Proud Military Mom

I wrote this article a few years ago, and it was originally published in the Detroit Free Press Twist Magazine on November 10, 2007. Earlier this week, one of our youngest son’s friends left for the U.S. Air Force-BMT. Late last year, the daughter of another family we know enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserves. To these young people – thank you! And to the military moms and dads, we are here for you!

Proud military mom – BY LYNNE COBB

Last Veterans Day, Lynne Cobb wrote about having her husband away at war in Iraq. This year, Lynne tells us about the mixed emotions of her son joining the military. This is her story.

Labor Day weekend, as many parents were packing up their kids and sending them to college, I watched my oldest son, David, scrutinize his very short list and place his few authorized belongings into a nondescript duffle bag. No microwaves or futons going with him. He was off to U.S. Air Force Basic Military Training (BMT).

BMT is a whole new world. Your child leaves with one bag — no computer, no cell phone — no texting, instant messaging or calling. You do not get to talk to your child until he or she has the opportunity to call you. The first call will be about two minutes — enough for you to get an address. Mail service is slow. I found the lack of communication to be unnerving. Not quite a year since his dad’s return from Iraq, my son was off and running on a new adventure. Excitement and apprehension ran high for the family. I wrestled my emotions — pride, fear and the realization that our family would never be the same.

As the weeks of training continued, I found myself wondering what was more difficult — being a military wife or being a military mom and sending my son to training and possibly war. The first few days of my son’s departure, I was in tears. When I went two days without crying, I felt I had made progress. There were days I would hear his favorite song and smile; other days that song would reduce me to tears. I’d see his truck parked outside and think, “He’s home,” only to realize a split-second later that, no, he really wasn’t.


I never realized just how much I’d miss him, that the ache would be so intense. It was like an emotional replay of my husband’s deployment. And, as with that deployment, my emotions ran the gambit between pride, lonely emptiness and worry. The emotional parallel is nearly identical, though I felt the need to go and rescue my son.

My husband has been supportive of my mixed bag of feelings. There is great comfort in having such a close source to answer my questions. We joke as to whom I should root for during the Army-Air Force football game.

My husband and I were blessed to be at our son’s graduation from BMT. It was an experience we’ll never forget and an event I wish every American could witness. To see almost 1,000 recruits graduate and take the oath to defend our nation is a moment I’ll never forget. While hearing the national anthem, seeing the U.S. flag as well as the flags of the 50 states and U.S. territories waving in the warm Texas breeze was a sight to behold. Not only was I a proud mother, but a proud American.

I am so very proud of the decision my son made to serve our nation. I am humbled by, and I thank, those who have made the same decision, and for those who will do the same. I thank the parents who supported their child’s decision.

No matter what the future holds, with faith and prayer, we will survive the miles between us, wherever he may be called to serve.

Are you a military mom? Have you experienced sending your child off to boot camp? How did you handle it? Let me know in the comments section. And again, thank you for service as a military family!

© Lynne Cobb – 2014

David's Graduation and Texas Trip 001

Keeping the Fire Burning – Against All Odds

anniverary post

“Keep the fire lit in your marriage and your life will be filled with warmth.”-Fawn Weaver

This past August, my husband and I celebrated a milestone in our lives – our 30-year wedding anniversary. Three decades! Over 10,000 days being married. I’d calculate the hours and days, but that may overwork my calculator!

Of course, our anniversary was an exciting observation for my spouse, myself, our children and our parents. I wish my dad had been here to celebrate, but I know he was smiling from heaven. I remember when I was a little girl, he stated that he would choose my husband. And when I shared with Dad that I was engaged, he was ecstatic. At the time, my soon-to-be-husband was stationed in Alaska. He proposed to me over the phone, and I received my engagement ring via UPS. I had to pry the package out of Dad’s hands, reminding him that it was addressed to me.

My husband and I met on a blind date, arranged by friends of ours, who had just met in college. Home for the Christmas break, my friend and her boyfriend described three of their friends they wanted me to meet. I chose the soldier, who was home on leave, and who was stationed 14 hours away via plane. Why? Well, should the date be a disaster, the possibility of ever running into each other again was incredibly slim.

Of course, we hit it off famously, and our story began.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Separated for nine months, we planned a wedding from afar and learned a lot about each other through letters and very expensive phone calls from the mainland to Alaska. After we were married, we lived a fairly routine military life: many moves, two children born in different states, then out of the Army and back home. Two more children entered our world, then the 9-11 terrorist attacks changed our family’s world – and back to Army life, this time as a Reserve family.

