Putting It On

The alarm goes off early, while the world is still dark and sleepy. You fight off the sleep-warm blankets that want to draw you back in to their safety and comfort, and you sit up straight on the edge of the bed and stretch. You stand up, purpose already in your movements, and you begin to put on duty and honor while everyone else sleeps. You go about dressing mostly from memory; same arms into sleeves in the same order as every work day for the last eleven years. The vest is always first, though, and you strap the Velcro pieces into place in the same order as well. Duty is even spelled out in the tools you wear: duty belt, duty weapon. Your hands make miniscule adjustments to your belt, moving gear into place without needing your eyes to tell them where to go. Things need to be where you expect them to be if the unexpected happens; but judging by the way you prepare for your day, it would not be unexpected to you. Today you have the same cough and sore throat that have caused so many others to call in sick for the day, but you did not do that. You knew that would leave your crew short-handed, and so there you are, clearing your throat and stuffing a handful of cough drops into one of your many pockets, duty even in what you don’t do as much as in what you do. There is great faithfulness in how you begin each day, and it speaks to who you are off-duty as well as on. You wear invisible armor as well, which allows words from the ignorant and the cowards to sear, but not wound deeply, because you would fight for them, too, if they called you. They don’t understand this, but you do. It is called duty. And every day, you put it on. Today I was awake early enough to see it.

Dealing With Disappointment

I was in the grocery store with my children last week, browsing the colorful fall produce and figuring out which kind of apples to buy, feeling sort of bewildered by all the different kinds and wondering if the taste was really all that different. I settled on Sweeties, mainly because they looked like Galas, which I usually buy, but cost the same as plain old Red Delicious, which we recently decided have the worst tasting peel of all apples. Yes I know, we are spoiled Americans, and we also live in Washington State, so we are also apparently apple snobs. After I finished bagging our carefully chosen fruit, my older daughter asked, "So, what kind did we get?" I told her we got the Sweeties, thinking the cute name would definitely appeal to a seven-year-old girl. She wanted different apples and commenced with the mother of all whining fits right there in the middle of the produce section, embarrassing the heck out of me and leaving me wondering whose child this was in front of me who suddenly sounded more like Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory than the reasonable, cheerful, and usually even-tempered child I had in recent years come to expect. I quickly paid for our groceries and got out of Dodge, and when we got home some well-earned consequences were handed out, but I was left feeling incredibly frustrated at the fact that I was still fighting this same battle of responding to disappointment with my children. I thought we had crossed this bridge at four, and again at five, and again and again and again, and then it hit me that we never really get over feeling like shrieking when we perceive that something unfair is being done to us. When we are in preschool, someone takes our toy and won't give it back. When we are in grade school someone cheats at foursquare and beats us. In junior high, someone cheats off our test and gets a better grade then we do. In high school a friend ends up dating the boy we liked first. And then adulthood arrives, and all those problems disappear, because we are grownups now, and we surely don't have to deal with such childish behavior anymore, right? Wrong. Someone else gets the job you worked so hard to get, that you really thought you deserved. Or you are told that you are not right for a position that you know you would be great at! Or you try to have a baby for years while everyone else around you seems to have no trouble at all popping them out. Or you have to move away so that your husband can continue to have his dream job, but you have to leave yours behind. I didn't have to make any of these things up; this is my real life. And I'm sure you have a list of your own that looks pretty similar. What have you had to come to terms with in your life? What have you had nearly in your grasp, but it just seemed it wasn't meant to be? And for the clincher: have you yet said "Thank you!" for not getting what you wanted? If you can put some distance between yourself and your injustices, you might notice that because you didn't get what you wanted, something even greater happened instead, something you could not have imagined when you thought you knew what you wanted. Because I didn't get the boy I thought I wanted, I noticed another boy, one who I fell in love with at 15 years old and have now been married to for eleven years and together with for almost 20. We couldn't have a baby when we first got married, but eventually we had two little girls when the time was right. Our move opened up a new way of life for us, and strengthened our marriage and our faith. Life did not go the way we planned at any step of the way, but we learned (and are still learning) a priceless lesson. What we want, what we think we should have, might not be what we get. We might even have to watch, even smile and applaud, as others get what we think should have been ours. But it is okay, and we can let it go easier the older we get, as we have seen how to be thankful for what we didn't get, and how to wait for the better thing that always comes later. It can still hurt, but I don't have to stew in the hurt if I can remember to get up, brush off, and then expectantly look forward to what else will come along. I now have another job interview sometime in the next two weeks that I'm excited about. My husband is working on some new career goals after being told he can't proceed with something he's always wanted to do. And my daughter told me today that Sweeties are her new favorite apple, and she's sorry she said she didn't want them in the store. "I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Psalm 27:13-14

Gotta Get Away?

