Movies, Manicures, and Good Kids

Do you want to teach your kids to think about someone else's needs before their own? Marry a cop. After being told their whole 4-6 years on this earth, "Be quiet; Daddy is sleeping!" or "Let's save that last giant banana muffin for when Daddy gets home," or "No, I can't open the present you made me at school because Daddy will want to see it too, and he doesn't wake

up for three more hours," my latest request of my children must not have sounded too absurd, because they quickly agreed, and took it like champs. "Let's have an upstairs party on Christmas!" I suggested. "We can watch movies on the guest bed, read books, play games, paint our nails, and eat our food off of trays like princesses. We won't go downstairs to see our presents or stockings until Daddy gets home at 2." They were so excited! The four year old did plead only twice to be allowed to only peek at her presents, but when I said no, because Daddy really wanted to do that with her, and we wouldn't want him to miss that special time, she resignedly agreed, and went back to our game of Go Fish. When Daddy finally did come home, my kids cleaned up the room with me (without complaining)while he changed, and then when we let them run down the stairs to see their presents, they took it all in, and then my oldest begged for us to open our present first, since she had made it at school and had been dying for us to see it. I felt so proud as a mama to have kids who were so willing to forgo the usual early-wake-up-race-to-see-what-Santa-brought out of consideration for their Daddy and his feelings, and so amazed at how patiently they bore the waiting. But I don't just have sweet, marvelous children on Christmas day, as if it is some kind of Christmas miracle (And don't get me wrong- they are normal, human children with their rotten moments). These kids have been through the academy for police children: his night shifts (play quietly and no friends over) and missed activities (Daddy loves you but he can't see your Christmas program), the tiptoe-through-the-house times (Daddy had a bad day at work, so let's let him rest), and the babysitter shuffle (Grandma will pick you up from school because Daddy is overtime again). They have heard it all, and they have been both toughened and softened by it. They are able to function if he suddenly can't be there for them, and also particularly delighted if he can be (much more than if I am there, since I always am). They are Daddy's girls to the core, and that same consideration they extend to him by playing quietly or saving him their last treat, they also extend to others. They are concerned and caring; they are attentive to the needs of the people around them, but to be completely honest,at the same time slightly merciless. If someone has been hurt because they were not following the rules, they have very little compassion, and that is just as much our fault as their consideration for people who do follow the rules. All this to say, if you are thinking about or have already married a police officer, be prepared to teach your kids to sacrifice their selfishness on the altar of family. And then get ready to stand back in awe on the day they show you, wholeheartedly, that they can. Merry Christmas!

Fresh Wells and New Beginnings

The other night I read a Bible story to my girls about Isaac, Abraham's son, who was trying to provide clean water for his people by digging wells (Genesis 26:18-25). Each time his men completed the digging on a new well, however, other men would come and claim it, taking the land and water rights that Isaac and his people needed to survive. Isaac had to move to a new place and start over, only to have the same thing happen again; the same men came after them and claimed the well and the land, forcing Isaac to move once more. The third time, after the well was completed, no one came to fight over it, and Isaac was able to stay there. He named the well "Rehoboth," which meant "room." He had finally found a place where there would be clean water and enough room for everyone, a place where his family could grow and prosper. God even appeared to Isaac that night and told him "Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bless you and will increase the number of your descendants" (Gen. 26:24). Christmas is a time when we want to be in a familiar place, surrounded by family and friends. We want to be somewhere comfortable; we want to be loved. But sometimes, due to circumstances we can't control, we are far from home; we have our little family around us but not the loud, noisy, warm, happy crowd we grew up with. God has, for some reason, allowed us to be driven from where we would choose to be. What wells have you dug, just to be forced to walk away and begin again somewhere else? We were uprooted from our home in California and compelled to start life all over in Washington about five years ago. It was painful, and still is at times, especially during the holidays, when we know everyone is still getting together and life is going on without us, and we are missing it. We are comforted, though, when we look around and see how God has blessed what we do have, how He has added to our little life here. We have our lovely little Abby Hope, who was not in the plans back in California. We have a growing extended family, which has added a niece to our family tree each year for the last two years, and we are expecting another little girl in my brother's house in April. Our circle of friends has grown, and they are the kind that "sticks closer than a brother," as we discovered through Jeff's trial this summer. We have been blessed beyond imagining; we have not all we want but far more than we need. We may have gained and lost a few wells, but we have settled for now in a place that God is blessing richly. If you are having to give up your well, one you have dug with blood, sweat, and tears, and you don't see how it can ever be replaced, take heart. "But I said, 'I have labored to no purpose; I have spent my strength in vain and for nothing. Yet what is due me is in the Lord's hand, and my reward is with my God" (Isaiah 49:4). Don't be afraid to begin again, don't be afraid, for the Master of all wells is with you, and He is waiting to pour out buckets of blessings from a new well you may not even be able to imagine yet. "Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland" Isaiah 43:28. May His streams of fresh blessings wash over you this Christmas season; may you not regret what has been lost but look around at what has been given and ahead to what is still to come through Jesus. Merry Christmas!