Our life together has been dotted with challenges: job losses, financial pain, military deployments, burying loved ones, disappointments.

Our life together has been amazingly blessed: Four children, the addition of our oldest children’s spouses, granddaughters, laughter – lots of laughter – strong faith, survival of the tough times, weddings, birthdays, graduations, confirmations, baptisms, seeing our children’s talents, watching them grow into amazing adults. Hands-down, we would say, “I do,” all over again.

As we got closer to our anniversary, I started reading blogs and comments about other long marriages. I wondered if there was any “secret” and if so, how did my husband and I rate among these folks. Honestly, I became depressed. The more I read, the more I witnessed pain and despair from people in long marriages, ending their lives together. Twenty, thirty, even forty years. I kept reading, trying to see why those couples fell apart, and panicked: could that happen to us?

Straight up answer – yes, it could.

Realistically, it could happen to anyone. And with the stress of a military marriage, just like the stress in any other high-adrenalin occupation – police, firefighters, etc. – a couple’s odds of marital failure are increased. Families of first responders and families of the military deal with fear of injury and death – for the most part on a daily basis. There is physical separation, missed holidays, lonely anniversaries, solo-parenting at special events – the list is endless. Additionally, these families deal with injuries, PTSD, loss of colleagues and other job-related issues.

So, my quest continued. Is there a magic formula for keeping it together? How do some marriages last, and others unravel? At some point in any relationship, there are bound to be arguments, hurt feelings, betrayal of trust, financial distress, illness and disease, and a host of other problems. So, I kept reading articles, blogs and commentaries. Some stories were so profoundly sad, and others – less in numbers – were inspiring. It seemed that there was so much negativity toward marriage, I wondered why anyone even bothered.

Recently, though, I have started to see some encouraging blog posts. One was from a man who was divorced, and he laid out a plan for other men to follow. It went viral, as he described how he hurt his spouse, and what he’d do differently. Another recent post was a young man whose father gave him advice – basically, that by treating your spouse well, your spouse will reciprocate. In a nutshell, treat others as to how you want to be treated – age-old advice that is true in any circumstance.

Out of all my research and reading, I did not find any one particular piece of advice for sustaining  a long-term marriage. From what I gathered, mutual respect, trust, love and forgiveness were some of the key components. Noteworthy were the articles and books about how men and women think and view the world in different ways, and many times not understanding our differences makes for difficult times. I think that respecting each other and our differences goes a long way in better communication – another key ingredient to strengthening our vows. And from a few folks in the medical community, the need to understand, acknowledge and support the physical and emotional changes men and women go through during their lives, especially mid-life, is another critical area of focus. And, of course, supporting each other’s dreams, careers and ambitions help bolster the couple.

As a military spouse, our families are subject to frequent separations due to training, temporary duty assignments and deployments. In fact, in the past eight years, my husband and I have spent four wedding anniversaries apart. Service members leave home, and the spouses are left behind to keep the home fires burning. Whenever I hear this phrase, I picture a pioneer woman, literally keeping the fire burning – handling her role as well as her spouse’s. It brought to mind a metaphor, and I believe, it sparked an a-ha moment – a frequent occurrence lately for this mid-life writer…

Marriage is like a fire. It starts out as a spark, and as the flame grows, it becomes hot and, sometimes, unpredictable. Once it settles down a bit, it becomes “perfect.” The heat begins to level off, and the fire is soothingly warm and comfortable – somewhat predictable. However, it still needs to be tended. Add a log or two, and it will keep burning. By becoming complacent, and carelessly letting it burn down too far, there is danger of the fire going out. However, even if there is just a little heat, the embers, which are cooling down, can be regenerated. It isn’t too late to save. Stoke it, add a little oxygen, then add another log, and the fire will return. It may need some prodding, but with patience and time, the flames will grow. Is it easy? Not at all. One can easily forget to toss a log on the fire when busy and away from the fireplace. It can become a hassle to keep the fire burning, but if it isn’t attended, the fire, at some point, will die out.

It isn’t easy to be the tender of the fire. It takes time, and sometimes there is only one person to keep it going. But, when it is well-tended, the rewards are amazing. There is warmth, comfort and light. There is satisfaction of keeping it going, even through the difficulties and the moments that it seemed impossible.

And, ultimately, there is joy in sharing something so very precious, so very life-sustaining, so very comforting.

Do you have any thoughts on how to keep a marriage strong? Any favorite metaphors? Feel free to leave a comment.