It is hard to do, especially with children, but you have to take time away with your hubby once in a while if you want to keep that flame alive, even in the healthiest of marriages. Prioritizing time with each other allows you to stay connected to the person to whom you committed your life. You must choose time with him over other people (sometimes even your kids), continually get to know him as you both grow and change, and then you will become again “in his eyes like one bringing contentment” (Song of Songs 8:10). Practical tips for taking time away with your spouse: 1) Choose a destination that you both can enjoy. I love to lay on the beach, but my husband hates it, so we go places that have both poolside lounging for me and shopping and other activities for him. Then we take turns doing things together that the other enjoys, hopefully with no complaining! 2) Make sure you are not too busy on your vacation to hold hands, which reminds him to “enjoy the wife of his youth.” 3) If you do go away with other couples, which can be really fun, be sure to set aside a meal or other time that is just for the two of you. Otherwise you may get home and realize that you had a great time but didn’t really talk to your spouse at all! 4) Go away together at least once a year, and not only on your anniversary, when the stakes are high for things to be perfect. Relax and enjoy each other! What my husband and I have loved most about all our getaways over the years have been the little things: singing along to the radio together in the car, holding hands as we walked around (hard to do at home with little ones in strollers), talking about our future together, and unknowingly creating memories that we still laugh about today, like my sweet husband getting to our honeymoon with only one shoe in his bag, the trip when a trainer let us touch, give commands to, and interact with the dolphins at Sea World because we were the only guests in the park on a rainy Thursday, or the Yosemite trip where I nearly flattened about twenty tourists because I didn’t think I could forget how to ride a bicycle, but was proved wrong. Because of our time spent together, my husband and I have a shared history that carries us through the day to day, that creates an understanding between us that we are on the same team, and that binds us together with affection and laughter on days when there would otherwise be a shortage.

How a grieving family put faith in action: A Legacy of Faith & Safety - Lifeline Training - LawOfficer.com

A Legacy of Faith & Safety - Lifeline Training - LawOfficer.com

The Green Crayon of Despair

It's exactly what it sounds like. I opened the door to the dryer, expecting clean, fluffy, dry clothes. Instead, I found despair. Okay, maybe despair is extreme; maybe it was frustration and anger followed by resignation, but it was bad. There, a silent harbinger of doom resting on top of the lint trap, was the hollow shell of a green crayon wrapper. I pulled out the lint trap and was met with the horror of green drips that cascaded down the screen and puddled at the bottom, already hardened and immovable. As I slowly pulled my children's clothes out of the dryer one piece at a time, the green, oily, waxy stains became larger and larger, streaming down jeans, mottling t-shirts, coating entire sleeves of sweatshirts. The crayon covered more area in its death than it ever could have in its life. The only piece of clothing that had survived the onslaught was an old, faded pair of jeans with a hole in the knee belonging to my seven-year-old, unfit for anything but playing in the back yard. The injustice of it slapped me in the face. I called my mother, but she had no magic solution for the mess. I turned to my old friend, Google. The cure involved a trip to the grocery store, but I came home armed and ready for battle. Two days and three washes later, all but one sweatshirt was saved. What did I learn? To really check all the pockets with a renewed passion before doing the laundry of a five and seven-year-old. And also, that life goes on. There is life after the green crayon of despair. I am living proof. And like the piles of filth I sweep up week after week from a seemingly clean kitchen floor, dirt and mess are evidence of life being lived to the fullest. No leaves are tracked in if kids aren't playing outside in the sunshine and learning to climb halfway up the chestnut tree. My mom related to me that before my grandpa passed away, when he was struggling with Parkinson's disease, my grandma realized how his quality of life had diminished by the stark fact that when she checked his pockets before the wash, they were empty. No loose change, no tractor bolts, no rolls of Lifesavers, no scraps of paper with phone numbers of friends and business contacts. Not a thing. I once washed my husband's pocket-sized notebook in which he would record details of his shift. It disintegrated into little bits. I have found change, a handcuff key, tubes of Chapstick. Signs of life. I have lived through the green crayon, and emerged with understanding and even thankfulness. God, thank you for life, even if I have to scrub it off with Oxyclean, Soft Scrub, and Shout. Help me to have a better attitude about the precious lives I clean up after. Amen. Instructions for cleaning crayon out of the dryer and the clothes: 1) Clean the lint trap screen with Soft Scrub on a damp paper towel. Rinse and let dry. Clean the rest of the lint trap with a toothpick, your fingernails, a butter knife, etc. 2) Clean the dryer drum with a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. 3) Pre-treat each clothing stain with Shout, the gel kind with the scrubby brush at the tip. Soak in the washer in hot water for one hour in Oxyclean and extra detergent. Wash as usual. Do this as many times as necessary until stains disappear.

