Supporting those who support those who serve

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“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 Day in the Life of a Military Wife

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“Behind every strong soldier, there is an even stronger woman who stands behind him, supports him, and loves him with all her heart.” – Unknown

Last night, two days out from Independence Day, I was cursing the firecrackers that some ignorant individual was setting off just moments before midnight.

I stayed up too late, and I was getting tired, and also becoming a little cranky. As the firecrackers echoed with an incredibly loud bang, I consoled my poor dog, who, most days, is the essence of male bravado. Since his adoption into our family while my husband served in Iraq, our  rescued mutt has taken the role of protecting his family very seriously. But he is not a fan of firecrackers.

Of course, the lighting of mortars and explosion of lights across the night sky on the Fourth of July is an All-American tradition, along with the parades, barbeques and retail sales. I love this holiday, and I love seeing the showing of the red, white and blue from what people wear, to decorations in homes and in their businesses. I love seeing the flag on display and the feeling of unity among neighbors and strangers.

It always makes me more proud of our service members and first-responders – many who will not have the opportunity to celebrate this day of independence, because they are keeping our nation and neighborhoods safe.

I woke up groggy, and typical of my morning routine, I sipped some super-strong coffee as I read my email, and then jumped over to Facebook. Of course, most moderators in the social media world were asking the same question: What are you doing for the Fourth? And most responses were typical: Having a cookout with family; seeing the fireworks; traveling to the beach.

One comment from a military spouse felt like a punch to my gut. In essence, she said, “Nothing. Fireworks remind my husband of the mortars when he was in Iraq, so we don’t do them any more.”

Looking at the clock, I logged off Facebook and got ready for the day. But her words hit me, and with each loud sound I have heard today, I was reminded by what she said. The sheer irony has laid on my heart all day. This soldier, who bravely fought for freedom and independence, suffers from the noise of the celebration of independence. This military spouse will spend her evening caring for her soldier, because she knows he needs her.

It is true that the service members have tough jobs and many times are in imminent danger. But military spouses have a very tough job, too.

We manage the home and the family on our own. Most of us have experienced more than one “deployment disaster,” such as a pipe bursting or all appliances conking out at once, or, in my case, a skunk spraying the entire exterior of the house. We deal with payday screw-ups and sketchy information. Most of us are blessed when our service member returns healthy and whole. But there are many spouses who become a care-giver for a host of injuries, health, or mental health issues.

Military spouses don’t wear a uniform. We don’t stand out in a crowd, unless we are next to our uniformed service member. We celebrate holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries alone, trying to keep the days normal for the family. We attend weddings and funerals and dance recitals and school plays solo, but when appropriate, we are taking video and photos to share across the miles. We Google videos on how to tie our son’s ties for senior pictures. We pay the bills and handle the work of two. We stop what we are doing to look at our phones, and will answer any text or call from our spouse at any time – day or night. We worry – though we know we shouldn’t. We pray and send care packages and create countdown calendars. This is what it’s like – a day in the life of a military wife.

Last week, I attended a conference in Chicago, and afterward enjoyed an afternoon at Navy Pier. I was surprised to see a USO there, and I took the opportunity to share this great service with my 15-year-old daughter. Inside the USO, I explained to her that this respite service is manned by volunteers. Anywhere there is a USO, her dad and brother can stop in for a rest, a cup of coffee, or to check email. Most of the time, you’ll find a USO in an airport. And, as a military dependent, she can use a USO as well.

As we left, I thanked the volunteers, and threw a donation into the jar. One of the volunteers said, “Thank you for your service.” I replied, “No, I am not a service member. Just a military spouse.”

“Like I said, thank you for your service. You serve, because he serves.”

I will admit that I teared up. I thanked him, and was truly appreciative. Yes, I do serve. All  military spouses serve.

So, to the military spouses out there who are holding their service member’s hand a little tighter during the noise of the Fourth, thank you. For all the spouses out there, who won’t be celebrating together as a family, thank you. For those of you who are together between deployments – thank you. Enjoy that precious time together.

Thank you for serving.

How will you celebrate the Fourth of July holiday?

© 2013 – Lynne Cobb

Exercise and New Year’s resolutions…

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“Exercise is a dirty word.  Every time I hear it, I wash my mouth out with chocolate.”  ~Author Unknown

I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. Not because I am afraid of commitment (well, that all depends on the commitment – ha ha!). My personal feeling is that I have all year to resolve to better myself, and that was exactly what I did last year.

Deciding to become healthier, I started buying more organic foods, used less cleaning chemicals, tried gardening, made my own natural toiletries, and I quit smoking (okay, I will admit one or two puffs on an organic cigarette in the course of a year, but hey, not bad considering the almost pack-a-day habit of last year.)

Well, what happens when one quits smoking? Metabolism changes, and sometimes snacking becomes the new smoking. Someone told me to expect a 25-pound weight gain.

Well, call me stupid, but I am thinking that putting on that much weight in one year isn’t much healthier than smoking.

But I persevered, didn’t smoke, put on enough weight to make me cry and want to throw things and even blog about being blue over not finding jeans that fit! (Remember this? httpssss://lynnecobb.com/2012/08/18/dressing-rooms-blue-jeans-and-a-midlife-crisis/ )

Of course, my dear husband (and any of my children who were in earshot) listened to my rants.

Now, over the course of almost 30 years, my husband, who is also a soldier, told me that the cure for all ills is exercise. For example, I might say, “I’m freezing.” His response will always be, “Do push-ups.” Or, me, “I’m tired,” and he’d say, “exercise.” And me, someone who thinks sweating is gross, rolled my eyes. Every. Single. Time.