© Lynne Cobb – 2014

 

 

 

Straight from heaven – a message from Dad

fall sunrise

Given the current climate of our country, and our world, anxiety seems pretty high these days. I know I am not alone. For me, I can toss in mid-life adjustments, family circumstances and an insanely busy schedule to the big bowl of life, and mixing it all together, I can attest that I am feeling a bit on-edge and hyper; simply put – anxious.

Add another ingredient of life into the mixing bowl – my dad passed away a little over two years ago. I still miss him. He was my “go-to” guy when I felt anxious. He didn’t always try to fix things; most of the time he just listened.

The father-daughter bond we shared was very strong, and even though I can’t physically see or hear him, I think of him daily, and I believe he communicates in his own special way.

For instance, a few hours before my dad passed away, we experienced an early evening, mid-summer storm. Strong winds, thunder, lightening – the works. A vibrant and a most beautiful rainbow appeared shortly after the storm… and a rainbow occurred monthly at the same time – the 23rd day of each month – for several months after his death. Anyone who has lost someone so dear marks the monthly anniversary until it becomes a yearly observation. (Oh, this was amazing, too – a rainbow appeared on the first Father’s Day we celebrated without him.)

I will be going about my day, thinking of Dad, and then, one of his favorite songs will be on the radio, or one of his favorite hymns will be listed in the church bulletin. During times of incredible stress, I have seen Dad in my dreams. He says nothing, but has the most peaceful smile and always gives me a hug.

It is all too vivid and the timing is way too perfect to be called a coincidence.

When fall rolls around, I think of him constantly. Anyone who knew my dad also knew he had an immaculate yard, and during the fall, he declared a full-on attack of leaves. Yes, this is the man who would stop mid-conversation to go outside and grab a leaf off the front lawn. And yes, this is the same man who “slid” off the roof and broke his leaf blower because, yes, he was on the roof, ridding it of leaves, so that they wouldn’t land in the yard.

During Dad’s eulogy, our pastor shared these stories to all who came to celebrate his life. There was so much laughter. Seriously, who gets on the roof and, essentially, rakes it? One year, my siblings and our spouses wanted to bring bags of leaves and dump them all over the yard as a prank, so that when Dad grabbed his morning paper, he would be greeted with 3-4 inches of leaves covering every blade of grass. We didn’t, because, well, we knew that could have caused a major health event. We didn’t want to bear that burden the rest of our lives!

When we interred Dad’s ashes in a memorial garden at church, there was a hush of quiet as our immediate family gathered. It was a pretty fall day, and the earlier rain had subsided in the nick of time. Pastor was reading some Scripture, and said a prayer, and then there was a quiet murmur, which turned to some mild snickering… because in the spot where Dad’s remains would eternally rest, in that just-opened space in the memorial wall, what does our pastor find? A leaf. He wondered if we should remove it, or leave it there to drive dad crazy for all eternity.

See what I mean? I swear he sends us messages from beyond.

Well, I have really needed my dad these past few weeks. What I wouldn’t have given to just talk to him, which I still do. I guess what I really wanted was to hear his voice.

This past Sunday, after worship, my youngest daughter and I took a stroll through another garden at church. It was a nice walk, and we had just heard our pastor’s sermon about angels. The garden, still sporting some roses in the early fall, was peaceful and pretty, with a calming fountain and lots of stones with Scripture verses along the path. Halfway through our walk, one stone stood out to me because, of all things, there was a leaf laying on it. One, lone leaf, which, of course, caught my eye. Any time I see a random leaf, I can’t help to think of dear old dad.

Oh my gosh…I had to grab my phone and snap a photo, because I honestly could not believe my eyes! Straight from heaven – a message from dad!

do not be anxious

Right under the leaf, the Scripture verse read: “Do not be anxious about anything.” Philippians 4:6.

Teary-eyed, and a little shaken, I looked up, and whispered, “Thanks, Dad.”

© Lynne Cobb – 2013>

Let me know if you have received a message from heaven!

 

The Top 7 Ways 9-11 Changed This MilSpouse

blue star flag

Where were you when the world stopped turning? – Alan Jackson

September 11, 2001. We all remember where we were, what we were doing, and how the world became a scarier place. We watched in horror as innocent men, women and children died a horrific death. We watched in horror as first responders died trying to save lives. We cried for people we didn’t know. We cried tears of joy when a victim was pulled alive from the wreckage.

September 12, 2001, was a different day. Churches were open, people were praying, flags were raised, blood was donated and people from across the country headed to the East Coast to help. Military recruiters saw people lining up to defend our great nation. A great sense of community joined us all together.