How we have made it this far...

Eleven years of marriage. Eighteen years of being a couple, no breakups (but a few nasty fights into the wee hours of the morning because we refuse to sleep apart or go to bed angry). One beautiful, perfect wedding. Five homes in two different states. Two different police agencies. Six wretched months of unemployment. One giant, uprooting, painful move from which God is still working his astonishing, astounding, and profound good. A month and a half of living with our parents in between moves. Four years of college and four of graduate school, followed by eight different jobs for me. Two years of infertility. Two babies, beautiful girls that stole our hearts and take our breath away, with their beauty, their sweetness, and with how hard they make us laugh at ages five and seven. Two cats and two fish. One critical incident. Two trials. Two distinct moments where I held my breath on the phone as I waited for him to tell me the verdict. Once, my world crumbled. The second time, it stayed intact. Two tough years with too much silence and too much pain in the waiting, but not enough to throw in the towel, thank God. Eight years before in which to grow strong together, and one year since to see how much stronger and deeper we are, having weathered the storm. He is a part of me, and when part of you is hurting, you do not cut it off and throw it away. You take it to a good doctor, spending all you have if necessary to make it better. God is our Great Physician. Without Him at the center of our marriage we could not have made it. I feel such joy in our marriage, such security and contentment, and I know we both appreciate how hard we fought to get here; how much sweeter the victory is when we look at where we have been. God was carrying us in the difficult times, and he carries us now. "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:12-13

Do's and Don't's of Police Wife Friendships

Being a very outgoing person, I have had my share of great relationships and also some not-so-great relationships. Here are some guidelines based on what I have learned, to help you keep your relationships healthy and encouraging. I wish I could say I always stick to them, but these are best-case scenario. Do your best, and avoid the drama that negativity, gossip, and neglect of your marriage can cause! 1) Don't be a complainer, and don't entertain complainers. Complainers just want to whine and don't want to think about how to fix the problem. Vent for a minute and then look for solutions. Be a positive influence on each other! 2) Do discuss department problems to alert each other to possible danger or to understand what is happening to your husband at work, but don't be a gossip, spreading hearsay just for the sake of drama. 3) Don't husband-bash. Sharing a funny story or asking for advice, help, or prayer for a particular problem is one thing, but trashing your man to someone else (who is probably the wife of his friend) is not appropriate, and very dishonoring. 4) Do your best to be at home when your husband is home, and encourage your friends to do the same. Shifts come and go, and there will be time to spend with your friends that doesn't overlap into family time. Boys' Night Out and Girls' Night Out are the exceptions! 5) Do look for interests or hobbies that you can do together. My friend Nancy and I help each other organize closets, kid's clothes, etc. or watch movies while our husbands are working, in addition to sharing recipes, craft ideas, and sewing projects. 6) Encourage each other to work through the difficulties of life instead of walking away from them. Sometimes you just need to hear someone say, "This is hard. But you can work through it! And you are not alone!" Also remember, some relationships are there so that you can build the other person up, even when they have nothing to offer you. Step out and be a friend, but keep to the guidelines as well. Maintain a balance in your life of friends who pull from you and friends who fill you up. And let God use you in your relationships to draw others to him!

