24 shining stones

I really don't feel much like writing. It's been one of those not so good days, when I wish I could have stayed in bed. It's not like anything really went wrong, I must have just rolled out of bed on the wrong side. Well, which is the good side when there are 3 children in bed with you? I didn't even have a "side" of the bed to sleep on, more like 6-8 inches. But every so often I have a day when I'm sure I am going to lose my mind - when I'm sure I can't take another day of this. I'm tired, I'm lonely, I need an adult to talk to. So, tonight I read from the book of Ether in the Book of Mormon. For those of you who aren't familiar with this story, the Book of Ether is about a separate group of people at the time of the Tower of Babel, when the Lord confounded the language of the people so they couldn't understand one another. It was a consequence of their wickedness (to think they could build a tower tall enough to reach heaven!). Anyway, Jared, his brother, and their families and friends are preserved by the hand of the Lord and are preparing to cross the ocean to get to a promised land. The Lord instructs them to make vessels that are tight enough to keep out water (but also air and light). The people are afraid to travel such a long way in the darkness, and come up with a solution. The brother of Jared cuts some clear stones and asks God to touch them to make them shine so the people have light on their trip, which He mercifully does. There's a whole part of the story that goes with this encounter, but I'm skipping it to keep this generally brief. Anyway, the voyage takes 344 days. Can you imagine being trapped inside a ship, on the ocean, without seeing the sun often (they had a small hole to let in air, which they had to keep plugged some of the time because of storms and tall waves). Could you imagine doing this in total darkness? Luckily, they don't have to make the trip in total darkness because of the light from the stones. Anyway, the people miraculously don't complain, and when the reach the land, they get out of the boats (probably kiss the land), and thank God for his tender mercies. 344 Days of rolling, stormy seas, and they were uncomplaining and grateful after so long? Tracy has been in Iraq 341 days. We have our own stormy days too, days like today. There is a very well known Conference talk given by Elder Bednar on this topic, the Tender Mercies of the Lord. It is all about the small and simple ways the Lord shows his love for us. For Jared, his brother, and their families, he was merciful enough to give them light for their journey. He didn't miraculously whisk them straight to the promised land to spare them pain or suffering, but he gave them the small miracle of the stones, a reminder of who was really in charge of their safety and lives. Similarly, for us these past months, he hasn't taken away the fatigue, or the loneliness, or the stress of this deployment, not totally anyway. But he has given us many little miracles to help us get through day to day. We have wonderful, loving neighbors and friends, hugely supportive family (who always seem to know when to call or send care packages). We have friends from church. This past Sunday I was reminded of all the support we get from our church friends. One of our home teachers (who was passing the sacrament at the time) returned my kids' waves and smiles. Emma went to sit on the bench between her favorite two babysitters, and TJ sat with our neighbors. I sat in the back with Nathan (and a few extra friends who wandered over) and was grateful for the sustaining love I feel from all the people around me. It's good to have a reminder, even on the bad days, that God is really in charge. That even though I can't see his plan for my life, He knows the plan he has for me and for our family. Now, with the end in sight (we're under 20 days now!) it's my turn to come through this deployment voyage with a grateful heart, thankful for the tender mercies of the Lord.

Home

Ok, I'm an adult. I watch Disney Channel movies. Is that so wrong? I get tired of 30 channels of Law and Order at night, or whatever the current adult themed drama is. I get tired of the reality shows and the game shows. TV for adults is either too adult, or too lame for me. So, I've been channel surfing with Disney. It's about my speed. I was actually planning to watch Disney tonight, the opening weekend of High School Musical II. Here's my reason. It was filmed in my hometown of St. George (in Southern Utah). My boys and I stayed up late watching all those disney kids prancing around my old turf - hanging out on the golf course, running through the sprinklers, watching the stars at night (no trees in the way), hiking (or in their case bouncing) on the red sandstone. Doing all the things I used to do as a kid when I lived there. It was such a tremendous feeling of deja vu. I found myself getting homesick right then for the place - well, not necessarily just for the place, for the whole experience- being there as a kid, with a whole life ahead of me. That was the place where I met and fell in love with my husband. He's in a lot of those memories too, and I really miss him. (Or obviously I would have some better things to be doing at night than watching the Disney channel).
And I've been thinking about my own kids. Right now my boys think of texas as home, because that's where they lived the longest. My daughter thinks of this place as home. She was only one when we moved from Texas. We're planning another move after the first of the year. My boys are already upset about it. My oldest, TJ had a horrible day yesterday. He was plain old mean to everyone - his friends were furious with him. When I asked him what in the world was up with him he cried and cried. It took him a while to catch his breath and tell me that his missed his friend (the one who moved back to Kuwait), and that he didn't want to move away from here. He wanted all our friends to stay here, permanently, too.
So, seeing this movie tonight, with all my memories - I guess that was the first time I really wondered how our military lifestyle and its frequent moves might feel to my kids. Maybe it will be more difficult for them than I thought it would be. I mean, we make friends and watch them leave with regularity. We'll do our own leaving soon - relocating to a new state for only a year, then on to somewhere else. Sure, they get to meet so many people, see so much of the country, but maybe it isn't all good. Kids like stability, predictability, and those words aren't in the Army dictionary. Will they be ok? Will this be bad for them, in a permanent, life-changing way? I sure hope not.
The good news is that the Army family is only so big. We'll run into people we know wherever we go. In fact, our next door neighbors may follow us to our new duty station just a few months behind us. That made all the difference to TJ - knowing his friends would be there too. So maybe he won't really have one "home", or place, where he grew up. But maybe his big (Army) family will be enough. I hope so.