Allowing Him to Decompress

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Philippians 2:3-4 “Better to live on the corner of the roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife.” Proverbs 21:9 I have been back at work for about eight months now as I write this, and have learned well the ups and downs of being a working mom. If you are a mom who works outside the home, you will understand when I say that it is a good day indeed when everyone gets out the door on time with breakfast in their tummies and no one has been driven to screaming, Mom included. I have forgotten to send lunch (oh, I packed it, but it never made it out of the fridge), or homework (still sitting on the kitchen table), or the picture day form (that’s why there is a make-up picture day, right?), but somehow, we press on. Some days I do my makeup in the car, and some days my breakfast is a handful of Wheat Thins. But when I come home, everyone runs to the door, and small voices squeal my name: “Mama! It’s Mama!” My little girls leap onto me like monkeys onto a tree, and I drag them into the kitchen so I can throw my things down and hug them properly. I give my sweetheart a hug and a kiss, because he is on day shift right now and is there to pick the kids up from school and make dinner, and I gratefully sit for a minute, eating and listening to everyone tell about their day. Then my real job begins: help with homework, clean up dinner, do some laundry, pack lunches, give baths and read stories, brush teeth and tuck sleepy little girls into bed, sing a song, make time to snuggle with my honey and have a bowl of popcorn or a cup of tea, and finally drag my own sleepy body off to bed so I can start over again tomorrow. I’m grateful that I have a desk job, since my sitting at home is limited to the time it takes to consume one bowl of popcorn. If you are a woman who does not work outside of your home, you are no less busy, I know. We never stop, do we? There is always something to be done, since we never leave our workplace. Our husbands are different, you may have noticed. They need to leave work at work, for sanity reasons. They need a separation between who they have to be as enforcers of the law and who they need to be as husbands and fathers. It is crucial that we give our husbands the time, space, and permission to unwind and decompress after work so they can be re-energized to to spend time with us and our families. They need to feel that they have our blessing to spend time away from us with their friends as well. Just as it is wise to let some of the steam out of a pot before you remove the lid completely, your man needs to blow off some steam before he can deal with his family, or someone may get burned. This does not mean you must tiptoe around your husband as though he is a bomb about to go off, but it does mean you need to be considerate. I recently read an article linking (not shockingly) divorce rates with early marriage behaviors and habits. The article showed that couples who were attentive to each other’s needs (even small needs, like offering a glass of water) were still together years later, whereas the couples who did not take the time to meet those small needs were divorced after just a few years. It stands to reason: If you cannot trust your spouse to meet your ordinary, everyday needs with compassion and attentiveness, why would you trust them with anything bigger or more important? Think about what your man would like to come home to, and then try to make your home a sanctuary for him, a safe place to rest and be restored.

A Fighter With Nothing To Fight

I am in a time of waiting, not a calm-before-the-storm waiting, but a used-to-living-under-stress-and-now-stress-is-gone waiting. It's a feeling of wondering why I can't think of anything to say when someone asks what is new with me. We aren't moving, my job isn't new anymore, and my kids are in their summer routine. My husband's job, the only soap opera I watch, is, for the moment, without drama. At least, nothing new. After surviving the last five or six years of trials, moving, new jobs, new babies, more possible job loss, more moving, health problems, financial struggles, making it by the skin of our teeth, I'm wondering, what is next? What new crisis will we overcome? Where will we have to go? From which direction will the next tidal wave of change come? And then, what if it doesn't? What will I do in case things stay normal, sane? What will we learn from sitting still here? How will I survive without crisis, a fighter with nothing to fight? In the middle of this feeling, I did my homework for our couple's Bible study on the book of Daniel. The memory verse for the week was Daniel 2:21- "He [God] changes times and seasons; he sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning." I feel like the seasons of my life have been defined by crisis, by cycles of being attacked and overcoming; I spend my periods of calm preparing my armor for the next battle. I know this is not the kind of rest God intends for me. Even if I am choosing restlessness, He has peace waiting for me. Daniel was faced with a king who wanted to literally cut him into pieces for someone else's mistake; he was able to look at what he knew of God, take a deep breath, and say that the times of his life were in God's hands. I am challenging myself to say that now. In my impatience, my restlessness, my cautious and battle-weary waiting, I am going to trust that whatever is next, crisis or even peace, my seasons and times are just what I need. When I have grown used to the struggle, God wants to teach me to really rest in the season he's giving me now, a season of restoration. I don't want to miss what is beautiful about my life right now because I'm still waiting for the next trial. "In repentance and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your strength." Isaiah 30:15

Finding Time to Exercise

I know you are wondering, “How can I tell my husband he can spend more time away from me and our family when he is gone so much as it is?” Allowing your husband the time and space to work out does take away from the precious little time you have with each other. But please think long-term on this one: someday the job will be done, retirement will arrive, and what kind of shape will he be in to enjoy it? And what about how he feels now? Even if you have to put the kids to bed by yourself while he goes for a run, even if he comes home later or leaves earlier for work so he can hit the gym, he will feel better about himself, and he will have more energy to spend on you when he is with you, instead of feeling overweight and cranky. So as far as you are able, encourage your husband to take time for himself in this, and do whatever you can to show him you support him while letting him know you love him just the way he is. If you don’t want him leaving you alone just to exercise, and if you don’t mind sweat droplets covering your TV screen and leaving spots on your carpet, you can work out together at home like my husband and I do. This way you can support his efforts at fitness, spend time with him, and be in better shape yourself. About six months ago, my husband ordered a DVD workout series that we do together in the living room. We planned a time, filled each other’s water bottles, moved the furniture back, and then exercised until we were dripping sweat and lying on the floor, gasping for breath like fish out of water. It was hard to stay motivated at first, and I know we would have quit if we had been trying to do it without each other, but through sickness, my broken toe, my husband’s trial, and other roadblocks, we stuck with it. Now, not only are we in better shape, but we look forward to the camaraderie of pushing though those workouts together. You don’t need to go this extreme; you can go for walks, ride bicycles, or go to the gym or the pool together. The camaraderie will develop if you are together, overcoming obstacles and working toward a common goal of being healthy for your life together.