A Woman of Valor

Sometimes, when it feels as though I am just getting through each day, not really going anywhere but just getting by, I need to read something that will jolt me out of my routine and get me fired up again. This book did it for me; the fire is lit and I am ready again to do battle for God where I am, with who I am and what I have been given. The book is "So Long, Insecurity" by Beth Moore, and here are a few of my favorite fire-igniting quotes so far: "You are a God-clothed woman of valor and you have the privilege to wear divine strength like a garment." (That one I want on my mirror so I can see it every morning!) "Pride is dignity's counterfeit." "Our culture has done us no greater injustice than training us to avoid taking responsibility for our own issues...They have hijacked our healing. A clear heart and a clean path are still only one sincere confession away." "If you know Jesus Christ personally, He has chosen you, too, and has appointed you to accomplish something good. Something that matters. Something prepared for you before time began (Ephesians 2:10). Something meant to have a serious impact within your sphere of influence." So please, don't stay in that place of stagnation, but move, get fired up about something that matters, something with eternal significance. Because it might be your time to speak, to mend, to help the people around you heal. Even just by being who you are, where you are, with what you have. You are clothed with strength and dignity, you beautiful daughter of the King. You are a woman of valor.

Chapter 7 excerpt: "Taking Time Away"

When you are choosing a spot for your family vacation, I recommend finding a place that not only appeals to your whole family, but that is somehow special to you, that you can return to year after year. Some people long for the adventure of the unknown, but to us, in a very uncertain life, it seems comforting to be able to return to a place and have it remain largely unchanged. For my husband’s family, that place is Yosemite National Park. They hike the trails, take in the majestic views, ride bikes around the park, eat in the same restaurants, and take their picture in the same crack in the rock every year. My husband and his siblings love to look back at the pictures and reminisce as they have grown older, and all have returned with their own families. That continues to be a special place to our family, not just because of its awe-inspiring natural beauty, but because my husband is a more relaxed, joyful, and wonder-filled version of himself in the place where he had so many happy childhood memories. He said he can’t go there and look up at the granite cliffs without thinking of how powerful and majestic God is, like Psalm 90:2, “Before the mountains were born or You brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting You are God.” For me, you may have guessed, that place is the Oregon Coast. The dunes, the chilly water, the smooth stones, the vastness of the ocean, they feed my soul; they fulfill a longing in this rambling, world-traveled missionary child’s heart for a true home. I am reminded that “If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast,” Psalm 139:9-10. When I look out over that broad, silver ocean, with small hands clasping my own, anchoring me to earth, and smaller, purer hearts shrieking with sheer delight at the tiny breakers rushing over their feet, I am rooted again in the delight of the moment, reminded again that life can be simple and lovely and full of wonder. So pack your bags. Make your reservations, buy your tickets, or just get in the car and go. Find a hand to hold and something to laugh about and make your memories. Fill your reservoir with joy for the dry times, fill it full, and store up those sweet moments, because we all need to be reminded who we were before life got so crazy, so busy, so complicated. Fall in love with your spouse all over again, laugh with your family over something silly, sit around a fire and talk until the embers die down to a low, friendly glow. And then treasure these things in your heart.

Taking Time Away

A couple of weeks ago my little one came bounding into my room, hands stuck in a Seahawks hat, asking, “Can you help me fit my bun into this?” I laughed, since I was just pulling my own hair into a bun through the back of my own baseball cap. That evening we were all excited, since we were taking our two girls to their very first baseball game. Never mind that it was only AAA, and that the partly cloudy sky turned to a heavy drizzle during the sixth inning. We had the best time as we took it all in through the eyes of a five- and seven-year-old: the giant field; the stadium filled with more people than they had ever seen in one place; the vast array of delicious snacks to choose from (we settled on the classics- hot dogs and cotton candy); and, of course, the game itself, set free from our TV screen and alive in front of them. They learned about strikes and runs, danced the Macarena, and sang “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” It was an evening they will remember forever, and we will, too. The best part was when we were all huddled together, girls snuggled up on our laps under fleece blankets when the rain really began to come down. No one was ready to leave, and we witnessed the tie game turn into a dramatic win in the ninth inning, leaving us with the ecstatic feeling of victory as we made our way back to the car, the big one skipping along with her hand tucked in mine and the little one high up on Daddy’s strong shoulders. What kind of memories do you have as a family? What sweet, funny, or touching moments are tucked away in your mind, ready to be pulled out when you need to be reminded what a wonderful life you are blessed to live? What plans do you have to create those kinds of memories? Taking time away as a family and as a couple is crucial to forming that family identity and close bond that you will all need to be resilient in the difficult times.

