I have become a knitting fool

For you skeptics who are wondering why I should even mention my knitting addiction-let me say that I have found a wonderful way to at least temporarily cast away worries and concerns-something any military parent needs to know how to do . During my last two Plebe summers I ran-well sort of  ran-but enough to be able to complete a marathon.But right now it is very cold outside-plus I am committed to spending at least 4 hours a week on bleacher seats(I call the result bleacher bottom but that is another story).

So what do you do when you are confined to a gym in the situation where your son plays on the JV and might get in for the Varsity-have your guts twist up inside in disappointment when he doesn't make it in? Snarl at the referee when you really want to throttle the coach? I pick up my short pointy sticks and start knitting furiously.

Worrying about the PRT(physical readiness test) or academics or drill instructors?-that is good for at least one scarf. How about if they will get leave for that family event?-a pink cotton chenille washcloth can handle that. Flight school-performance in the trainer-will he get jets or helos-and the unspeakable events that as the wife of a instructor pilot  I have seen occur; his buddies on the Syrian border, her deployment to Afghanistan-well now I am starting an afghan.

Actually I just came across a site where you can knit for the troops-so I am going to check that out as well. I feel a new affinity for all those women in WWI and WWII who knit away and rolled bandages-the mindless acts of meditation of a stitch combined with prayers for those I love and in harms way help me stay somewhat peaceful. This world is a scary place and our children have chosen to be in the middle of it all-at least they will have something that keeps them warm to take with them.

It's the little things that count..

All four in one place at the same time-it's a miracle!

As a military mom it is not only the big things that get to you-it can be the every day things that most take for granted. For example getting all four of mine in one place at the same time is quite a challenge. As I sit on our hilltop farm and look out on a holiday I can see clusters of families gathering together-not my kids. I may be lucky to get a double or a triple but very seldom do I get a home run of everyone together.

It's funny-when they were home all the time I think they got the basics of hand to hand combat completed in my living room. I would head to town and war would break out. The battles raged, casualties abounded including lampshades and then the phone would ring. " Kids, I am on the way home-anything else we need?" Immediately they sprang into action just like Thing1 and Thing 2-in this case also Thing 3 and Thing 4-and all worked together to put things back in order.  A few days later I might ask, "What happened to this lamp shade? " to be met by silence. Of course all of this has only recently been disclosed now that the statute of limitations has run out.  They work hard to see each other when they can, but that little thing of normal life together is a thing of the past.

When they were home I knew their friends,their comings and goings, and supported them in their activities. I sat on so many bleachers  that I developed bleacher bottom-an increase in girth directly attributed to hours sitting in the car or the bleachers. Now the questions remain unanswered-what did you do at work today, where are you, when will you be home? OPSEC reigns supreme and I find myself reading the news to figure out if my kid might be there. The not knowing-and being less a part of their lives because of it-those are little things I took for granted in years gone by.

I have to say the one thing that really has upped the ante when I think of the little things is my grandchildren. During my sons' first deployments they were newlyweds. Their wives stepped it up and bravely held down the home front. They dealt with all the things that can go wrong. As it says in Mrs
Murphy's Law :
           If anything can go wrong it will happen when he is out of town-or on deployment.

But this time around-well it is different. There is a little girl left behind. Six months when Daddy left and she will be a year old when he comes home. The first tooth, the first steps-no amount of technology can replace missing those milestones.When we talk about personal sacrifice- it can be the little things that mean so much.

Off we go.......

Never forget

The news is full of 9/11 stories. I find them almost painful to read-it seems like only yesterday. But my life changed dramatically that day-especially my life as a mom , although I did not realize it at the time. It seems fitting that I would add to the chorus of remembrances, to keep the memory painfully fresh.

It was a beautiful fall day, except my five year old had a high fever. My husband, an airline pilot, met me at the doctor's office. The other kids were all in school, except our oldest. He had just finished Plebe Summer at the Naval Academy. The previous weekend I had gone to visit him and go to my first Navy football game. It was  Firstie Parents Weekend, and the Class of 2002 parents were all there beaming with pride. It had been a lovely time. But now I was home and so grateful my husband would be there to help with a really sick little guy.

