perhaps your response, like mine, was, "I wasn’t asking for trouble . . . it just happened!” The book of Proverbs would agree with your parents—or whoever has spoken wisdom into your life. Most of the time that we get into trouble, we know better.
“I’m not there! What can I do about it?” If you’ve ever heard those words from a deployed service member, you know the frustration they offer up to the one at home having to deal with the troubling situation. If the situation regards the rearing of children, then the frustration can reach epic proportions. None of us wants that, right? So here are some thoughts to help—they’re so simple we call them the "ABCs" of long-distance parenting.
On the wall of my father-in-law’s office hangs a small piece of paper framed as an important document, yellowed with age. On this paper are these words: "You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world . . ."
On Memorial Day we honor those who died in service to our country . . . and thank the guards charged with keeping watch over the unknowns who represent the utmost bravery of our American military service members.
Time spent with chaplains is precious time. A few years ago we shared that precious time with a particular Navy chaplain who gave us a glimpse into his world of responsibility—which includes leading a chapel community, teaching Bible studies, completing administrative and training assignments (to name but a few of a myriad of tasks). . . .and being the notification officer and ministering chaplain to those in a wide circumference around his assigned duty station.
On this week of Memorial Day 2026, thank you for your sacrificial service to our country and our Lord. We shall never forget. . . .
How is communication going with your spouse during this deployment? During the Vietnam War, the only voice communication my husband and I had was MARS radio. Better than nothing, but only three minutes once a month and punctuated with the required “over” before we could exchange pleasantries—all overheard by a Ham radio operator somewhere on the west coast. So letters were our main form of communication—
The story goes something like this: A military family has just arrived at their new duty station. They’ve settled into temporary quarters and have begun to look at housing options. The mother takes one of the little children with her to the commissary where the commander’s wife spots her and decides to check on how the family is doing. In the course of the conversation, she asks, “Have you found a home yet?” The child answers, “Oh, we have a home—we just haven’t found a house to put it in!”