So, as I saw I was getting a little pudgy and flipping out over it, I decided that maybe my soldier is correct.

So, I started walking. Success.

Then, I started biking. Success.

My bike is a retro-looking one speed. I call it a “me speed.” It goes as fast as I can go. It goes up hills, dependent upon – me. And the first few hills this I tried, well, let’s just say I walked my bike. Then one day, I made it up the hill.

I was hooked. On exercise. The thing I detested most.

Well, not hooked enough to ride my bike in the winter in Michigan. So, in the fall, I started floor exercises. I can now do over 35 crunches, and lots of tilts and even three Army regulation push-ups.

Success!

I am a machine!

So when my 15-year-old daughter, who is on the cheer team, told me she did side planks, I was curious.

And I Googled “side plank.” Good for strengthening the abdominal muscles.

Well, looking at that photo, I knew I could do that. Lay on my side, feet together. Elbow bent. Support my body weight. Feel the burn. Yeah, not the good “no pain, no gain” burn. Ow.

Success – no.

There are somethings a personal trainer should show you. Exercises are one of them.

Needless to say, I have been pampering my strained arm for four days. Writers type, and at the moment, typing can be very painful. Lucky for me, essential oil of peppermint is awesome at alleviating pain 🙂 And it is organic!

And dark chocolate is a great antioxidant, and releases good endorphins, which help manage pain.

I just hope this arm heals soon, because I want to exercise again. Yikes, did I say that? I did say that! I want to exercise again. Because you know that average 25 pound weight gain? Not only did I avoid that, I am down to my “smoking days” weight. And I feel better when I exercise.

So, needless to say, in this New Year, I have resolved to rethink my adversity to resolutions. And I resolve to consult with a certified trainer for exercises that are unfamiliar. Or at least consult with one when those exercises look “easy” on Google images

PS – laughter is a good pain medicine, too 🙂

Do you have any exercise “fail” stories you are willing to share?

© Lynne Cobb – 2013

When my world stopped turning

“Where were you when the world stopped turning, that September day?” – Alan Jackson

Where was I on September 11, 2001? Dropping my youngest daughter off at preschool. My memory of that day is as clear and crisp as the weather was that morning.

It was a perfect day, and I found myself lingering outside, chatting with a friend. Her youngest son was in my daughter’s class, and her older son was a classmate of my oldest son. We shared so much – even the fact that we had been military spouses. We spoke of how we were blessed to be military spouses during peaceful times, excluding a brief stint during Desert Storm.

Our conversation stopped only because of our need to accomplish our morning routines while the little ones were in preschool. Our time was precious – the hours would tick quickly between drop-off and pick-up. If we wanted to accomplish anything, we’d have to leave now and continue to chat later.

I jumped in my van, half-listening to the news. A plane crashed in New York. Sad, but nothing too odd, I thought, except that Bryant Gumble was on air. Hmmm, I thought, it must have been a big crash, because it was all I heard on every station. I stopped pushing the buttons, and eventually shut off the radio. I did continue to ponder why a TV host was live on the radio.

Being gone a little longer than I planned, I had messages waiting for me when I got home; more than usual. Putting down my purse, the phone rang. I was interrupted by a hysterical call from my sister, who shouted, “Put on the TV! We’re under attack!”

What? I still get goosebumps from that slice of memory.

Grabbing the remote, I put on the TV. In disbelief and horror, I changed the station. Over and over each broadcast showed the same thing: a plane blowing through the World Trade Center.  In shock, I saw the camera replay as plane number two sliced through the other tower.

My head was spinning, reeling, trying to process this? Are we at war? Who did this? Who is next? Do I go get the kids from school? I couldn’t reach my husband on his cell. I wanted to turn this off, but I was drawn to the images coming in from New York.

Not wanting to be alone, I left and sought sanctuary at the church we attended. My pastor was there, and we grieved with others who also sought refuge and wanted to pray. I had never seen this man as disheveled as he was at that moment. He and his family had recently vacationed in Washington D.C. and in New York. He was stunned, reeling like everyone else.

The surrealism of the day continued into the evening, where our front porch began to fill with neighbors, friends and family, several whom were veterans. We all tried to make sense of the day. Located not too far from a small airport, the stillness of the silent skies added another layer of surreal to the day.

The smell of coffee, beer and cigarettes permeated the air, and we were getting updates from folks driving by, sharing their experiences of waiting in long lines at gas stations and grocery stores. We kept a very watchful eye on our kids. Nothing felt safe anymore.

Surrounded by so many people, yet feeling so very alone. I think we all felt that way.

No one could comprehend at that moment how our lives would change forever. How we would cling to each other. That we would find the love for our nation that seemed buried. That pettiness would be shoved aside for the greater good.

I wouldn’t have dreamt that, because of that day, I would become a military spouse with war zone experience. Or that because of that day, I would be one of many military moms losing sleep because their baby was in a foreign land, defending our nation.

I wouldn’t have dreamt that, because of that day, here, 11 years later, we are a nation so divided politically that it breaks my heart. Like we forgot how to be united. Friendships are being taxed by the divisiveness. Warring words from political camps and pundits fill the airwaves like a continuous assault.

If I could pick one blessing that came from that tragedy on 9/11, it would be that we, as a nation, stopped the bickering. That we raised our flags and helped where ever we could. That we were united.

As a military wife, as a military mom, and most importantly, as an American, I pray fervently for God to bless America, and that we remember how just how good it can be here in this country when we are a nation – united.

© 2012 – Lynne Cobb