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!