Butterflies and fairy houses

Today I let go. I had plans to make a corn and black bean salad for tomorrow so it could marinate overnight in the fridge. I had plans to wash my sheets, that job being highly overdue. I had plans to take bags of stuff to Goodwill from my summer closet clean out. I definitely had plans to take my kids to see the July 3rd fireworks in our town. But it was so sunny when we woke up today, an I-can't-tell-you-how-rare occurrence this year in the Pacific Northwest, that the girls and I decided to go out in the yard in our pajamas and rain boots and do a little morning exploring. Under some dead leaves I decided to clean up we found a spotted grey slug and two tiny garter snakes (my insides still recoil at the thought). We filled seven mason jars of various sizes with flowers of all colors. We picked only red, white, and blue flowers and floated them in a great glass bowl for our table. We followed a monarch butterfly around the yard and gave up hope on taking her picture until I decided to cut some more hydrangeas for a jar and there she was, tiger striped with flecks of iridescent blue on her wings, right next to me on a vibrant blue blossom. We used some dead chestnut tree branches to make a fairy house like I used to do on the Oregon beach when I was little, except instead of shells we used leaves for rugs, and flower petals scattered for a roof and carpet, and a tiny stone-lined path, with a final giant stone upon which came to be written in Sharpie marker in six-year-old handwriting, "Welcome fairies." Then it began to pour on us, so we came in and had baths, put on fake tattoos from a birthday party favor bag, and I painted their nails however they wanted. This meant that Charlie had red and blue fingernails with silver glitter and red glitter toenails, but Abby, the four year old, had purple and pink fingernails with gold glitter, one foot of pink toenails, and one foot of purple toenails, each with gold glitter. At some point their sheets were washed, but not mine. Their dinner was made, but not my salad. We didn't make it to the fireworks, because our nails were drying and it was cold and wet outside. But they giggled about the fairy house all afternoon, and they oohed and aahed over each other's nails, and at some point each little daughter wrapped her not-so-small-anymore arms around my neck and kissed me, and told me she loved me. Wow. I am no supermom. I often can be heard saying, "not right now," "just a minute," and "I'll get that for you after I finish this." But today I was just there, in the moment and accommodating, giving out a cheerful "Sure" to their requests, and I will never forget it. And now one last to-do for today: I still have some glitter that has to appear inside that fairy house before morning, and I can't wait to see their faces when they see it.

In honor of Father's Day, a must-read article about parenting by Chief Joel F. Schults, Ed.D. Taken from policeone.com

Passion for the Job with Chief Joel F. Shults, Ed.D. Tips for dads: 10 lies about raising kids in an LE family Cops get to be inside more homes than the pizza delivery guy, so we see a lot of messed up families. Even though we know that good parents can have bad kids and bad parents can have good kids, we know that most of the screw-ups we send to prison have no dad in their life. The nightmare is when we imagine how messed up our own kids could be without us. I want to acknowledge that children with organic brain disorders, developmental disorders, and mental illness require lots of special care and expert help. But for most of us in a pop-psychology Oprah-driven world, how does a dad know what is best for his kids? We can start by refusing to believe some popular but bad advice. Here’s my Top 10. 1) Kids need quality time, not quantity — Your son or daughter doesn’t crave high-impact moments filled with wow. They need you. A lot. They need raw, non-Disneyland time. You don’t have to always be entertaining them or learning something or asking about their day or helping them with their homework. But quit your second job if you have to. Get your face out of Facebook. Be there. 2) Kids are resilient — Sure they are. They’ll survive the divorce while you go “find yourself.” But they’ll survive the fight for your family and marriage a lot more. I’m not judging here. If things are that messed up then do what you have to do — I haven’t lived 32 years of marriage without the “d” word cropping up — but don’t fake yourself out thinking the kids won’t be hurt. Reach out, get help, make it work if you can. 3) Be a pal — Kids have friends. They need a Dad. Dads are smarter, stronger, wiser, more disciplined, and will care about them longer than any friend. And Dads can be always become good friends later. That’s what making them good adults is for. 4) Kids need to be kids — Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely want kids to be kids, I just don’t want them to lose out on becoming healthy grownups. There are some tough lessons to learn about delayed gratification, putting others first, and dealing with disappointment. Don’t deny them life skills by protecting them too much. 5) Teenagers are crazy — American extended adolescence is anthropological fictional that has been way oversold. Don’t fall for it. Stop calling them teens and start calling them young adults, then treat them that way. Keep your expectations high. This is the prime time to determine how you will relate to your offspring for the rest of your life. They actually like you more than you think. 6) Kids need their privacy — Of course they need to be their own person. But I’ve had parents who think the Fourth Amendment applies to them. It’s OK for your kids to know that it’s your house with your rules. If they constantly cocoon in their rooms they can forget that they are a building block in the family. Let them feel needed and connected, and accountable, not like they have a free apartment. 7) Kids need to be involved — Extracurricular are great until it’s the family that becomes what they do in their spare time. Life lessons are poorly learned in the minivan between activities. Frazzled kids and tired parents cry out for balance. Just say no every once in a while. 8) Don’t force religion on a kid — I’m not selling any particular brand of faith here. Research shows that active involvement in a faith community is associated with lower delinquency and later onset of sexual activity. It seems if we make kids eat right for their body and do their schoolwork for their mind, that some strong direction for their heart and soul is a good thing. 9) Kids first — Studies show that today’s young people have lower levels of empathy than in previous generations. Whether child-centered parenting is creating these narcissists, or it is the result of loss of human contact because of our digital society, children need to learn that they aren’t the center of the world — even yours. Here’s another hint: put their mother first and them second! 10) Kids have it worse than ever — Whether it’s advertisers, psychologists, Hollywood, or even our benevolent government... everybody wants a piece of our kids’ minds and dollars. But this is America and growing up in the 21st century is awesome! Our opportunity to win our kids back and keep them is still in our control. Step up, Dad, you can do it! About the author Joel Shults currently serves as Chief of Police for Adams State College in Alamosa, Co. Over his 30 year career in uniformed law enforcement and in criminal justice education Joel has served in a variety of roles: academy instructor, police chaplain, deputy coroner, investigator, community relations officer, college professor, and police chief, among others. Shults earned his doctorate in Educational Leadership and Policy Analysis from the University of Missouri, with a graduate degree in Public Services Administration and bachelors in Criminal Justice Administration from the University of Central Missouri. In addition to service with the US Army military police and CID, Shults has done observational studies with over fifty police agencies across the country. He currently serves on a number of advisory and advocacy boards including the Colorado POST curriculum committee as a subject matter expert.