Police Memorial Week

Not that we need any reminders that the police officers in our lives have a dangerous job, but this is a week where we are to remember the fallen. It is time to take a deep breath and ask God to comfort those who have lost a loved one in the line of duty, and to thank God for the officers in our lives that would give just as much if they had to. It is time to stop taking your precious moments together for granted, because while you were exchanging angry words out of frustration with your beloved, someone else's beloved never made it home, and they don't have the chance to say "I'm sorry" like you have right now. It is time to take your moments one at a time and own them, to choose your words carefully and decide to bless your spouse with them instead of cursing, to heal instead of hurt, to hold instead of push away. Say the loving words your pride doesn't want you to say. Start to love like you know you should. When your family is laughing and having a tickle war on the living room floor, instead of excusing yourself to clean up the kitchen, get down there with them and join in. This week, take time to remember the fallen, to be grateful and thankful for their sacrifice, and to honor their memory by using your days well. This is a better tribute to those who have given their lives than any sticker on your car.

The Time Has Come

Whenever my husband begins a graveyard shift deployment period, I make a list of projects that I have been wanting to tackle but can't seem to get to when my plans are fourth in line. You know how it is; work inside or outside your home all day, get kids to do homework, unpack and repack lunchboxes, have dinner, clean up dinner, get little bodies into bed, sit on the couch for an hour and fold laundry while Sports Center replays the only news you'll watch that day (this is why I have no idea what is happening in the world). Now there are plenty of things I dislike about graves: sleeping alone, keeping everyone quiet until 2pm, and mainly, missing my sweetheart while he hibernates upstairs in a darkened and muffled room. But I'm focusing on the good, and now, after 10pm, I do what I want. I can make a quilt out of my grandpa's favorite shirts that I brought home in a box after his memorial service. I can turn a pair of old wooden drawers I picked up from a closing children's boutique into shadowboxes or shelves to display my antique button collection. I can finally file my daughters' schoolwork and artwork into binders so they can look though the pages and ooh and aah over each others' work, as they love to do. I can make homemade bread with my Kitchen-Aid mixer so we can eat fresh bread like I did growing up. This is my creative season, the time that is my own, again. I just returned from a phenomenal and inspiring women's conference in which the speaker told us, "In the Bible, time doesn't go. Time always comes." I thought about that for several days afterwards. Time doesn't fly by. Time can't run out. It can only come. This year, the time came for my grandpa to be taken home to Jesus. The time came for a new baby to be born to my brother and his wife. The time came for a friend to move away. And the time has come for my husband to work nights again. The time has come for me to make a memory quilt, to restore shelves, to make art albums, to learn to bake bread. My time has come. And instead of being lonely or sad, I am going to own my time. Because it is only for a season, after all, and there will come a time when my time again is our time, and I can snuggle with my man on the couch, share a bowl of popcorn, and watch our funny shows from the On Demand menu. But for now, I'm going to bake some bread.

To work OT or to not work OT; that is the question.

One more way to keep your family growing together toward compassion and resilience is to live within your means and avoid working overtime hours. This may sound odd, but how can Dad develop close relationships with his family if he is too busy working a ton of overtime so that they can have a nicer house, several extracurricular activities each that take time away and cost money, and all the latest technology so that everyone in the house can ignore each other while they each entertain themselves. It goes against our current culture to say it, but this is not how families were meant to live. What is important to you? Your beloved is already working a difficult schedule, and possibly sleeping during the day to make up for working at night. He may not get to eat with his kids very often, or take them to their sporting events, or see them win the spelling bee. But that larger house, that nicer car, or that vacation to Hawaii starts calling your name, and pretty soon, your husband finds himself continually signing his name to those overtime postings to build a nicer life for his family. Does this sound familiar? It is built into our husband’s DNA to want to provide well for us, and when we, their well-meaning wives, complain about not having what our neighbors have, or what we think we should have, that desire to provide goes into overdrive, and OT looks like the solution. Now, if you truly have expenses that can’t be avoided, or if your husband takes a couple of extra shifts a year to pay for vacation, then this post is not for you. However, if you encourage your husband to work overtime often so your family can have nicer things, this is an abuse of his time and energy. You are essentially telling him, “I value what you can give me more than I value spending time with you.” A good friend of mine whose husband is a firefighter explained to her two little boys, “Our house is not as nice as everyone else’s. We won’t have all the toys that all your friends will have. But that is okay, and we are going to be content with what we have so we can spend more time together with Dad.” Philippians 4:12-13 says “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” If you can be content with having less, but value the time you have together as a family, you will be happier than if you had traded that time for more things that will just wear out. It is time to put your treasure where your heart is, and give your husband permission to come home and enjoy you and your family. Time spent together will knit you together as a family, and give you the resilience to get though the difficulties that will inevitably come in the life of a law enforcement family.

