As a little girl when I spoke of my father as being “at sea,” I really had no notion of the dangers he faced—he had helped teach my sisters and me how to swim, and for all I knew that’s what they did out “at sea,” diving off the deck and swimming with dolphins. The water, as I knew it then, was all glee and shimmer and launching off of his shoulders in the deep end. It was not until later that I began to appreciate the grisly possibilities associated with his seafaring deployments.

I pay attention when I run across stories about platonic friendships which turn into inappropriate relationships. It’s so common  . . . especially in these days of deployments. Loneliness can become the excuse for “hanging out” with someone of the opposite sex you thought was “safe.” Stressful marital situations can become the excuse for asking a fellow worker of the opposite sex an innocent question like “I’m going through a tough time in my marriage—help me understand my spouse better.” Uncertainty about your future can become the excuse for throwing caution to the wind with an attitude of “What the heck—all I’ve got is today and no one has to know.” But it’s the timing of it all, and what might cause us to turn our back on a flirtation at a less stressful point might lead to the desire for more at another point.

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.

“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.

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!”

Several years ago my husband and I closely watched two weddings—one on TV and the other through photos on Facebook. One, a royal wedding, costing millions of dollars and the other probably less than $200. Both couples deeply in love and truly committed to each other; both weddings in churches; both military couples with obligations to duty; both brides beautiful and both grooms handsome; both families excited and happy for the couples.

Another day—another email announcing marital troubles as a result of poor decisions made during deployment. I want to scream, “Oh, No!! Not again!!” Didn’t this couple know there were dangers—weren’t they warned?