We were like one family.

My Army husband, who was no longer on active duty, was restless. His colleagues were fighting in the War on Terror. I knew that his patriotism and military skills were needed, and I also knew that at some point, we would discuss his future military service – a decision that would be difficult to make. Should he re-up? If it kept our sons, our nephews and our friends’ sons from having to go, then yes.

Our decision was wrought with anguish. It certainly wasn’t easy. It was like putting my spouse into the line of fire. But he, being a man of character, strong faith, and a true soldier – selfless to the core – we took a leap of faith.

Without a doubt, September 11, 2001 changed me. It changed our family. It changed our country. Some of the changes in me are good – some, not so much. As I reflect the anniversary, remembering where I was, and who I was then, I will share the Top Seven Ways 9-11-01 changed me – for better and for worse.

1 – Lack of patience: When someone complains that their spouse will be gone a few days, I bite my tongue. I want to shout, “Try six weeks, six months, eight months or fifteen months at a time.” For a lot of families, you can multiply that separation by way more than one deployment in ten years. Admittedly, my lack of patience isn’t fair to others. And, truthfully, I’d rather hear someone complain about missing their spouse than have them doing a happy dance that their spouse is away. But what I realize, is that because of 9-11, my patience level isn’t always where it needs to be, and I am working on that. And it isn’t just this instance. My lack of patience with people being rude and obnoxious is evident. A flaw in my character. So, my lack of patience in others and in their complaining is truly the worst change in me since that awful day.

2 – Putting myself in other’s shoes: I find that I can be more empathetic now than I was before. Not all days, but most, I try my hardest not to judge. The other day, a clerk shorted me $10 in change. I was annoyed that I had to wait while they counted the drawer to make sure I wasn’t scamming. But I also tried to remember that mistakes happen – it wasn’t personal. I also wondered what hardships she was facing. Did she have a son or daughter deploying? An elderly parent to care for? An electric bill that couldn’t be paid? So, one good thing that 9-11 has taught me is to slow my quick tongue, and think before I speak, because I don’t know what burden the next person is carrying. And yes, I am trying really hard to remember that while driving…kind of goes hand-in-hand with that patience flaw I am working on…

3 – Value of time: Military families treasure time above anything else. So, when we see others bicker and complain over their loved ones, it really hurts. Sure, you may not want to pick up a pair of your hubby’s dirty boxers or your mom just may be a witch for grounding you. But there is a spouse out there somewhere who longs to grab dirty socks off the floor. And a teenager missing their parent, even if the parent was “being mean.” Some military families count down the days until a reunion…others aren’t so lucky, as they have faced a hero’s devastating injury or a death. Be kind to your loved ones – let them know you love them. Another good thing from 9-11 is that I learned how valuable time is, even if it sounds corny. Seconds count, as they turn into minutes, hours and days.

4 – Appreciating “geeks” who make our communication possible: Technology, used properly, has been one of the greatest gifts to military families. The ability to video chat, make phone calls, email, etc., has been a Godsend. Honestly, I don’t know how my military spouse predecessors coped, as it took so very long to get a letter from their husbands, fathers and sons. Just 10-12 years ago, we were running our Internet signal off a phone line. Now, our smartphones keep us connected. Holidays, birthdays, special events, even births can all be shared via video feed. What a blessing, what a change, for military families still serving due to 9-11.

5 – Appreciating all service families. It isn’t just the military and their families who deserve a shout-out. It is also our police, fire and other first responders – and their families. Each day, there are parents, spouses and children that send their loved ones out the door to serve and protect us in our daily lives. Those families are on the same emotional roller-coaster that military families ride.  Sadly, it took 9-11 for me to really appreciate what others in our community do to keep us safe. So as much as I appreciate being thanked for my service as an Army wife and an Air Force mom, when I can, I thank our first responders and the families who love, worry and support them.

6 – Flags. Yes, you bet the flag flies proudly here. There is also the addition of a Blue Star service flag, bearing two stars. If, thirty years ago, someone would have told me, a new military spouse at the time, that I’d be presented one of these flags, I wouldn’t have believed them. In fact, I didn’t even know what a Blue Star service flag was back then. Because of 9-11, I have come to love the U.S. flag and what it represents more than I thought I ever would, because I truly understand the cost and sacrifice for freedom.