Raising Resilient Kids

From the time my children could understand words, I would talk to them about their Daddy, the hero. “A hero is someone who saves lives, and that is what your daddy does,” I would tell them as I fed them goopy rice cereal in their high chairs. As I changed diapers, gave bubble baths, and put them to bed by myself, I told them that their Daddy loved them, but he had to work a lot at night because he helped people who couldn’t help themselves, fought for people who could not fight for themselves, and rescued people who needed rescuing. When they were preschoolers, they took a tour of the police station and saw the jail cell for adults who made bad choices and wanted to hurt others, then the candy drawer for kids who make good choices, and then got to take home a lollipop and a shiny badge sticker. They have seen the inside of my husband’s cruiser; the molded plastic backseat with the gap that allows room for the passengers to wear handcuffs while they ride to jail. They are as knowledgeable as a four-year old and a six-year-old should be about law enforcement, and they adore their daddy for who he is and what he does. They have been through years of night shifts and swing shifts in their young little lives, and know the heartbreak of missing their daddy when he is not there to say goodnight, or even eat a meal with them for days at a time. But before you get out the tissues, know this: they are two of the toughest kids you will ever meet, in a good way. Not calloused or unfeeling, but resilient, hopeful, adaptable. They can cope with disappointment better than most adults I know. And they know that while Daddy may not be around as often as they wish he was, he loves them and works hard to keep them safe.

Something New!

A law enforcement family that I am acquainted with through my work has begun a new chapter of their life and a new business: Beloved Carpentry. The pieces are rustic, gorgeous, simple; I want to redecorate my hand-me-down house around them and start fresh! You can find them on facebook, and I highly recommend taking a look! Enjoy!

PoliceOne article: "Everybody's Crazy: Adjusting Expectations for a Happy Career"

Everybody's crazy: Adjusting expectations for a happy career Setting realistic expectations about the human condition can keep our own blood pressure in check by Chief Joel F. Shults, Ed.D. Nobody calls 911 to invite you to their kid’s birthday party — unless Johnny didn’t get what he wanted and is now on the roof taking pot shots at the neighbors with Daddy’s deer rifle. Normal isn’t what we’re about. Can you imagine a doctor complaining that everybody she sees is whining about being sick or a mechanic that finds it strange that all of his customers seem to be having car trouble? And yet, we often finish the day asking ourselves, “Is everybody out there nuts?” Behavioral and Mental Health Issues One of the soul-crushing aspects of police work is that most officers really do want to help people but find them ungrateful and unresponsive. We enter the profession thinking that people will appreciate us. We train with role-players who respond rationally, know our language, and eventually comply. We get training on how to “de-escalate” and communicate effectively (both of which depend on the ability of highly emotional people to think rationally). For the most part, we do amazingly well. But the reality is we seldom are dealing with victims or suspects who are at their best. If someone calls the police it likely means they are in crisis. Our very presence makes people assume something is going wrong. Numbers, Numbers, Numbers! Consider the fact that 26 percent of Americans have a diagnosable mental illness — half of those having more than one disorder. Although only six percent of the population has a serious mental illness and most mental illnesses are not related to violence, police contact for those who do act out is highly likely. Nearly ten percent of the population will have a mood disorder in any given year and major depression affects nearly seven percent in a given year. Twenty percent of the nation is on psychiatric medication. For college students, incoming freshmen are medicated at a rate of one in four for depression, ADHD, and a variety of other behavioral or mental health issues. An estimated 30 percent of the population will have drug dependency problems at some point in their lives. An average of nearly four percent of the population will seriously contemplate suicide in any given year. One percent of the U.S. population has some level of autism. Sixteen percent of the population has hearing impairment. More than a million persons in the U.S. are legally blind. One in seven has a learning disability. Eighteen percent of Americans are classified as having a disability. Perhaps one of 25 is diagnosable with psychopathy. Nine percent of the population has limited English proficiency. With 90 at the lower end of the category of normal intelligence, 25 percent of the population has an IQ under 90 (the average IQ of police officers is 104). The Winning Lottery Ticket Okay, enough statistics. Let me put it another way. What are the odds that you are going to deal with a citizen who processes thoughts and information the way you do? How frequently do you encounter a suspect, victim, or witness with no cognitive impairment, not under the influence of alcohol or other drugs, and in complete control of their emotions and behavior, and who is not physiologically undergoing high stress? If you find yourself living a day on patrol when everybody you contact is as together as you are, that might be the day to buy a lottery ticket. It is no wonder that police officers who expect others to behave at a high or even average level are destined for disappointment. Setting realistic expectations about the human condition can keep our own blood pressure in check. Expect challenges in communication and compliance. Maintain the tools to deal with everyone you meet, at every level of their ability. It is irrational to assume people will always act rationally. Even high-performing individuals have bad days. Patience, respect, and empathy are important tools for gaining compliance in non-lethal encounters. 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.