International life in a rural setting

Tomorrow morning our Kuwaiti friends are leaving here to return home. It's an interesting thing, striking up a friendship with people when there is very little common language involved - but somehow it has worked. Maybe some aspects of friendship don't need much shared language. It was my brother's idea to write about it.
So, it all started with a game of Uno. That part you know. It's ironic to me that during the same time that my husband is in Iraq, immersed in this culture, we get neighbors from Kuwait. How strange is that? These past two months have felt like some wierd split parallel universe - an American in the Middle East, and the Middle East comes to America. However it happened, It's provided Tracy and I with more common knowledge to use in our discussions about Middle Eastern politics and culture. He shares some Arabic phrases for me to use with our neighbors, I tell him what it's like to attend a segregated dinner party. It's also turned simple neighborhood birthday parties into something resembling a UN Summit meeting. There are at least 3 different languages and often as many as 5 nationalities present (Poland, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, India, and us). I'm becoming skilled at pantomime and pidgeon English. It's stressful, at times. I don't want to risk offending my new friends by not accepting their food or drink, but I don't drink coffee or caffeinated tea (I'm Mormon) but how do you explain this to an Arabic woman in full burqua who brings her china tea set to the party to share her gingered coffee with us? Who doesn't speak English? I didn't even try. I just took the miniature tea cup and thanked her. It is very strange to see the Arabic women here - completely robed, having picnics at the park. It's not what you would think of when you think US Army.....
So, about a week ago, our Kuwaiti neighbors invited me and the kids over for dinner. This was the third time at least they've fed us - wonderful baked chicken and rice with raisins, stuffed grape leaves, tabouli. When my mom and stepdad flew out to visit, they insisted on making dinner for us all - but the flight was late, and they ended up just sending the food over late at night for us to eat in the morning. The first dinner party I attended should have prepared me a little for the most recent. While there were mainly Americans there - soldiers and wives, there were also many Middle Eastern men there. After dinner, the men made a circle with their chairs and brought out these tower pipes (my husband knows what these are called, I don't). My oldest son cheerfully went about trying to convince each of the men of the hazzards of smoking until I could drag him away to play with his friends. The women sat on the outskirts, kind of misplaced and forgotten. It felt very strange. So at this most recent party, my children and I were the only Americans who attended. After getting some strange looks when I sat down outside in the chairs set up there, I was ushered in by the older girls to one of the bedrooms in the house, where some appetizers and coffee were placed on a rug in the middle of the floor. The women came in, closed the door, took off their veils, said their prayers individually on a small rug. My children wandered in and out, even the boys (which I was told was OK since they were only children.) How weird that it should matter. It was difficult for me, because it was a school night, and the time was getting on - by the time we were served our own food it was past nine o'clock. I tried to wander in and out myself to keep better track of the kids, but one of the girls always came to fetch me - "Come, Miss Lisa, Come." I really wasn't quite sure how the kids were going to be taken care of or watched (and was thankful for very good neighbors who I'm sure were close by). We ate the same food as the men, just from completely separate dishes, and after the men were done eating - all closed in by ourselves in our segregated room. The Arabic women were clearly comfortable with this. They chatted with me and with each other. My Kuwaiti friend told them all I was "sister, sister". It's similar to "Army family" - how we think of our close friends and neighbors here. I didn't stay long because I really had to get my kids in bed. After they settled down for the night I had plenty to think about. The experience was pretty far outside my comfort zone because what it means to be a woman in this culture is so practically different. As shy as I can be, I didn't like feeling so invisible. I understand modesty, I really do, but I don't understand the burqua. And I have serious concerns that when you are invisible as a woman, you are at risk for being mistreated. If you want some fictional but probably pretty true to life pictures of this risk, read "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. It's a story about two women in Afghanistan during the many years of recent conflict. On reason I have loved my Kuwaiti friends is that I can tell they love each other. The father treats the mother and children well, they are happy. The children are well-mannered and kind. They are good to my kids when mine don't deserve it. But I worry about their two beautiful daughters. Will their husbands be as kind and good? What will their life be like? Maybe I am concerned for nothing - this is what they know, how they understand life to work. Maybe living differently would make them uncomfortable. I don't know.
So, how did I wind up with Arabic friends, who are so different from me? I may not understand their definition of modesty, but I do understand the desire to be a faithful wife and loving mother. I know what it is like to leave your friends and move somewhere where you are a stranger (even though I've only done this in America). I understand wanting to broaden the horizons of my children by exposing them to new people and places. And part of me knows that our country and culture is not always well received by our Middle Eastern friends. Why not try a little harder to dispell any American myths they may have. Maybe this is a baby step toward peace. I'm happy with baby steps. I'm also eternally grateful that my daughter will grow up an American.