Our doctor, a former Air Force physician , burst through the door and was so happy to see my husband.  As he told us what was going on, we realized why. How could a pilot make a mistake like that? It  must have been a serious mechanical error. As we watched the TV the horror became revealed, and now antibiotics in hand we rushed home. Our brother in law flies for American -where is he? The kids at school-important they know Dad is OK...it was a flurry of frantic calls. and then the next blow-the Pentagon and all of a sudden my thoughts turned to our son at the Naval Academy. What was the scope of this -could he be in danger?

At the same time USNA was put on lock down. Upper class Midshipmen lent Plebes their phones  to call home to let parents know they were OK. Other calls went out from the Academy trying to find out if their parents and family members were alright. In a culture of service, many family members were firemen and policemen, and many had family members stationed at the Pentagon. At the end of that day 11 USNA grads were lost in the attacks, and more would be lost in the War on Terror in the years to come.

The Class of 2002 graduated and became warriors in that battle. Applications to the Naval Academy skyrocketed from 11,000 to 19,000 as a new generation felt the call to serve. And in the coming years each of my children would answer that call.

The economic blow was also a sucker punch. My husband's airline went bankrupt along with several others and thousands of pilots lost their retirement benefits. My husband retired and ultimately spent three years flying in Afghanistan -I joined him to teach in Kabul.

Those at ground zero lost everything. But the ripple effects are almost unfathomable-so many lives touched by such evil acts. Each of us has been affected in some way. I thank God each day for those who stepped up to serve in the midst of this war, and those on the home front who continue to support their troops. Let us teach the next generation and those to come to never forget, no matter how painful those memories may be. Let us honor those who have given the last full measure of devotion, in the air, on the land  and sea, or in the towers. Never forget.....

CRASH

"Mom, I was surprised you didn't call me about the crash? " CRASH?! I had heard about a possible F/18 crash but I had been very busy that week. When I googled I could find no mention of it. Besides my Marine was sick in Florida not in California....

My mom radar was definitely on the blink. As an aviator's mom(make that triple aviator's mom ) I scan the news daily for any mention of a mishap that might remotely involve my boys or any of their compadres. And when a news crawl or google alert pops up I am on the phone, if possible, checking  to make sure my kid is safely on the ground.

Such is the life of a military pilot's mom. It doesn't matter if they are deployed or not. Every day they do battle with physics. My Marine in his F/18 defies gravity and the speed of sound, flying way too close to another airplane to make a mom comfrotable. My P/3 NFO is up for hours in OLD airplanes-thankfully soon to be replaced. And my Army ROTC cadet in helicopters-those things fly way too close to the ground, don't you think?

But this accident snuck right past me. Thankfully the pilot-a buddy from flight school-and the  Whizzo escaped to tell the tale, despite sustaining serious injuries.

I should mention I am also the wife of an aviator who has flown for 40 years in and out of the military. I have seen the black smoke of an accident more than once. But when it is your kid at the stick, it brings the word worry to a whole new level.

When two of them deployed last year to the far east, people would ask me if I was relieved they weren't in Afghanistan. Not really-the skies they flew near were not necessarily friendly. But that is what they do -and they are proud of it. So I pray, and scan the news, and pray some more. The Navy Hymn has a verse for aviators " Lord guard and guide the men who fly...yes please do.

The safest way for Mom to fly..in the simulator

Flag Day

 A Flag Retirement ceremony in my little town-I have been asked to speak...


We are here today to honor the symbol of our country and retire a flag which has served its useful life as a symbol of freedom. What is so special about this flag that we should all come together to honor it in this manner? It is so much more that a colorful piece of cloth. For me it is a patch sewn on my childrens’ uniforms as they are serving harm’s way. It is a flag I took an oath to support and defend in my military service. It is a beacon of America on the 4th of July at the American Embassy in Afghanistan. It is a cloth draped over my father's coffin as he is laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery. What does this flag mean to you?

