Good days...

They say that it takes a village to raise a child...and it does. But, it also takes a village to survive adulthood. I truly understand why Peter Pan never wanted to leave Neverland and grow up, because being an adult sucks. What makes the suck less sucky, is your village.

Military spouses don't have the opportunity to put down roots for their family and nurture friendships slowly over time. If people were plants, we would be of the cacti variety. We grow in harsh conditions. We may have thick skin, but can bloom beautifully. Our roots are shallow, meaning they spread far and they spread fast to grab hold of those they meet as they move every few years, hoping to form friendships for themselves and their children. You know the song, "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen? Well military spouses have their own version. "Hey, I just met you...and this is crazy...but can I have your number for my kid's emergency contact...maybe?"

Humans, by nature, are social creatures. So moving to a new base, a new town, a new state, a new country, means finding those creatures that you can connect with and lean on when times get tough. Because, if 2020 has taught us anything, it's that as sucky as life can be...man can it get worse. And, while we know that nurses and doctors, teachers, military, store clerks, truck drivers...and more...are all essential to our way of life, when you have only your family for company (thank you quarantine) or only your kids to talk to daily (thank you deployment), you realize that friends are essential to our way of living.

My last blog post was about a couple of 'bad days' that I had. We all have them. They are sometimes even necessary to purge the negativity we come across in our daily routines. But life is all about balance...which means, when you get rain, you also get rainbows. (The picture below is a rainbow I was able to capture outside our house a few weeks ago. It was THE brightest rainbow I have ever seen...it was stunning).

The morning after my blog post about my bad day, there was a bag by my front door. I posted my blog Sunday evening...and when my daughter's nurse showed up at 8am the next morning, there it was when I opened the door. I wasn't expecting anything...so of course I was excited to see what was inside.

An amazing travel mug (that has already bumped its way up to my favorite), chocolate (yes please!), wine (double yes!), a journal (I mean...I do like to write...), a lovely scented candle...all topped off with a heartfelt card from an amazing neighbor. The surprise of the gift was lovely. But the underlying feeling of comfort that the gift gave was priceless. It was a small bag with just a few things...but it was so much more.

It was support. It was a message that said, "I heard you. I can't do much, but I can do this, and I'm thinking about you." It was a root reaching out in this place where we've only been planted for 7 months.

That evening, around 11pm, I wasn't feeling well. Pain in my arm, rapid heart rate, a night of nausea the evening prior, I was freaking out that I was having a heart attack. (I have a tendency of over-reacting...husband...dad...no comments are necessary from either of you). The part that had me most upset was the fact that I was by myself. My kids were asleep, and I was alone.

But I wasn't alone. I called a neighbor and she came and sat with me. She knew a doctor who, thankfully, was in a time zone where she was still awake, and she was able to ask me questions regarding what I was feeling and calmed me down. The cold and wet weather was most likely making old tendinitis in my throwing arm from years of softball act up, the elevated heart rate was due to the pain, and I was essentially, working myself into a panic attack. But...there were those roots again. I was able to reach out and take hold and not be alone. I had support. I had comfort. I had, "I'll be right there," when I needed it.

When you move, your neighbors become your new normal. They become your foundation for the life you will build with your family for however brief, or in some rare cases long, a time you will be there. The most we can hope for is for those who surround us to offer those roots for us to attach our own to. For stability. For friendship. For strength.

Communities are not just made of those you live near, though. I was going to the pharmacy at the Naval Hospital to pick up a prescription for my youngest daughter. She's on a medication that is only good for 10 days, so it needs to be refilled constantly, and she's been on it since October, so this was nothing new. What was new today though, was that the wind and rain from yesterday had the hospital moving the outside pharmacy, inside. Well, thank you COVID, the hospital apparently would not allow me inside with my four year old to pick up the prescription. I asked the military member who wouldn't let me pass how I was supposed to get my daughter's medicine, and I was told, "I cannot let you in with your daughter."

We went back and forth several times. I explained my daughter was not school age, my husband was deployed, how was I supposed to get my youngest daughter's prescription? Nothing. Only that I could not enter. A line had built behind me waiting to get their temperature checked to enter the hospital, so I was asked to step aside. The woman behind me heard what was going on and said she would stay outside with my daughter. The woman behind her stepped up, asking, "What's the problem?" and then offered to help me as well.

I was in tears. I didn't know these women. I was frustrated and embarrassed. Taking my daughter home meant a 30 minute trip back to our house, finding someone to watch her, followed by another 30 minute trip back to the pharmacy, a wait that would be any amount of time to get the prescription, then 30 minutes back to the house once I got the prescription. At least an hour and a half of time I didn't have as I had other appointments to get to, and my daughter needs this medicine 3 times a day, I had to have it.

I took the offered help. I left my daughter outside (there are windows where I could see her the whole time from the pharmacy that was right inside the doors...because as I write this I feel like a horrible mother for leaving her at all) to run in and grab my youngest daughter's prescription. I came out to see the woman who offered help playing and hopping over cracks in the sidewalk in a game my 4-year-old invented on the spot. And I was so grateful. Grateful for women who would be there for other women. Grateful for mothers to be there for other mothers. Grateful that, without even having to ask, a stranger would offer help. Another root.

Ladies...I cannot thank you enough. To those whom I have come to know these past several months, to those who would offer help to someone they'd never even met, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for giving me those good days to balance the bad. Thank you for the rainbows. Thank you for the roots.