Ants on the Peonies

I was in my garden about a month and a half ago when I noticed that the peony buds were completely covered in some very industrious-looking ants. They seemed bent on destruction, and I do love peonies when they finally bloom- what an incredible flower! So much potential for beauty packed so tightly into an unassuming little bud. So I called up a green-thumbed friend and asked her what I should spray on the buds to get rid of the ants. "Oh, you don't want to do that," she replied. "If you get rid of the ants, your flowers will never bloom. They need the ants to help them open." An internet gardening site confirmed that the ants don't harm the buds, and actually eat the sticky, sugary syrup that the buds produce, which somehow helps produce large, healthy flowers. It struck me that this is not unlike our life right now. In the midst of a lawsuit against my husband, where lies have been spread about him in the paper and in the courtroom, when everyone in our community has an opinion, and when it often feels like we are being eaten alive emotionally, we are growing stronger. We have grown closer in our marriage, we spend more time together, he is more attentive to our children, our extended family is more tightly knit, and our true friends have rallied around us repeatedly to show their love and support. It is possible that we feel more loved now than we ever have before. It may look on the outside like we are being attacked and devoured; people often ask us, "Are you doing okay?" We are better than okay. The ants are doing their work; the superfluous is being eaten away, leaving only what is necessary and true. L.B. Cowman, in her timeless book Streams In The Desert, said, "You can see the rain, but can you also see the flowers? You are suffering through these tests, but know that God sees sweet flowers of faith springing up in your life beneath these very trials. You try to escape the pain, yet God sees tender compassion for other sufferers finding birth in your soul. Your heart winces at the pain of heavy grief, but God sees the sorrow deepening and enriching your life." Two years after the lawsuit began, after a three week trial and three days of jury deliberations, finally, the jury's decision came: my husband had done nothing wrong. He was fully exonerated, his name restored. I cheered with him on the phone, and when I hung up, I walked outside into the garden to take a deep breath. What I am about to tell you still makes tears come to my eyes: the peonies were all in bloom.

Andrew Peterson - Dancing in the Minefields (Official Video)

Chapter 3: Building Him Up- an exerpt from my book in progress

“The Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.’” Genesis 2:18 “An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up.” Proverbs 12:25 When I began to realize that I was falling in love with the teenage boy who would one day become my husband, I asked my mother, “How do you know if you really love someone?” I was sixteen and, of course, fully convinced that I knew what love was, but I recognized her wisdom even then, and have never forgotten her words. They have shaped my decision-making, my behavior, and my life ever since. She told me, “If something happened to him and he was stuck in a wheelchair, or never able to hold you or tell you he loved you, or able to do anything for you ever again, would you want to stay with him? If you had to do everything for him, and could never expect anything in return, would you still spend your life taking care of him? That is love.” Not only was my mother’s answer very telling of the generosity with which she has always loved others, but isn’t that just how God loves us? Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” While we were unable to do anything for God, handicapped by our sin and mute to express our gratitude, God sent his precious Son to die for us in the unrelenting hope that we will one day love him back. This seems like an impossible ideal of love for us to aim for in our marriages, but what would it look like if we tried? Either you have been through a situation like the one I am about to describe, or you will go through it at some point in your marriage to a law enforcement officer, but it is inevitable. You will come to a point in your marriage where you will realize that you are giving and giving and giving love to your spouse, but for any number of reasons-- depression, physical exhaustion, emotional distress, a difficult work schedule--your spouse seems unwilling or unable to reciprocate. Now what? How can you go on encouraging, helping, building your husband up day after day out of your own dwindling resources of strength? And what about your needs? First, go to the source of strength yourself. Like putting the oxygen mask on yourself first in the event of an airplane emergency, you must pull your strength from God before you try to minister to your husband. Allow your Heavenly Father to fill you out of His Word, and out of that deep well you can now draw everything you need to help sustain your husband and your family. “My soul finds rest in God alone, my salvation comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken,” Psalm 62:1-2. If you look to God for that strength that you need, instead of calling your friends or your mom, or putting more fun things on the credit card, you will find rest for your soul, and the unshakeable peace and strength you need to get through even the worst of times. Spend time each day reading your Bible, memorizing passages that encourage you and speak of God’s strength and faithfulness. You cannot expect to pour out what you have not first been filled with. Secondly, do your best, with much prayer, to understand where your husband is coming from and ask God to show you how to encourage him. God sustained my marriage through a very painful time when my husband was relieved from duty, forced to wait six months without pay for a trial in which he was wrongfully accused, after which he resigned from his job. He was sent home from work the day before Thanksgiving, our first holiday season with our firstborn daughter, who was nine months old at the time. Not only could my husband no longer financially provide for his family, but he had been entirely stripped of his confidence, his dignity, and his identity. I saw that a man who cannot provide for his family does not feel like much of a man at all; in fact, he even encouraged me to leave him. Intense feelings of hopelessness and worthlessness became a daily occurrence. My husband had absolutely nothing to give me during that time. And trust me, yelling, “Babe, if you would just read your Bible, you wouldn’t feel so terrible!” would never be received in the kind and helpful way I meant it. So what can you do when your husband is worn down by work, by situations outside of his control, or just by life in general? 1) Tell him you love him each day, as often as you can, in as many ways as you can. 2) Tell him you appreciate him, and don’t make it about what he contributes, but about who he is. 3) Pick up the slack with a smile on your face. If Jesus could choose to die for me while I was still covered in the mess of my sin, I can care for the needs of my household with a cheerful heart. Even if that means taking out the trash myself again. 4) Memorize Scripture passages and pray them over him. For example, as I write this, my husband is being sued in federal court for reasons I will explain later. I am memorizing Psalm 62, and so each day I pray, “God, today let Jeff find rest for his soul in You alone. Let him see that You are his Rock, his salvation, his fortress. Let him never be shaken because he trusts in you.” My four-year-old prayed that with me, and it was so precious to hear her say, “God, you are Daddy’s Rock and his fortress. Daddy will not be shaken.” I could just see God smiling as he honored that request so confidently asked. 5) Choose verses that you believe will bring encouragement to your husband, and put them where he will see them. Some of my favorite places are the bathroom mirror (by the time his trial is over we’ll barely be able to see ourselves), on the nightstand, or under his keys on the kitchen counter. Every once in a while, include a risqué one from Song of Songs. You may even get him to smile again!

