Beyond Duty

Recently I read a book written by my husband's friend, "Beyond Duty". He had asked me not to read it, but like a kid being told to stay out of the cookie jar, I couldn't resist.

The book, by Shannon Meehan, was written with the intent to release his inner deamons; the ones that have been following him since the day he called in a missle strike. The day the war changed him.

As wives, mothers, and fathers, we worry about that very thing. When he comes home, will he be hardened by what he's seen or grateful for what he's done. Will he struggle quietly with images and sounds of war or will he be able to disassociate himself with the pictures of war. Who will he be when he comes home? You don't talk about it, but it's always right there. The wondering. They give you pamphlets on what to look for, signs. You memorize them. You search for them reluctantly and pray for them not to be there.

What do you do when they are? You pray. You ask for help. You cry. You worry.

Less than a week ago, a wife contacted me about a special care package. It is not for her children or herself, but for her husband. He has PTSD and is struggling to get by on a daily basis. I could feel my heart ripping apart and the tears welling up in my eyes. Throughout the entire e-mail she never once wrote about her own feelings, struggles, or heartache. She simply wrote with a purpose- send something to him, so he knows he's not alone.

The only problem is, I don't know how to wrap up my arms to hug him or my heart to replace the one in him that's broken.

Little Bit

Recently my grandmother was diagnosed with Stage 6 Alzheimer's, a change in her original diagnosis. For the past couple of years we have watched a beautiful southern woman, full of grace and charm, drift away. The vibrant woman I spent every Sunday with, no longer knows who I am. After being told on Monday that they had changed her diagnosis from dementia to Stage 6 Alzheimer's, I began to do some research. What I found was devastating and heartbreaking. I couldn't breathe. My grandmother is dying and we can't save her.

A flood of memories. Tears. A smile. More tears.

I started thinking about the long goodbye ahead of us. The uncertainty and fears that creep into my thoughts like a bad nightmare. My questions linger longer that I'd like them to and I'm left wondering if knowing the end is near is better than not knowing at all. I begin wondering if I'm strong enough and if I'm not...

Prayers. I asked my mother, how she was able to keep it together at the end of her mother's battle with cancer and schizophrenia. She told me she would pray the entire way to the hospital and then cry the whole way home. I nodded, fighting back tears, and then a connection I had never considered was made. My grandmother was "deploying", only this time, she wouldn't come home.

Now, I can handle this. There will be days that it will be a fight to get out of bed, knowing she will soon be drifting farther away. I'll ignore the fact that she's almost gone and then wish I had spent more time with her. After spending more time with her I'll think that it wasn't nearly enough. I'll cry and then hide my pain behind big glasses and a wide smile. And I'll pray. I'll pray for her to leave with dignity and grace and when she does, I'll be proud. I will be sad she's gone, but I will be proud.

I imagine that my care package will come in the form of hugs and family dinners. We will pour ourselves over pictures and laugh about the times we shared with her. There will be tears, but we'll recall the times we cherished most and we will be proud to have had her in our lives.






*Every time a loved one finds themselves facing another deployment, it feels as if it's a long goodbye. The questions race through your head, the fear and doubt linger, and you want nothing more than to ignore the inevitable. Be that care packae to someone else. Donate your time, resources, money. It doesn't have to be here. Just go out and be there for someone facing a deployment. Chances are, they need you more than you could imagine.

Prayer Bear

Last year, a volunteer at my school slipped in to my classroom with a special Several weeks ago a volunteer at my school slipped in to my classroom with a special gift; a prayer bear. Made with love and small enough to travel, Mrs. B packed the bear with plenty of prayers and well-wishes. I asked G to take it with him or at the least to pack it away for our future (as in so far in the future you can barely even catch a glimpse) children. Never did I expect him to actually take the bear and certainly if he did, never to bring it out of his bag. Always full of surprises, he not only took the bear, but has also began to snap pictures of the bear in action. He sent me a few pictures from time to time of the Prayer Bear doing various things associated with his deployment. It always made me smile to see the bear working alongside a bunch of Marines and Sailors. When G returned, he had even more pictures of the bear to share with me. It brought me great joy to see the little guy "flying" and completing rescue missions, PTing with the guys, or "keeping watch" at night. Operation Prayer Bear was a success.