AWOL book review

Today is Independence Day, a perfect day for finishing a book like AWOL: The Unexcused Absence of America's Upper Classes from Military Service - and How it Hurts our Country, by Kathy Roth-Douquet and Frank Schaeffer.

I'm relatively new to the culture of the military. Although my husband has about 18 years or more of time in the National Guard, I was very much removed from most of the military culture. Tracy usually drilled 4 hours away from wherever we lived, so I only met the other soldiers and their families for special occasions - Christmas parties and the like. All that changed when we arrived here - our first duty post as full-timers. While there are some challenges, I have really loved it. I love the sense of community here, the closeness with our neighbors, the many smart, independent women I've met. In fact, I recently returned to Bryn Mawr for a reunion (the first I had attended), and many of my college friends complained about feeling isolated, or not having a community of interesting, intelligent women to be around. "Not me," I told them, which it totally true. I wouldn't replace my college friends (or any of my Utah or Texas friends either), but I have been continually surprised by the kind of support and friendship military families extend to one another. They have to find support somewhere - moving every couple of years, often living hundreds or thousands of miles away from family. Plus the deployments - If you don't have a good dose of independence before these, you soon learn some.
Anyway, back to the book. Written by two military family members - one a spouse of a marine (Kathy Douquet, she also happens to be a Bryn Mawr alum - and political campainer for Bill Clinton. Her stories didn't always go down well with me). The other author is a father of a marine; both are well-educated and self-proclaimed upper class folks. As the title describes, the book describes the relatively recent (within the past 50 years) significant decline in numbers of upper class kids who join the military. The authors reported that if you look back to the Constitution, the founding fathers pictured a military that was representative of the population, a citizen/soldier model. They shunned the idea of a professional military class of people (bad experience with the Hessians?), suspicious of the development of any kind of "elite-led caste" that could influence public policy. However, military service was a point of pride, it was an honor to be able to serve our country. The authors noted that this sentiment is often lacking today. The focus today seems to be more like "what can you do for me?" Military service is portrayed not as the "patriotic" thing to do, an honorable way to give back, but a way for poorer kids to earn money for college, or a good trade for people who don't have other choices. The authors clearly pointed out that most current military personelle really do join to serve their country - and this desire to serve is often misunderstood by others. (hear, hear!)
The authors also noted that significant problems can develop if our "ruling class" are not personally invested in our military. It's easy, with the high level of professionalism generally presented by the military, to send them off to solve problems in other parts of the world. Would our leaders think these decisions through more carefully if their own children were in uniform? Would they be as likely to send our troops out ill-prepared and ill-equiped if their own sons and daughters were among those serving? And, with the lack of military experience in our leaders, who will be able to advise them about the feasability of military operations? All great questions!
I can't really do the book justice with just a paragraph or two. I highly recommend it to any grateful citizen of our country. Happy 4th!

Funny things the kids say

My kids are hilarious. They come up with some very interesting statements at times. Thought I'd have a place to record these as they occur. Here's the latest TJ (age 7) comment.

Yesterday he was playing with his feet, flipped a bird with his toes. "Mom, is this an obscure gesture?" he asked. "Yes TJ, yes it is." my reply.

vacation pictures

Ode to our deceased gerbils

I had a gerbil, but he died.
I don’t know how, I’m mystified!
Maybe my little sister’s hug
For gerbils- was a bit too snug.
We dried our tears and bought another.
(We think it was our gerbil’s brother).
And mom, I wonder how she knew,
That this time we should purchase two.
These gerbils lasted slightly longer,
Grew up leary, bigger, stronger.
But Tylegnaw would rue the day
He ever tried to run away!
It seems his running days were through,
When he ran underneath my shoe.

Concerned our gerbils were too frail,
Mom asked if we would like a snail,
Or something sturdy and robust.
(An exoskeleton’s a must!)
When baby turtle came along,
We were thrilled! What could go wrong?
Our turtle, speedy as a mouse-
We think he’s somewhere in the house.
We’ve left some food out in the hall,
But haven’t seen him, not at all.
We’ll find him, surely as he sneaks.
We’re good – it’s only been 8 weeks.

Our final, lonely gerbil gent,
Was in a little accident.
He hit his head – no, not so wise,
And wound up mostly paralyzed.
Sweet thing, I loved him anyway.
(At least he couldn’t run away).
When someone used him for a seat,
Our gerbil graveyard was complete.

Sadly, there was one pet more-
A hermit crab found at the shore.
This pet had no staying power.
He lasted only half an hour.
It was really not my fault
I added too much table salt.
A cup of water from the tap
Was not his ocean habitat!

I’m pet-less, now, maybe for good.
I’d bring them all back if I could.
Don’t judge too swiftly, for I’m small.
I did my best and loved them all.
And though I cry and beg and moan,
Mom said no pets till dad gets home.
Unless I find a nice bullfrog-
I’ll have to wait to get a dog!


(It is all sad and true).