“Only the broken heart has the ghost of a chance to grieve, to forgive, to long, to transform.” –Christina Baldwin
I don’t know of anything that has changed me as radically as becoming a parent. When the babies were born, everything changed. Many of the changes were expected—sleepless nights, a focus on the endless cycle of feeding-and-changing, a new identity and priorities, a different relationship with my spouse, and then more sleepless nights. There were unexpected changes, too, and these required more than a modified sleep schedule or a safer car.
As I gained the understanding that my son Adam was developing differently from his twin brother and most children, when I began hearing from medical professionals that his potential and possibilities in life would be “significantly reduced,” I began the process that would change how I see the world and myself. For a time, all I could do was feel my loss and honor my grief.
I am a military wife.
This is an identity I never anticipated claiming. The daughter of a father who was drafted during Vietnam, I have not always held the military in the highest esteem. Even when I worked at the VA with veterans of all ages, I did not envision myself as married to a servicemember in a million years! I have always respected military servicemembers, and appreciated their service. But to be honest, I really had no interest in being part of that system! And yet, years later, I claim this identity with admiration and appreciation for my spouse and her commitment to service as a Captain in the United States Air Force Reserve.
Life works in mysterious ways, and is constantly stretching me. When I fell in love with Susan, it became clear that the military would become part of my life. While this is not always easy, I know that her status as a “future-minister’s wife” is no walk in the park either! But each of us feels called to our vocations, and it is amazing to have a partner who understands what it feels like to be called. And, as a friend of mine described perfectly, it is a voluntary military and a voluntary marriage. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.
I am a military wife.
This is an identity I never anticipated claiming. The daughter of a father who was drafted during Vietnam, I have not always held the military in the highest esteem. Even when I worked at the VA with veterans of all ages, I did not envision myself as married to a servicemember in a million years! I have always respected military servicemembers, and appreciated their service. But to be honest, I really had no interest in being part of that system! And yet, years later, I claim this identity with admiration and appreciation for my spouse and her commitment to service as a Captain in the United States Air Force Reserve.
Life works in mysterious ways, and is constantly stretching me. When I fell in love with Susan, it became clear that the military would become part of my life. While this is not always easy, I know that her status as a “future-minister’s wife” is no walk in the park either! But each of us feels called to our vocations, and it is amazing to have a partner who understands what it feels like to be called. And, as a friend of mine described perfectly, it is a voluntary military and a voluntary marriage. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.
I write this entry at the beginning of a new journey for us, one week after Susan began a 6-month deployment to Afghanistan. This deployment came as a bit of a surprise to us, as it was originally planned to start in October. Needless to say, it has been an adjustment to have her away. But life is one big adjustment, isn’t it? Just when we feel comfortable somewhere or with someone, things shift. What a ride!
And so, I have joined the ranks of thousands of other women and men who are spouses and partners to servicemembers in the United States Armed Forces. It is not a role I completely understand as of yet, and I learn at least one new thing every day about what is expected and necessary for the support of such a calling. I am learning how to respond to people’s questions about where she is, and why she serves. I am learning how to explain what it is like to have my spouse on the other side of the world on a base in a place that is fraught with violence and conflict. And I am learning how to be there for her, and provide support and love across the miles and time zones and technical difficulties.
And I have come to learn that I have more in common with “military wives” than I once thought. I’m related to some of them! When my father was drafted during Vietnam, he and my mother were married two weeks before he left for a 6-month tour. And years before that, my aunt and uncle were married just before my uncle left to serve on a submarine for a 6-month tour. Both of their marriages are still strong, and loving, and solid after 50 and 42 years, respectively. So when other military spouses tell me that this deployment will make my marriage stronger, I can’t help but believe them.
The next six months will bring challenges, as all experiences in life do. But they will also offer opportunities for reflection, appreciation, and transformation.
People say that time changes us; that with every new experience or event in our lives, we are somehow altered. While I think this is somewhat true, I tend to embrace a different framework. I embrace the idea that time does not change us, but rather unfolds us. This is a saying attributed to Max Frisch. It is a quote that I have hanging in my living room, next to a picture of me and my wife. The picture is of our hands, intertwined in one another, and the ribbons we used in our handfasting ceremony during our wedding service. It is a testament to the nature of our relationship, as a consistently evolving and transformative experience; the openness to love one another, and the potential for unfolding that is inherent within.
This idea of our lives unfolding is the way I think about the concept of transformation. While people can certainly change throughout their lifetimes, it seems that with each passing day, we mostly become more and more who we are. And so it is in marriage, parenting, and any relationship where we are invested and committed. Such relationships help us to go beyond ourselves, and see things from a different perspective. This change in our lens helps us to see our strengths and gifts, and areas where there is room to grow. It seems that at the core of who we are, there is potential for growth and transformation. In each of those relationships, we learn more about ourselves, and the way we are in the world.