7 – Faith. Sure, it may sound cliché. But when your spouse or child is in harm’s way, you realize that you truly do not have control. Faith isn’t found just in foxholes, it is found at the kitchen table, tucking the children into bed, in holding hands in prayer, or in the embrace of a caring friend. Knowing that people pray for my family and for me is such a tremendous comfort. Faith brings hope. The biggest – and best – change in me since 9-11 has been my personal walk in faith.

So yes, some good changes, some new appreciations and most definitely an area (or two) of personal growth to work on. If we can take anything away from a tragic event, I hope it is change – good change, so that we become better people – to ourselves, our family and to strangers.

© Lynne Cobb – 2013

How has tragedy changed you? Feel free to share your story in the comment section.

 

 

 

Supporting those who support those who serve

mug shot

“No one really wants to admit they are lonely, and it is never really addressed very much between friends and family. But I have felt lonely many times in my life.” – Bill Murray

Sitting in church on Sunday, our pastor’s sermon theme reflected on friendship. Though he interjected some humor with thought-provoking questions, his message really hit home. I am sure many of us squirmed, knowing full well that we all can, should and could be better friends.

He touched on something that really resonated with me, and that was loneliness, and what it really felt like. If you have ever experienced loneliness, and I am talking gut-wrenching, deep-in-the-pit loneliness, you could relate. When you are hurting, you don’t want to be forgotten.

Most of us think of loneliness when we hear of someone passing away. Loneliness is part of the grief experience.  But it isn’t always death that makes one feel alone. Any traumatic experience – like a cancer diagnosis, a divorce, a job loss, addiction, losing a home – can lead to feelings of loss and grief.

Because I am a military spouse and mom, I know how very lonely it can be when your loved one is not home. Basic training, TDYs, far-off duty stations and deployments  can cause grief: separation anxiety, lack of communication, missing your loved one. You grieve for the life you had before they left. You grieve for normalcy. At times, people avoid service members’ families for fear of making them – or seeing them – cry. Similar to how people react to a death.

And honestly, that is isn’t too far off the mark as to how we respond, in general, when others journey through difficult times. We don’t know what to say or do, often afraid we will make things worse.

Back in the late 1960s, Elizabeth Kubler Ross introduced a hypothesis for the five stages of grief. Some pooh-poohed her idea, and others embraced it. When my dad died, I can say I went through the stages, though not in any particular order. I stumbled upon some notes regarding those stages recently, and it was like I had an “ah-ha” moment. The stages of grief are similar to the feelings many military families go through when those deployment warning orders start filtering down the chain of command:

  • Denial (Oh, this won’t happen. He is needed at his base more than over there.)
  • Anger (Mad at the command, mad at the violent world we live in, mad at the dog, mad the account won’t balance. Mad! Mad! Mad!)
  • Bargaining (God, if you keep my service member home, I will ___________ [fill in the blank].)
  • Depression (Some days, you just want to pull the covers over your head and sleep until your loved one returns.)
  • Acceptance (This really is happening, and with God’s help, I will survive it.)

I’ve been asked before how one can really help military families – you know, “to support those who support those who serve.” As a well-season military spouse and mom, I have some suggestions listed below for those who have a friend, neighbor, co-worker, church member or relative facing or living through a deployment. But really, these can be used for anyone in need:

  • Be there. When my husband left for a deployment, my sister-in-law showed up at our house within minutes of his departure. Kids, coffee, and tears. I don’t even know if I talked. But she held my hand while I cried.
  • Bring a meal. My mother is the best. She either a brought a complete meal or invited us over. What a relief to not have to worry about feeding the kids. What a relief to not have to eat alone if the kids are not home.
  • Texts are great, but there is nothing better than hearing a voice at the other end of the line.
  • Invite the spouse, parent or family for coffee, ice cream, or just for a visit. Evenings, weekends and holidays are the worst times for feeling lonely, as that’s when most families gather and interact.
  • Drop off or mail a care package to the family. Maybe a box with some movies, popcorn and candy; a cookie bouquet half-way through the deployment; a flower arrangement on an anniversary or birthday; a balloon bouquet on a child’s birthday; fresh-baked cookies…let your imagination run wild!
  • Offer to help – from childcare to errand running to household/yard chores. A military spouse is pulling double duty.
  • Don’t say,”If you need me call.” Just call – they do need you.
  • Don’t be afraid. You will see tears. I guarantee it. Consider it an honor that your friend can comfortably cry in front of you.