Again, G is packing to head back out. It seems strange saying goodbye when we just said hello. This time, I will be sending him out with 20 other Prayer Bears thanks to Mrs. B's church. All of them are different, but they send the same message. Wherever you may go and whatever you may see, He will be with you.

Thank you Mrs. B!

Donate On-line Now!

Donations! Donations! Donations! It's that time of year again where I start collecting donations for the spring/summer months. Think "summer basket". "gardener's delight" and "little tot's toys". If you want to make a donation, comment below or e-mail me at operationtankyou@gmail.com.  If you would like to make a monetary donation you can now do that by clicking on our PayPal Donate button. 

Pictures are worth a thousand words, but tears say even more...

We waited.  For seven months, we waited.  And here we were, moments before their arrival, and still waiting.  The time was crawling and still there was no sign of the helicopters that would signal their arrival home.  We held on to each other, every now and then wiping a tear that had found its way to the side of our cheeks, and waited. Together. 

There were smiles and laughter throughout the day, but now mostly just an anxious silence that fell between us.  I couldn't open my mouth to speak but I knew there were words that needed to be said as we stood there, tears in our eyes, waiting for the ones we loved to come home.  I put my hand on her back and without saying a word, told her everything was going to be okay.  We had made it.

We stood together, side by side, like Marines.  We were each other's strength and although we both had our moments of weakness throughout the deployment, we knew standing there that day, we were strong and we had survived; together. 

Operation Tank You is the hand on your back, letting you know, you're not alone. 

No Tricks, Just Treats

I am excited about an upcoming post about my latest miniature care packages for the cutest little pumpkins! 

Pretty in Pink

Being pregnant is not easy. Or at least that's what I would imagine, not having ever been pregnant myself. There's doctor visits (and endless bills), the buying of diapers and nursery furniture. There's the smiling at every gift given and the endless talks revolving around naming the little one. I'm sure it's all exciting, but like most relationships, you have the honeymoon stage and then reality hits. And the sudden whirlwind excitement becomes panic and everyone's left wondering "what now?" Normally you go through that together, husband and wife, hand in hand. Unfortunately, for expecting mothers of deployed soldiers, the panic comes sooner and the tears are fought back long before they begin packing. You smile because you have to. You smile because you know their life and yours depend on knowing you'll be okay. You can do this.

For one mother, this is nothing new. As she does her best to take care of her fast growing little girl, the house, and everyday chores, she's also left caring for the little baby she's yet to meet. And she's doing this alone- sort of. Although her husband is off serving our country and he's not able to help with the day-to-day stuff, she's surrounded by friends and family who offer the support she needs. Unfortunately, although there are many who have offered and are willing to help, she hardly ever asks for it. She takes pride in knowing that she can fix things around the house, complete the chores, pay bills, and still have time to play dress up with her daughter; all with a smile on her face. And her free time? She calls to make sure other wives are doing okay, offers her advice, and lends an ear. She sends e-mails, cards, letters. She's a modern day Wonder Woman; an inspiration.

Not long after the website was established, I received an e-mail from a friend of this mother. She wrote asking if I'd be interested in helping spread a little more sunshine and love to this expecting mother. Today I am proud to announce the completion of the Pretty in Pink basket for this mother, her little girl, and her baby girl to be. It will be sent to a place I've never been with hope that although she may somewhere inside feel alone, know that she's not. She is surrounded by everyday Americans who appreciate all that she does for our country. I hope they enjoy opening everything as much as I enjoyed shopping for them. It was an honor.