Just as a tree takes on different shapes and sizes throughout its lifespan, from seed to sapling, to sturdy oak, so do we as human beings. We are constantly emerging, growing, and changing shape. For many of us, this includes assuming new roles or taking on new responsibilities. Ideally, I suppose these roles would all converge into one and we would be integrated and whole beings. But that is so difficult sometimes!
Often, our roles conflict with one another, or cause tension in our lives or relationships. But even in those moments, there is a potential for growth and unfolding; there is a chance for transformation. We unfold across our lifespan, and grow more into who we are. In those instances, there is also a possibility of transformation for others’ ideas about us and the many roles we hold. The potential for transformation, for learning, and for understanding lies within us and around us. Perhaps the key to such a discovery or development lies in our ability to live the journey and be open to all of the things (good and bad) that we might realize about ourselves. And perhaps the most effective thing we can do is not strive to become someone or something else, or to change who we are, but to let our lives unfold to exhibit the transformation that has taken place.
People say that time changes us; that with every new experience or event in our lives, we are somehow altered. While I think this is somewhat true, I tend to embrace a different framework. I embrace the idea that time does not change us, but rather unfolds us. This is a saying attributed to Max Frisch. It is a quote that I have hanging in my living room, next to a picture of me and my wife. The picture is of our hands, intertwined in one another, and the ribbons we used in our handfasting ceremony during our wedding service. It is a testament to the nature of our relationship, as a consistently evolving and transformative experience; the openness to love one another, and the potential for unfolding that is inherent within.
This idea of our lives unfolding is the way I think about the concept of transformation. While people can certainly change throughout their lifetimes, it seems that with each passing day, we mostly become more and more who we are. And so it is in marriage, parenting, and any relationship where we are invested and committed. Such relationships help us to go beyond ourselves, and see things from a different perspective. This change in our lens helps us to see our strengths and gifts, and areas where there is room to grow. It seems that at the core of who we are, there is potential for growth and transformation. In each of those relationships, we learn more about ourselves, and the way we are in the world.
Just as a tree takes on different shapes and sizes throughout its lifespan, from seed to sapling, to sturdy oak, so do we as human beings. We are constantly emerging, growing, and changing shape. For many of us, this includes assuming new roles or taking on new responsibilities. Ideally, I suppose these roles would all converge into one and we would be integrated and whole beings. But that is so difficult sometimes!
Often, our roles conflict with one another, or cause tension in our lives or relationships. But even in those moments, there is a potential for growth and unfolding; there is a chance for transformation. We unfold across our lifespan, and grow more into who we are. In those instances, there is also a possibility of transformation for others’ ideas about us and the many roles we hold. The potential for transformation, for learning, and for understanding lies within us and around us. Perhaps the key to such a discovery or development lies in our ability to live the journey and be open to all of the things (good and bad) that we might realize about ourselves. And perhaps the most effective thing we can do is not strive to become someone or something else, or to change who we are, but to let our lives unfold to exhibit the transformation that has taken place.
Early on, I grew to love tramping through the woods hunting edible mushrooms. The little depressions filled with pine litter that bloomed after a rain in late summer into a patch of golden chanterelles, the snag that drew woodpeckers seeking sustenance flushing twice a year with the heavy fruit of sulfur shell, the sandy dry patches that bore tiny black trumpets were each and all seasonal treasures of transformation. One wonderful and magical place became yet another. The leaf litter changed to leaf mold and then back to earth and from that once again mushrooms, herbs, and trees grew anew.
Once we harvested those mushrooms, of course, another transformation went on—we washed and cut and cooked them. Those fungi nourished us, changing again. And what we did not eat or could not use went into the compost, to change again to nourishing earth.
Transformation is life, including the transformation that results in death and decay.
Podcast: Download (4.9MB)
Subscribe: More
Forty to one. That’s the ratio of sap to maple syrup in the long, slow process of creating the amber sweetness my family used to boil and bottle every spring. It’s a ratio that tells you something about the time and determination required to make syrup, but it gives no hint of the longer arc of transformation that makes it possible. Read more →
Podcast: Download (2.4MB)
Subscribe: More
If Unitarian Universalism stands for love, it is wed to freedom. Freedom invites vision. Vision leads to change. Change causes anxiety. Anxiety awakens resistance. Abolitionist Frances Ellen Watkins Harper sought freedom from bondage for blacks and suffrage for women. Mary and Joseph F. Jordan sought to free blacks from poverty through education.
Podcast: Download (1.3MB)
Subscribe: More
Let us be dissatisfied until America will no longer have a high blood pressure of creeds and an anemia of deeds.
Let us be dissatisfied until the tragic walls that separate the outer city of wealth and comfort from the inner city of poverty and despair shall be crushed by the battering rams of the forces of justice.
Can you give $5 or more to sustain the ministries of the Church of the Larger Fellowship?
If preferred, you can text amount to give to 84-321
Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.