Certainly, we have all the technology we can handle to stay in touch, but as connected as we are, there is a huge disconnect in interpersonal relationships and human touch. We rely so heavily on texts, posts and tweets, that we feel we have done our duty to connect. And while electronics are good to get the dialogue going, I think we’re really missing out if we don’t get out of our comfort zone and help wipe some tears, hand someone a box of tissues, give them a big a hug or sit and hold their hand. Something as simple as sharing a big slice of chocolate cake, or a bowl of body-and-soul-warming soup can do wonders for someone who’s lonely and scared. They will know they aren’t alone.

From someone who supports someone who serves, I can tell you, it will be appreciated. Greatly appreciated.

“Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.” – Vera Nazarian

Would you be interested in seeing more blog posts on how to support military families? Feel free to let me know in the comments section.

© Lynne Cobb – 2013

A friend in need…

wpid-2013-02-14-08.52.20.jpg

“Anytime you suffer a setback or disappointment, put your head down and plow ahead.” – Les Brown

This past Monday was a day of disappointing news.

I won’t say it was a day of bad news. But on a day that the sky was dark and  cloudy, when the wind was cold and biting; when the strain of winter’s dreariness begins to take a toll on one’s soul, it was a day ripe with hopes of  good news to brighten the gloom felt both inside and out.

That just didn’t happen.

In the early afternoon, I received a text from my youngest daughter. She didn’t make the cut for an advanced choir for which she auditioned. She studied. She practiced. She prayed. We prayed. Her name didn’t make the list, and she was crushed. I was crushed for her as well.

“Can you come get me?”

Normally I would say “no,” but I knew she needed the comfort of her mom’s embrace and a private moment to console herself. So I called and excused her from class and went to retrieve her from the school. My temptation to stop and buy for her the biggest chocolate bar I could find gave way to the mom in me trying to reinforce good habits, and I didn’t want to send the wrong message of burying disappointments in food. A good cry, a big hug and some carefully, prayerfully considered words of comfort would be given, along with the space needed to examine the disappointment and to make a plan to move ahead.

She had the biggest, saddest look in her soft, beautiful brown eyes. A look of maturity with the hurt of a toddler. It killed me to look at her. I, too, began to cry.

“You have a beautiful voice, and it is truly a gift from God,” I told her. “Don’t let this disappointment get you down. He has great plans for you, and as hard as this is, trust that He will bring you through this and place you where He needs you to be.”

We chatted a bit more, cried a bit more, and then I left her alone, though I didn’t want to leave her side. A few moments to lick her wounds and cry into her pillow would be good therapy, and I continued on with the tasks of my day, tackling the to-do list as I checked on her throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Not too long afterwards, the dogs began barking at someone who was knocking at the door. On the other side were two of my daughter’s friends, bearing bags of snacks: her favorite chips, her favorite candy and a pizza-making kit. They brought all of her favorites, plus the love and compassion of friends who knew she needed them. My eyes began to well up at the love these young ladies showed their heart-broken friend.

I heard sniffles and giggles as they prepared the pizza, and squeals of laughter as the therapy worked – much better than a chocolate bar from mom. For a few hours, my daughter’s friends kept their pal company, had her laughing, and cast a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day.

During the time the girls were visiting, I received my own share of very disappointing news; where I was praying for outcomes that were completely different and unexpected from the ones I received. It was now my turn to cry, and to reach out to one of my friends for solace and comfort. It was also my turn take the words of wisdom I gave to my daughter, and apply them to my own circumstances. That, truly, was not easy, as I asked God “Why? Can’t I catch a break?”

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV).

I believe God places friends in our lives to prop us up when we have a hard time believing that the disappointments we encounter can be used for the greater good in our lives – or for others.

We may never know why we are dealing with the disappointments that we have been given, but with faith and the love and support of our friends, we will survive – and grow stronger from the setbacks we encounter along our paths.

How have you helped your child/children through a major disappointment? Share in the comment section below.

© 2013 – Lynne Cobb

Giving thanks and Christmas goodies

wpid-2012-12-21-11.59.25.jpg

This holiday season has been a challenge for me. Because of its ups and downs, I have incorporated into my daily routine a moment to stop and give thanks in all things. I am here to tell you, of all challenges a woman of faith faces in a day, giving thanks in all things is simply not easy. Looking adversity straight in the eye is not comfortable. And thanking God for it? Well, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger!

Today has been a very tough day for me. The last final days of preparing for Christmas have been hard because I am missing some of those who are most dear to me. So, procrastination has set in. I have created lots to do – all that has absolutely nothing to do with my very long to-do list.

