I belong to a local Moms Of PreSchoolers (MOPS) group. Once a month we get together for a time of fellowship, crafts, talking, laughing, catching up and play time for the kiddos. It’s been a great resource for me and for my four year old daughter, Emma. Each season MOPS International, the organization that provides the structure for local MOPS groups, picks a different focus or theme for the various readings, teachings and crafts.
Last season the theme was “The home factor.” Discussion was primarily focused on the importance of home, and the function of the home. Our first meeting that season was very hard for me to swallow, and had flared up some grief for me.
When we started our MOPS group that day we went around in a circle and introduced ourselves and we had to tell one thing that we really love about our house. I started choking up immediately. I could feel the tell-tale signs of a meltdown. My eyes were watering, my throat had a lump in it, my breathing became labored and I was working overtime trying to push down the emotions that wanted spew out of me with volcanic force!
What do I love about “my house/home?” We had just sold our home a few months prior to this. Since that time of selling my husband had left for Ft. Benning and my son was in Iraq. My middle son had moved out to attend college, and we (my youngest two and myself) were left behind to pick up the household and move again. We moved to a very lovely home, but neither Bryan nor Mike had ever stepped foot into it. I had a hard time feeling at home because my memories of my two soldiers were set in different surroundings, and I had no point of reference for them in the new place.
When the question finally came near full circle, it was time for me to answer. I explained that I did not identify my home with a physical location, but rather I had to identify it with the people that I love. That was a daunting task since the people I love were scattered around the globe, and there would be extremely limited amounts of contact with them. I finally came up with an answer and said that my favorite place in my home was where I put my pictures. It was at that time that I realized that no matter where my soldiers ended up, in the long run, my duty during this time of war was to keep the home a welcome, safe and stable place for them to come home to.
Our home is a refuge. Our home is fairly quiet, except for when it is filled with laughter. Our home often smells of good food and clean laundry. We have our dysfunctions and our ugly spots since we are most definitely an imperfect group of human beings. However, when we each walk out of the door we are faced with challenges.
Some of us face challenges in school, one little girl is facing the challenges of learning to take turns with others, while one of us was facing challenges in a combat zone. We have suffered cuts, breaks, bruises and wounded egos in our battles over the last couple of years. Regardless of where our physical house has been, one thing remains the same, we come home to regroup, rest, and stay for a time of being built back up.
Here, in this home and in these rooms, we do not need to explain everything to one another in detail. We can tell what the other one needs. Sometimes he may need a quiet room to sit and think in, or she may need a comfortable chair to sit and read in, and we each want the other to have what he or she needs.
Having the guys home has been wonderful. It has helped me to remember how important and vital my role is in their lives. Sure, there are some people in this world who would look at my life and think it is a Mickey Mouse kind of time. I know better. When men go off to war they launch from their homes. They launch from their homes, their wives and their kids… or if they are unmarried they launch from their parents, siblings and peer groups. The stronger and more sturdy the launch board the further out they are able to go, and the better landing they have upon reentry. Every soldier deserves to have a home to come back to, and he needs a home where he is safe to take his boots off, stretch out and relax.
When Mike came home for a short leave from Iraq I spent my time spending time building him up, reminding him of all that he has back here at home, and I cheered him on as he went back to Iraq to work toward the completion of his mission there. I am currently working on encouraging my husband’s reentry into the Army via the Reserves. When it comes time for him to relaunch he will be able to do it with confidence and reassurance that our separations do not break down the foundation on which our home is built.