The song for Freedom by Avalon captures the stories of many of our fellow Americans. Picture this with me…
Somewhere a trumpet sounds in the night
A soldier is standing there
It’s calling him out to the stars and the stripes
It’s calling him God knows where
He kisses the ones he loves goodbyeand leaves in the dead of night
For freedom he’ll heed the call
Leave all he knows
And for freedom he’ll stand and fight
And somewhere a man and wife can’t believe they’re waving their girl goodbye
For gone are the days of pigtails and curls and candlelight lullabies
If they had their way she’d stay young foreverand never be far from home
But freedom has drawn her heart to danger’s shore
And for freedom they’ll let her go
And somewhere beneath the stars and the sky
Our flag is still standing there
She bled and she brought one land under God
Her colors still lead us there

"I am your Flag. I was born on June 14, 1777. I have led your children into battle from Valley Forge to Vietnam. I have been there though the Civil War, Two World wars, at Gettysburg, Flanders, Korea, the Gulf War, and now in Iraq and Afghanistan. I was there with George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, and I am here with you now. I have flown through Peace and War. Whether being raised in glory at the Olympic games or lifted above the wreckage of the World Trade center, I am the hope of America.Through strife and Prosperity, and amidst it all, I have always been respected. My red stripes symbolize the blood spilled in defense of this glorious nation. My white stripes, the burning tears shed by Americans who lost their sons and daughters in battle. My blue field represents God’s Heaven under which I fly, and my stars, clustered together, unify the fifty states as one for God and Country. I am "Old Glory" and I proudly wave on high. Honor me, respect me, and defend me with your lives. Never let our enemies tear me down from my lofty position, lest I never return. Keep alight the fires of patriotism, strive earnestly for the spirit of democracy, and keep me always as a symbol of freedom, liberty, and peace in our country. When it comes the time when I am old and faded, do not let me fly in disrepair, rather Retire me from my duties only to replace me with a new flag so that I may continue to symbolize our country. “

Last week I wrote my daughter and told her about this ceremony. She emailed me back from Ghazni Afghanistan. "There she stands by Michael W. Smith will never be the same to me. They played it for the two hours it took at the memorial for Tiexxx and Tomxxxxx(sic soliders killed in Kabul suicide bombing) to come forward, salute, kneel at the boot/rifle/helmet/dog tag display, and then stand and salute again.

There she stands
There she flies
Clear blue sky
Reminds us with red
Of those that died
Washed in white
By the brave
In their strength
She stands
When evil calls itself a martyr
When all your hopes come crashing down
Someone will pull her from the rubble
There she stands
We've seen her flying torn and tattered.
We've seen her stand the test of time.
And through it all the fools have fallen.
There she stands
By the dawn's early light
And through the fight She stands.

Today we will retire this flag that has become worn beyond repair. We will separate the blue field of stars from the red and white stripes. The pieces of cloth that were once a flag will be burned to ashes. The flag of our Nation should always be a strong, vivid symbol of our land and fly brightly in our minds. Our flag is a symbol of our people, our freedom, and our strength. What does this flag mean to you? I hope you never look at it the same way again. May the spirit of this flag be born again in the new flag we will now fly and in our hearts as Americans.

Memorial Day

In our little village there is a ceremony at the park every weekend before Memorial Day. The kids gather with their decorated bikes and follow the high school band to the park. There is a speaker and a high school student recites the Gettysburg Address-another recites " In Flanders Field the poppies blow beneath the crosses row on row..."

They asked me to speak this year. I wanted the kids to hear-that this is not just about very old people from long ago and far away. Here is my message:

The Winona Memorial Day Celebration-what sweet memories this day holds for me. Little toddlers dressed in red white and blue excitedly waiting for the band to play. A few years later they are solemn Cub Scouts raising the flag And during the tribute to the armed services when my husband and I stepped forward to the strains of “Off we go in to the wild blue yonder” they would beam with pride.




Fast forward twenty years –they are all grownup. Now I am a mom of four service members, one in each branch-a 4 Star Blue star mom. Family gatherings become a mix of inter service rivalry and bantering. But they share one thing in common-a value of service toward country. Duty Honor Commitment Courage-they have made a personal sacrifice for us all.