But that is okay, because my feeling of being a bit blue has led me to a distraction, which has led me to a wonderful opportunity to give thanks in all things.

While cleaning the office, when I really should be cleaning the bathroom, I found an old column of mine – my very first published column – ever! A former editor, Steve Stein, took a chance on me, and on Christmas Eve, 1998, I was published.

The memory of the excitement of seeing my byline, combined with the words I wrote 14 years ago, gives me the opportunity to thank him and so many others who have helped me along the way. I can never thank my former editors and writing colleagues enough.

“Sugar Buzz” was written when my oldest was 13 and my baby was one. This column reflects what Christmas used to be like in our home, 14 years ago. Of course, I miss those days of Christmas past, and in giving thanks in all things, I look forward to the memories of Christmas present and future.

I hope you enjoy this column! God bless you and your families as you create special moments together.

“Sugar Buzz,” written by Lynne Cobb and published in The Mirror Newspapers, December 24, 1998:

I know I read somewhere that sugar does not affect children’s behavior. Well, this experienced mother can truly dispute that statement! Any parent who has ever hosted a child’s party or helped out during classroom parties can attest to this fact as well.

But who am I to complain? Growing up, there was always “something sweet” with coffee after dinner. This tradition has carried over to my household as well as those of my siblings. I have a panic attack if we have surprise visitors and there is nothing sweet in the house.

Now, as parents, my husband and I try to keep our children’s sugar ingestion to a minimum. (I said try!) All four of them were born with a sweet tooth. Dessert is part of the food pyramid, right? And Christmas is coming, which means – more sugar and goodies.

I honor of all the parents who will try to talk their children into vegetable sticks in lieu of candy and cookies, I lift my cup of cocoa to you. And here’s a tune I penned to “Silver Bells” to get you in the mood:

Sugar Buzz

Sugar buzz, sugar buzz,

It’s Christmas time in my kitchen.

Butter rings, fudge and things,

Soon kids will be spazzing out.

City children, country children,

With their hands gooey-gross,

Keep eating the cookies and junk food.

See them laughing, see them jumping,

See them bouncing around.

And they just keep on chowing junk down!

Sugar buzz, sugar buzz,

It’s Christmas time in my kitchen.

Angel wings, sugary things

Soon kids will be spazzing out.

Grandma’s baking, candies making,

See the kids beg for more.

Mom and Dad roll their eyes – plead for mercy.

Hyper children, sticky clothing,

Today’s the year’s longest day…

And tomorrow we’ll start this again!

Sugar buzz, sugar buzz,

It’s Christmas time in my kitchen.

Red food coloring, fined everything

These kids just can’t simmer down!

Merry Christmas!

© Lynne Cobb – 2012

On being gentle and kind

“Life is fragile…handle with prayer.” – Harold B. Lee

I believe I was about 13 years-old when my mother made an embroidery sampler using the above quote. It hung in a frame and I must’ve looked at that piece a million times throughout the course of my life.

Without dating myself (yes, it’s been a few decades since Mom made that!), I really understood the meaning of that quote yesterday morning.

Yesterday, I made the discovery that I am indeed “fragile.”

After dropping the kids off at school, I had a driver pull out in front of me, only to stop and block traffic to turn left. If she had waited just a few seconds, she would’ve had a clear path. Luckily, I was in no rush, but the rudeness just brought me to tears. Honestly, I thought I was crazy being so emotional over this driving incident – which, unfortunately, happens all the time these days.

But my feelings were very real. And it has taken me an entire day to figure out why this bothered me so much. Seriously, I spent a lot of time praying I wasn’t crazy and for the Lord to give me patience with others.

Why? Because I felt like this driver didn’t care about me.

Obviously, she didn’t care about anyone other than herself and her own time-table. But somehow, I felt like she did this on purpose to me. Didn’t she know what I was going through in life? Didn’t she know that my dad died less than a year ago and that I was having a hard time dealing with his death this week? Didn’t she know that we buried a dear friend last week? Didn’t show know that if I hadn’t paid attention to her lack of patience, that we’d have been in an accident?

I felt singled out by this driver, simply because of this: rudeness is running rampant.

The “I don’t give a rip about the next guy attitude” has really gotten on my nerves lately. How can people be so callous and rude? It’s not ocassional anymore – it’s everwhere! It is on the roads, where people are completely inconsiderate of others. It’s in parking lots, where people  leave shopping carts to roll into other people’s cars.  It’s on our front lawns, where folks walking dogs leave their pet’s mess for someone else to clean. It’s in short, snarky comments and the rolling of eyes. Rudeness has become an absolute epidemic.