A working girl once again...

After making the call to keep our two little girls in the private school we love, my husband and I took a good look at our budget and the medical history of my spine and decided that I probably should begin looking for a job that did not involve scrubbing other people's floors and bathrooms. Right about that same time, my sister-in-law called and told me to contact her chiropractor, since he was in need of a part-time receptionist. What could be more perfect, I wondered? I hang up my mop and bucket, go to work for a chiropractor and get free treatments, and make money to keep my kids in school. But then, after I interviewed for ten minutes, was offered the job, accepted the job, and was driving home looking at sheep grazing in a field did I remember, wait a minute! I have not ever held a full-day job with two children at home! I have childcare arranged, but who will make me dinner? So here is what I have learned since last week, in case any of you are thinking about going back to work:

1) My husband can put food in the oven. I never gave him a chance to take care of me in this way before.
2) I have an awesome support structure of family and friends who will wake up early to watch my girls since my husband works nights and sleeps days. You need this!
3) In regards to #1, I am learning about foods that can be made way ahead of time and then frozen. Someone should write a cookbook with lots of recipes like this in it...oh wait, that idea seems to be taken. And, also, is now overwhelming to research due to the high volume of material available. How about spaghetti instead?
4) Painting 40 tiny nails and pretending to eat plastic food--oh, excuse me, crab truffle souffle salad--is much more fun and exciting when I haven't seen my children in ten hours. They, in turn, seem to enjoy my enthusiasm, and reward me with extra kisses. Today, they even read me three stories at bedtime.
5) My husband seems to know much more about what our kids are doing, since he is their go-to parent for several hours of the day. They are learning that Daddy can tie ballet shoes, dress Bride Barbie, and eat crab truffle souffle salad too, and it's been good for everyone.
6)I get lovely cards and artwork when I get home. I also get squeals of delight, and people cheering my name. This is all usually reserved for Daddy! It's like I'm famous, only without all the money, material possessions, and destructive patterns of behavior.
7)I feel more cheerful about dishes, laundry, and other menial household tasks. I don't know why.
8) I feel more like being productive on the other days of the week, so that the house will be cleaned, dishes done, and laundry washed and put away when I go back to work.
9) I started working out again with the energy I save by sitting in a desk chair twenty hours a week.
10) I am even more appreciative of my sweet and wonderful husband, who is taking on more work at home so I can work outside of it. He is giving up time with me so I can help our family, and he cares about my needs and my feelings. What more could a working girl ask for? Maybe a nutrition bar that doesn't taste like it was made with sand...

A Gift

Because he works nights, my husband does not get many waking daylight hours with his children. We have had three bright, gorgeous sunny days here in a row, and he has missed most of them by needing to sleep, which has been heartbreaking for all of us, since we have not seen the sun since, oh, September or so. But Saturday we were given the beautiful gift of both a sunny day and Daddy awake at the same time, and we celebrated by going outside and spending time in our much-neglected backyard. I cleaned up dead leaves, trimmed branches, and planted flower seeds while the girls took turns hitting a plastic softball off of a purple plastic tee with a pink bat. Jeff sat on the deck, trying to wake up by slowly blinking his nocturnal eyes, which were understandably unaccustomed to such brilliance. But then came the words that roused him from his comatose state and drew him into the game: "Daddy, pitch to me!" Our six year old, squealing those words in delight, nearly broke her Daddy's heart with joy. He loves baseball, and I think he had pretty much given up the dream of having an athlete after seeing her do "ballet" in the living room, which is usually a combination of Elaine Bennis's dancing from Seinfeld and kung fu. But she has grown more coordinated as of late, and they seized that afternoon in the sunshine to play baseball together. He pitched, she swung, and that plastic ball made contact, sailing through the clear, bright air over and over. Once it even cleared the neighbor's fence, and we met our neighbors for the first time as I asked to get it back. It was a gorgeous day, a beautiful time, and a memory that my husband will treasure in his storehouse of precious things that keep him going through the rough times, which are many and often these days. What a gift, to pitch plastic baseballs to his little girl at her request; what an unforgettable gift.

Back On Schedule

I have taken to falling asleep in the big comfortable chair in the living room while the girls are taking their rest time. It has happened almost every day for the last week, and now I'm afraid I won't be able to stop. Caffeine doesn't help. Neither does trying to avoid it by cleaning or doing laundry or other household tasks. 2pm rolls around and I have an irresistible urge to curl up in the chair, flip the switch that starts the gas fireplace, and let my eyelids give up the fight. Maybe it's because I have been forgetting to take my vitamins. Possibly because it's in the 30's outside, and possibly I am part cat inside, needing a warm spot in which to curl up, and possibly because everyone else in the house is sleeping, so why shouldn't I? More likely, though, it is because my husband has not worked his regular schedule in about three weeks, and keeping up with him is exhausting. He prefers the night shift, and loves to stay up all night even if he is not working the next day. I try to stay up with him to spend time with him, but I'm still learning, after six years of being a parent, that it doesn't pay to stay up past one in the morning watching movies and On Demand episodes of 30 Rock and Chopped, and then expect to wake up at 7:30 to get kids up for school. Also, I don't think they give out trophies in kindergarten for the most tardies, although I could have my daughter memorize the Travis Birkenstock speech from "Clueless" for the occasion. So what to do? Well, my loving man left for work a couple of hours ago, the kids are bathed, brushed, and in bed, and I am now going there myself. After I call my mom to set up childcare for tomorrow, of course. Oh, and I also should throw in some laundry. So midnight it is?

Reasons to be a Cop's Wife

Apparently my husband has been reading my posts, and he informed me today that if I don't post something funny and witty soon, I will need to change the name of my blog. So Baby, this one's for you. And all you police wives out there, make your own list and leave it where your man can see it!

Why I love being a cop's wife:
1. The uniform. Obviously. He looks so hot in it. Especially the BDU's with the tactical vest that says POLICE on the back, like he's about to go break down a door. Am I alone in this? I don't think so...
2. He can carry a gun just about anywhere. Again, hot.
3. When we walk down a dark street at night, shady-looking people get out of his way just because of the way he carries himself.
4. His dark sense of humor. The man can find a way to joke about anything, and I know it is a defense mechanism, but it does make everything better!
5. He has a job I can be proud of, a job that means something and betters society. It has eternal significance.
6. He is a man's man. Testosterone-laden, for better or for worse, but I'll never catch him getting his nails done or his hair highlighted. No way.
7. He has an intense sense of justice. He knows right from wrong, good from evil. He has integrity, and can look himself in the mirror each day with no regrets.
8. Because of department policy, he cannot grow any nasty, scraggly beard or girlish Justin Bieber hairstyle. He has to be clean-cut and clean-shaven, just the way I like him.
9. He is always thinking about my safety, and the safety of our children.
10. He is a modern day knight. He puts on his armor and fights for justice. And he chooses to do it, day after day, because it is what is in his heart to do.
11. The uniform. It is worth mentioning twice. So hot!

Any other things I have missed? It's your turn to comment...

When nothing else will do...

Very early this morning, a state trooper was gunned down on the highway during a traffic stop just thirty minutes from where I live. The killer left him dying there in the road and fled the scene, later turning his gun on himself and taking his own life as SWAT approached the house in which he was hiding. That makes three shootings in just three days in this little place we once jokingly referred to as Mayberry. I feel sick. Trying in the only certain way I know to replace my worry with peace, I turned to my favorite standby, Psalm 23, the poetic description of the Shepherd-King. Nothing else will do on a day like today. I read the words over and over, and let the truth pour over me, washing away the anxiety and the fear.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

What to say?

Three shootings in our small town area in the last week, the most recent by an 8 year-old who packed a gun to school in his backpack, leave me wondering about a lot of things. But the one that is most pressing is what to say to my children. I have a six year-old and a three-year-old, and I may not need to say anything about the guy who walked into a tire store and began shooting, but when a child only two years older than my own is carrying a gun to school, I feel the need for some dialogue. "Sweetheart, do you ever touch Daddy's (or any) guns?" "No, Mama." "What do you do if you see one not locked up?" "I don't touch it and I come and tell you." Now for the big one. "What do you do if you see someone at school with a gun?" "I tell them that they can't have it there, and I go tell a grownup." Wrong, my love. You run as fast as your precious legs can carry you, as far as you can, and you hide. But that isn't school policy. I have been a teacher, and I know the standard operating procedure. You are to wait inside your classroom with the rest of your class, like sitting ducks, or fish in a barrel. It gives your school the illusion of control, and everyone knows where you are (or should be). So what do I tell her? Daddy was home, and he told her to run to the office and get help. Lots of adults and lots of telephones in the office, he told her. And then bedtime came, and she asked me about the little girl who got shot at school today, whether she was going to be okay. I told her we would pray for her and ask God to protect her and comfort her. I want to protect my daughters, but I can't. That is an illusion, just like thinking that locking children in a classroom and closing the curtains will keep them safe. I am wondering how I can raise my girls without fear in a world where violence is seemingly more frequent, constantly closer to home, and perpetrated by younger and younger children. I want to raise brave girls who have enough common sense to keep out of bad situations, but who have enough courage to live full lives in the places to which they may be called. We are not called to be timid. One of my favorite quotes is "A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships were made for." I can't keep my daughters safe. Neither can Daddy, who is next to God in size and ability in their eyes. But I can teach them that wherever they go with God, they are safe, and wherever they go without Him, they are not, like my mother taught me. I can teach them that God's idea of safe is not the same as mine, but His is what matters. And I can let go of what I cannot control, knowing that He is always good, and what He allows into my life will also be made into good, even the unthinkable.

Other Interests

I have found, and I'm sure you have too, or soon will, that it is crucial to the health of your marriage to have other interests. Hobbies, activities, friends (same sex, please, for your jealous spouse's sake), things you do that can exist in your life apart from your beloved. When I was a newlywed, although we had dated for seven years before we got married (we began dating at 15), I still cherished the assumption that married life would be mostly about spending time together. We would sit on the couch and watch movies together, eat romantic dinners by candlelight, walk hand in hand on the beach as the sun set... you get the picture. Even people with nine-to-five jobs don't really live that way, but you see, I married a cop. I had to get used to not seeing him except in passing for days at a time as our work shifts orbited each other, never to touch. I had to make dinner for two, but eat alone, saving his portion in Pyrex for later. And so the other interests developed, really out of desperation. Scrapbooking came first, but it exhausts me now to even think about how far behind I am. Next came quilting, because I had babies, and they needed blankets. That one stuck, since it was so useful. I also love to read, and that will stay with me forever! Being a kindergarten room volunteer and involved in our church have helped me use my time to help others, and not just entertain myself. But cataloging my life aside, what I want to say is that I could not expect my husband, who works twelve hours a day, to be my everything. It was too much pressure. I honor him as my husband, yes, but then I need to release him from the responsibility of having to make all my decisions, entertain me, and listen to my every thought. I needed to develop other interests to create healthy space in my marriage. But then I drop everything and hurry home, because it is 3pm and that's when he wakes up, and I don't want to miss that.

Freedom of the Press, or Libel?

Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. I don't believe reporters actually understand the difference between the two, unless the tables were turned and someone began slandering their names. When your loved one's name shows up in the local paper and he is vilified for doing his job, how do you respond? What is your gut response, or the response you give to friends, or the response you give to the ignorant busybody in the grocery store line who engages you in conversation about the critical incident your beloved was involved in, and they don't know who you are? Do you get angry? Do you remain calm and act like you don't know anything? Do you have a smart comment ready, or do you just nod and say, "That's so sad"? I have a physical reaction of nausea and disgust whenever I see or hear a particular newspaper name because of the callous, one-sided, and malicious way they have gone after my husband. I feel the need to simultaneously scream and vomit whenever I see someone selling subscriptions for this paper outside of my grocery store. I am a sane person, and I do have some self-control left, so I keep a grip on my emotions and keep on walking, pretending I am not bothered. But then I think about it for a long time afterwards, planning what I would say to the reporter who has this horrible undercurrent of hatred for law enforcement. I would say, "Why do you hate this group of people whose calling is to protect you? Why do you dislike people who kiss their wives and children and walk out the door to defend rules and maintain order? Do you have a disdain for the law, because you don't seem to want it enforced? Do you hate justice? Do you look at cops and only see the high school jocks and bullies who pushed you around? These are not those men. These men have honor. They are men of the old code. They are part of a brotherhood, bound together by a need to see the right thing done. They are people with a strong sense of respect, duty, and commitment. And despite the garbage you write, they would still show up to your call and protect you, if only to prove you wrong. Yes, there are the bad apples, who somehow manage to get into law enforcement careers and then abuse their power. But guess what? Other cops don't even like those guys. And you cannot vilify all police officers based on the actions of the few rotten ones, just like I can't despise all reporters based on your actions alone." Then I have thoughts of inviting them over for dinner so they can see that we are real people, that my husband is an amazing father, a kind and wonderful husband, a loyal friend. But the truth is, that would only sway a logical and thoughtful person. Angry newspaper reporters who write malicious trash about good police officers are hatemongers; they are irrational, thoughtless beasts, and giving them any truth would be casting pearls before swine. So I take a deep breath. I quote Notting Hill, when Hugh Grant tells Julia Roberts "Today's newspapers will be lining tomorrow's waste-paper bins." And I thoroughly admire my husband, who can read what has been written, set it aside, and go on with his day as if nothing has happened. I know it must hurt him, because he has a heart, and feelings, but he doesn't let that hurt stop him from being a good cop. He will respond to the next call, and the next, and the next with the same level of professionalism and compassion that has carried him this far. He will treat people with far more respect than they treat him. He will continue.

The Long Defeat

The Long Defeat
By Sara Groves


I have joined the long defeat
that falling set in motion
and all my strength and energy
are raindrops in the ocean

so conditioned for the win
to share in victor's stories
but in the place of ambition's din
I have heard of other glories

and I pray for an idea
and a way i cannot see
it's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

I can't just fight when I think I'll win
that's the end of all belief
and nothing has provoked it more
than a possible defeat

chorus

we walk a while we sit and rest
we lay it on the altar
I won't pretend to know what's next
but what I have I've offered

and I pray for a vision
and a way I cannot see
it's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave

and I pray for inspiration
and a way I cannot see
it's too heavy to carry
and impossible to leave
it's too heavy to carry
and I will never leave


Such a beautiful song; I listen to it in tears in the car and while I do dishes at home. I sing along, and sometimes say it like a prayer, since it seems like the struggle my husband faces daily on the job. Police officers occasionally arrest the same person twice in a twelve-hour period; what could be more discouraging than that? But their passion for justice is a weight they carry, and they cannot lay it down. If they could, I'm sure they would do something with a bigger paycheck and more positive feedback. But they cannot leave it; they offer all, day after day. I would just like to offer my gratitude and my support as a wife of one of these amazing men.

A little inspiration...

I have loved this poem for about a decade now, and in every stage of my life so far I have found it to be relevant and inspirational. Today it speaks to me about the daily struggle for a good attitude and perseverance in marriage, motherhood, and friendships. I hope you love it, too!


Breathless Tales

I would rather
clutch my invitation
and wait my turn
in party clothes
prim, proper
safe and clean
But a pulsing hand
keeps driving me
over peaks
ravines
and spidered brambles
So I'll pant
up to the pearled knocker
tattered
breathless
and full of tales.

Janet Chester Bly

from Managing Your Restless Search, copyright@1981,1992

The Man Cave

It's not what you think. The man cave I refer to is what your graveyard-working husband will make out of your bedroom. Dank, dark, and absolutely silent is what your now-nocturnal mate will need to be able to find rest in the daylight hours. If you don't want him to staple sleeping bags over the windows, shop for some blackout curtains that coordinate with your bedroom decor. Sleeping-bag plaid was not appealing to me, so I found some navy blue thermal/blackout-lined curtain panels at Target. Also, your man is going to need some background noise if you don't want him complaining about each footstep that occurs while he's sleeping, so that same fan that helps you sleep while he's working should be employed for his use as well. Now, this room that has no light and no air from the rest of the house circulating though it is going to take on a peculiar odor. Be sure to vacuum, dust, and wash sheets frequently. This is only possible if you do these tasks while you ought to be sleeping, since you can't do them while he's sleeping or when he's awake and home, wanting to spend time with you. Instead of going to bed at a reasonable time, clean your bedroom until it is spotless and you are too exhausted to think about anything but going to sleep. Then put your sheets in the dryer, and nod off on the couch for a bit until you can finally make your bed and go to sleep. Your husband will be home in a few minutes, and the sun is about to come up, but at least your room doesn't smell like the gorilla habitat at the zoo.

10 Practical Tools for Night Shift Wives

1. A body pillow. My husband calls it his replacement. I tell him sometimes I prefer it because it never rolls over and smacks me and it never smells. However, it doesn't snuggle, and provides no extra warmth, but it is nice to feel something at my back while I am getting ready to fall asleep.
2. Background noise. I live in a very rainy climate, and the sound of rain drumming on the roof sends me straight to sleep. In the warmer months a fan works just as well. I don't like to leave the TV on ever since I read Farenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, but I know other police wives who like to do that.
3. No scary shows before bed. Seriously. And don't watch the news, either. If your cop is stuck in a newsworthy mess, he will call as soon as he can. Don't give yourself an unnecessary anxiety attack just because you thought you'd check the weather and happened to see that there was a high speed chase, bank robbery, or barricaded suspect in his division.
4. Create rituals. I like to make a cup of tea or some popcorn, read for a little while, and then get straight to bed. Whatever did not get finished before that cup of tea can wait until tomorrow.
5. Do something to show your man that you were thinking of him before you went to sleep. I leave a light on downstairs so he can come in the front door without falling down and waking us all up, and I like to set out some pajamas for him so he doesn't have to look for them in the dark.
6. When he comes home in those painfully early morning hours, do your best to wake up a little and listen to him talk about his night. I like to sleepily mumble, "How did it go?" and let him talk while he gets ready for bed. It helps him decompress, I get to hear stories he won't remember to tell me later in the day, and sometimes it wakes me up enough that when he comes to bed we don't go right back to sleep! Which just means I will fall asleep in a chair later that day, and my daughters will use paintbrushes on my face, but it could be worse, I suppose.
7. Light dinners. How would you like it if you woke up in the morning and someone offered you a nice pot roast and potatoes? When my husband wakes up at 3pm, by 6pm he's lucky if he can stomach a grilled cheese or a turkey sandwich. So save those delicious meals for another schedule, or make them anyway but pack his portion for taking to work and eating at 1am when he's actually hungry for that sort of thing.
8. Train children in consideration for others. This is never a bad thing, and does not suppress their needs in any way. In our home, we are calm and use inside voices while Daddy is sleeping. We don't wear plastic princess shoes on the hardwood, we don't have jumping contests from the stairs, and we don't play tag. Then at 3pm, I say, "Yeah, Daddy's awake! Now you can do whatever that loud thing was that you asked about earlier. Go for it!" And my kids have learned to set aside their own desires to take care of another person's needs. Also, I have girls. This quiet and no jumping business will be much more difficult for those testosterone-laden households, but it can't hurt to try, right?
9. Make friends with other wives whose husbands have similar schedules. I have a friend whose husband is in the Navy, and when he has duty, she brings her daughter over and we have a Girls Only Movie Night. We paint nails, we play games, we put on two movies (Barbie Rapunzel for them and Pride and Prejudice for us), and we talk until our yawning prevents us from talking anymore.
10. Remember that this is only for a season. Relish the time that is all yours, and be productive with it. Take up a new hobby, paint some of your furniture, hang pictures on the walls, go through your clothes (not his!) for Goodwill, organize your pantry, make a scrapbook; the options are endless. I like to make a list of all the things I would like to accomplish during the next few months of my husband's night shift. Then, when I am feeling restless or lonely, I do one of them. Finally, treat the time you do have together as precious. Don't nag, or complain, but encourage him, and offer to help him in any way you can. Don't leave room for any regret when he walks out the door for another night of being who he's been called to be.

Awesome article by a kindred spirit!

This woman not only gets it, but shares about her life in such a thoughtful, funny, and heartfelt way that I (and several friends) were laughing, crying, and nodding in agreement at every line. Thank you, Melissa Littles, for so eloquently capturing our lives in your amazing article. I wish you lived nearby- I'd want to be your friend and talk with you over coffee!

http://blissinprogress.hubpages.com/hub/Police-Wife-Life-The-Joys-and-Jitters-of-a-LEO-Wife-by-Melissa-Littles

Happy Police Wife, in service.

A few hours ago my husband began his watch for the night shift and I finally have time to write. Daughters are in bed, dishes are done, toys picked up, and the great debate begins: what do I now do with this time that is completely my own? I could be really productive, and mop the kitchen and bathroom floors, which no one will walk on for at least seven hours. I could indulge in some nighttime tv watching, when I don't have to choose between the Disney Channel or Sports Center. I could watch several hours of people tearing apart and redecorating houses that were nicer than mine to begin with, but that just breeds discontent, sadly. I will probably, because it has become habit in the last few days, make a hot cup of chai spice tea with a little milk and a lot of sugar, grab a blanket and my mom's old copy of Little Women, and curl up in my chair by the fireplace. Graveyard shifter's wives will understand this feeling of complete freedom, a feeling that is so rare for most other wives and mothers, my dear military families excepted. It is the feeling that I have done all I can do for today, there are no more unmet needs until tomorrow, and I am not a worrier (because I don't watch the news), and I can do something to refresh my spirit and prepare to meet all of those needs that will arise tomorrow. Little Women, here I come. Baby, be safe at work, be encouraged, and I will see you in the morning. Kiss me when you get home.