As a mom I am filled with pride as I watch them go forth into the world. They have amazed me with their strength and dedication. They credit their roots on the farm here in Winona with much of the toughness they needed to succeed elsewhere. The lessons of endurance, persistence, and cooperation that comes from a day of baling hay are priceless. Stacking bales in the top of the mow prepare you for the dusts of Afghanistan. Racing a thunderstorm to get the last wagon in before the storm hits is pretty similar to the stress of a carrier landing. And feeding the animals before you feed yourself is good preparation to taking care of men and women in your command. If you can catch a calf you can do an obstacle course. And if you shoot groundhogs, that experience might helpful when you have to travel with a weapon in your thigh holster.



But the reality is they don't get back home much anymore. With hot spots and bad guys all over the world they are pretty busy and Winona is a little off the beaten path. As I write this son #1 is finishing up his aerial combat training as a Marine F/18 pilot. During his past three years of training there have been multiple training accidents. He will soon join his squadron and be deployed in September. Son #2 is a P3 naval flight officer flying sub hunting missions and supporting Haiti relief efforts. He and his wife are expecting the first child in November and he will most likely deploy again when the baby is five months old. Son #3 is working through his helicopter ratings in Army ROTC and will attend Air Assault School this summer where he will rappel out of helicopters. This is the same child I would not let use the big slide here in the park because it was too high. And my daughter, who loved to swing and hang upside down here is currently deployed in Afghanistan. Instead of her majorette uniform she wears a flak jacket –instead of gold ribbons in her hair she wears a Kevlar helmet.



They make personal sacrifices every day to serve-and so do we parents. They do not live down the road, they cannot come home whenever they want, and now they are in harm’s way. As a mom I don't like to think about that too much- there are times when it is better just to turn off the news or not read the newspaper. There are times when a chill just washes over you as you think about what might happen-it is my worst nightmare.



When we put flowers on the memorial stones and remember I think about those mothers and father whose worst nightmares came true. And in the midst of deepest loss the greatest comfort is to know that your loved one lives mattered and are worth remembering.



So when we remember all those that have served and those who gave the greatest gift-remember that some of them were once little kids who ran among the fields of Winona. They grew up and decided to make a commitment to serve their country. It meant leaving home and those they loved knowing they just might not make it back. That is a lot to ask and to give –and they deserve our utmost respect and admiration



It’s not easy being a mom. We do the best we can to raise them right to keep them safe. That doesn't change whether they are 3 or 23. Being a military mom is even harder. We have to let go and share them with the country and even the world while we wait at home for an email or phone call to know that for the moment they are ok.



I have a sign at the end of my driveway that reads “A piece of my heart in Afghanistan”. I could add over the skies of the world. They are my most precious treasures – I appreciate that you are here today to honor them and all those who serve. And I look forward to a day when they can all be home for the Memorial Day celebration-maybe with their own children trying to climb the big slide.



God Bless our troops and all who hold them dear.



Momma B

Mom

I am a mom-soccer mom, track mom, football mom , ballet mom, no you can’t watch TV until you finish your homework is done mom, do the right thing mom , Army mom, Navy mom, Air Force mom, Marine mom . I am even a helicopter mom since one of my sons is training in helicopters!


I have been protecting my brood since before they were born. As a mama bird tends her nest, I fluttered about finding all the right ingredients to make strong little birds. My other job as mom was developing their wings in all kinds of ways. I wanted them to soar, fly in the face of adversity, and become competent birds who could navigate the big world around them.

And now–they are off and out of the nest. Most of the time, I am filled with pride and joy as I watch them rise to their potential. But there are days when I wish they were safe in the nest again. When I contemplate a sweet baby head of blonde curls now cradled in Kevlar my mother’s heart aches. Gone are the days when I can keep them safe-it is in God’s Hands. And so I look His words and leave them to His protection.

I am reminded of a favorite song based on His word… On Eagles Wings by Michael Joncas. Here is the refrain :

And He will lift you up on eagle's wings,

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun,

And Hold you in the palm of his Hand.

I am glad there is room for me in His Hand as well.