Of course I don’t expect a total stranger to know me or my emotions on any given day.  But I do expect that people would behave and treat others with some level of respect.

Is it because I watched my dad struggle the last few years of his life that I put myself in other’s shoes?  If I walk through a fog of emotion, are others doing the same? There is no way to know if the people I encounter today have received a big dose of bad news – a death, a diagnosis that is terminal, a foreclosure notice, a job loss. Maybe a smile or a courteous word is all they need to keep moving in that moment.

If I am fragile, than I will just assume someone else is, too.

It is the least that I can do.

Have you been a victim of rude people? Tell me below in the comments section.

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb

A quick note to say thanks…

 

Gratitude is the music of the heart, when its chords are swept by the breeze of kindness.  ~Author Unknown

Just taking a quick moment to thank you all so very much for your support. As many of you know, I am relatively new to blogging. The fact that people are reading and responding to my posts is not only humbling but truly rewarding. The past few days I have received so many wonderful comments. Your “likes,” comments, personal notes and constructive suggestions are keeping me motivated.

There have been many changes in my life in the past few years, some good and some not-so-good. Transitioning from print media to other career ventures is just one of the changes and challenges! Personal changes, such as my dad’s struggle (and then his death) from Alzheimer’s; friends dealing with health challenges – both their own and that of their parents’ or children – and then losing friends way too soon have made for the more challenging times.

But the good has totally outweighed the bad. Had not these challenges been laid before me, my faith in God wouldn’t be where it is today. I wouldn’t be doing what I am doing now – writing. I wouldn’t have met new friends. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to reunite with old friends, create stronger bonds within my own family or leaned on my dear friends for strength.

I would not have gained an attitude of gratitude.

Again, I say from my heart – thank you.

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb

Wrapped in a prayer

“Pray, and let God worry.”  — Martin Luther

I absolutely love to knit, and though I’m still a beginner, it is something I really enjoy.

I honestly don’t remember where I initially learned. Memory says my great-aunt taught me, but my mom says it was her. All I can tell you is that as a youngster with a set of knitting needles in hand, I was really uncoordinated and rather confused with the process. So I crocheted instead.

As the years progressed, I became quite proficient at crocheting, but I always yearned to knit. Then I was busy raising four kids so the crafts, needles, yarn and such were stuffed in boxes and forgotten about.

It was so enthralling to watch someone just knitting away – witnessing something beautiful being made in brilliant color and a soft, comforting texture. So, about five years ago, I bought a how-to book and re-taught myself.

A simple kitchen dishcloth was my first successful project, and I have a drawer full of them to prove it! From knitting dishcloths I learned to make a baby blanket – which was simple because it was basically the same pattern with more stitches. And from that blanket I started making Prayer Shawls.

When I’d accompany my mom to my dad’s doctor appointments, I usually brought my knitting. It helped soothe me, because anyone dealing with an Alzheimer’s patient knows that with each doctor appointment or test, the family will most likely hear that the is patient getting worse, not better. And so one of the first prayer shawls I made, I gave to my mom.

The beauty of a prayer shawl is that you can choose to make it for someone in particular (which I have) or make one and donate it to total stranger (which I have done, too). I made a soft-pink shawl for a neighbor with breast cancer, a few shawls for relatives, and a few for several for people that I never met.

Beginning each shawl, I’d thank God for the ability to use my hands for His work, and then to ask Him bless the person who would receive the shawl. I’d pray for the recipient to feel God’s comfort, seek His grace, and that when they needed a big hug from God, they’d put the shawl around them and feel His touch.

Last July, my mom and I were getting my dad admitted to a nursing home. I can’t even begin to articulate the sense of loss we felt. I tried so hard to keep my composure, but once I got home, I completely broke down.

I went to visit Dad the next day, and there was a brown throw on the chair at the foot of his bed. I picked it up and handed it to a nurse’s aide, explaining it didn’t belong to my dad.

With a gentle smile, she said it was in fact his.

“Someone makes and donates prayer shawls to our new residents,” she explained.

With tears in my eyes, I covered my dad with this shawl that was made with the love and prayers of a total stranger. Maybe the knitter went through placing a loved one in a nursing home and knew extra prayers were in order. It was in that moment I realized just how comforting a prayer shawl is to the recipient.

I just wish I could personally thank the person who was so generous with their time and talents. I’m guessing the best way to say thanks is to pay it forward.

Have you made or received a Prayer Shawl? Feel free to share your story.

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb