Thoughts on my Military Spouse Friends as They Prepare to Move

The other day as I was going about my daily business, something profound occurred to me.  It happened like this:

• Driving down the street, child in tow (child probably anxious to be dropped off somewhere).  A block away from home I notice a friend with her dog.  We pull over and chat for a minute or two.
• Same drive, in McDonald's drive-thru getting questionably sustaining sustenance for child in tow.  Molly (in the back seat) starts whining.  We can't, for the life of us, figure out why.  As the car ahead of us pulls away, we realize that it holds her walking buddy, Sharik the Bulldog.
• Same drive, pulling into the parking lot of my local grocery store.  I notice one of my very favorite Starbucks employees (who has since moved on) coming out of Starbucks.  I pull over to chat for a minute or two.

• Exit car and go into local grocery store where I find not just one, but two friends, with which I stop to chat for a minute or two.
• Driving home from store, same day, seriously, Molly and I wave at two more dog-walking friends.  For the record: we do not pull over to chat.

As I'm pulling into the driveway, it hits me.  This place--this neighborhood and the people who fill it--have become my home.  If this were like any of our previous tours of duty, I would likely be arriving to a house filled with boxes.  I would likely be packing.  I would likely be preparing to pull up roots and move on.  I'm not, but if this were like any of our previous tours of duty, I would be:

• Juggling end-of-school-year activities/concerts/award ceremonies/celebrations with trying to find summer activities from a distance for children who will enter a new life with no friendship save that of each other.
• Researching school districts and commuting distances and camps and sports and available medical care.
• Scheduling complete strangers to come into my house to handle and pack (and sometimes break) every physical thing that makes this life mine.
• Signing a mortgage or a lease on a home I may never have laid eyes on.
• Planning travel, by car or plane, for people and animals, to my new life.
• Detaching emotionally, out of necessity, from the friends/neighbors/teachers/coaches/church members/confidants of the last three years.
• Feeling fear and trepidation and excitement at the adventure that awaits.

And friends, please hear me, that is the easy part.

The hard part comes when you find yourself in an empty house with lonely children and no possible remedy.  The hard part is when you are aching with loneliness yourself, but still putting on a brave face for them.  The hard part is making friends...again.  Putting yourself out there...again.  Finding a woman who shares your interests, your values, and whose kids your kids like and whose husband your husband likes.  Talking yourself into having the energy required to build new relationships.  Finding the proper venues for your children to build healthy relationships.  Finding your way around..and then finding the shortcuts all the locals know.  Finding a hairdresser, for Pete's sake.  Finding a church.  Finding a church that fits every member of your family.  Not comparing every church to the one you just left, and not comparing every church person to the church people you just left, who have suddenly become perfect, even though they annoyed you just last month.  Plugging in, even though it is easier to remain distant.  Knowing that life, your old life, is marching on without you, while you sit in this foreign land, lonely.

Not all of these things always happen, but a good percentage of the time a good percentage of them do.  Sometimes it's easier, sometimes there is a person with whom you immediately click who can help you find your way.  Sometimes, though, you are an island.  And women, the military spouses of whom I speak, are islands supporting the full weight of their families.  Sometimes we do it well, others not so much.  The fact is, and remains, that we do it.  Over and over again, we do it.

So.  What do I want you to take away from this little lesson?  Please, please take this:

Reach out when you can.  Help and guide and befriend.  Gather their children and make them feel welcome (this is the biggest gift you can offer).  Send them off with love, and never truly let them go.  Always, always keep them in your prayers.

I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine making request for you all with joy...  Phillipians 1:3-4