Indestructible

Dying is hard to do. I thought it usually just happened suddenly, so suddenly that no one got to say goodbye. In my first real experience with death, however, it took so long that by the time death came, I was ready. I got to spend two precious, unforgettably beautiful and difficult days in a hospital this week, holding my grandpa's hand as he battled against life. He was the strongest man I have ever known, in body and in spirit. He worked on tractors and trucks for so many years that his hands felt stronger than any wrench, and smelled like old engines. He was built like a tank, despite his lack of height. He had a heart so big, his home held four children, countless foster children, and many more who just needed a place to rest and recover from whatever the world had dealt them. His generosity knew no borders; he and his family lived simply and the rest of their income went to missionary families and their work, spanning the globe. He loved deeply, marrying his high school sweetheart and keeping her smiling until the day he left this earth. His voice was resounding; as a pastor he loved to lead worship from the pulpit, and I can still hear his booming voice singing "Victory in Jesus" and "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." When it came time to let go of breath, his body would not give up. It frustrated him to have a heart that just kept on pumping; a set of lungs that just kept on breathing. He denied food, drink, or pain medication, and still managed to sing "Love Lifted Me" and "I'll Fly Away" through the pain, believing it was only a matter of hours before he'd be singing those same songs from a different perspective. When I joked with him, he grinned and winked at me; when I cried he said "Rejoice!" and later, when his eyes opened wide and he pleaded with me to let him go, I stroked his forehead and whispered in his ear that God was still getting his room ready, but it would be soon, and he smiled again. I held his hand and looked into his face for two whole days, and what I saw there was not fear. There was peace, trust, beauty, patience, and courage. He was looking forward to heaven, to seeing Jesus, knowing that all the pain was only a second birth into the eternal life he had been promised in God's Word. Being in that room with him was strikingly like being at a birth: so much pain, hands grasping other hands tight, the knowledge that things would get worse before they got better, but so much joy would be waiting on the other side. It was an incredible honor to hold my grandpa's hand, to sing with him, to kiss his cheek, to slowly and patiently wait out those last minutes of time with him. Unforgettable, heartbreaking, beautiful, life-changing. May I live with just a little of that indestructible faith that he displayed all his life. "Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14. "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near." Philippians 4:4-5

New Year's Resolutions for a Happy Police Wife

In honor of the new year, and in observance of my husband's new swing shift, which I believe I am going to hate, but patiently deal with, I have composed some resolutions any police wife can take on as her own: 1. I resolve to make a turkey sandwich cheerfully when asked, since it is the only meal of the day I get to make for him, instead of going on a childish tirade about how I hate touching lunchmeat. 2. I resolve to use my alone time not just to clean the house obsessively, but also to do things that I truly enjoy and that feed me, like reading, sewing, writing, and working out. 3. I resolve to work out at least two nights a week. It's a list of New Year's resolutions; it has to be on here and you know it. 4. I resolve not to eat leftovers on the nights he works just so I don't have to cook, but to make yummy food for my kids and for myself. It is also a good time to make foods he doesn't like, such as our dinner tonight, Ranch Chicken Pasta with Broccoli. Curry is next on the list. 5. I resolve to finish writing my book while he works this shift. I have four months to write five chapters. I can do this. 6. I resolve not to snap at my children just because I am tired and lonely at night, but offer to snuggle and read a book to them instead. 7. I resolve to stay up until he comes home at least once a week to surprise him with the pleasure of my company. And then actually be pleasant company! 8. I resolve to not nag about the trash this year. Seriously this time. 9. I resolve to eat a whole container of spinach, just once, before some of it goes bad. 10. I resolve, once again, to grow in the love I have for my husband and my family until I am loving them each the way God loves them. So help me, God!