Doing Hard Better Than Anyone Else: Thoughts on Veterans Day 2024

I joined the Navy at 23 years old.  The atmosphere suited me - organization, structure, challenges, the camaraderie; I loved it, and was convinced I would be the first female Chief of Naval Operations.  I lived and breathed my uniform as an extension of me.  One and a half years into my service, I embarked on another adventure, marrying Jason Springer, my best friend and a fellow shipmate.  Jason and I had gone through two training schools together and were stationed on opposite sides of the country; he in San Diego, I in Winter Harbor, Maine.  Only 74 days after we were married, Jason went overboard from the USS Kinkaid and was lost at sea in the Pacific Ocean, making me a widow one month shy of my 25th birthday.  We had only been together for 8 days of our short marriage, and his death sent me into a tailspin.  I looked for him in every uniform, and though my uniform still very much defined me, I changed so much over the course of the next year that I had a difficult time recognizing myself.  

After serving four years, I took my uniform off for the last time to go to college and study psychology.  I needed to understand how something like the death of a spouse could so fundamentally change a person.  And even though leaving the Navy was my choice, it still felt like another death, like my identity was being stripped away.  I cried the day they read me out for my clearance, and I turned in my military ID card.  Life was not unfolding according to my plan, but God’s plan for me was bigger than what I could see.  Proverbs 16:9 says it best: “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”  

Each veteran’s service is as unique as the social fabric of America.  I’ve met veterans from every state in the US, every territory, Africa, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East - from a white girl born in rural Arkansas to a Green Card holding Nigerian, from a black boy who grew up in the Bronx to a naturalized citizen from Lebanon.  

What each veteran has in common is a love of our United States of America - a country like no other, where freedom reigns and hope is alive.  And if anything else is universal among us, it is this - we find purpose in a cause greater than self.  In the Navy, we are taught there is no “I” in team.  One of the Air Force’s core values is “service before self,” something the Army calls “selfless service.”  As inspirational as these are, the Bible says it even better in Philippians 2:3-4 when Paul said, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.  Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.”  Through Christ, we have inherited a heart of service and a mandate.

A few weeks ago, I went to a convening of veteran service organizations at the Bush Institute. One hundred twenty leaders from across the country, working on a broad spectrum of veterans' issues, spent two days collaborating and discussing the “Veteran Landscape.”  Among our discussions were: education and career opportunities, suicide and mental health, and how to set veterans up for success when transitioning out of the service.  There are so many issues facing veterans, but their most universal struggle relates to loss: loss of structure, loss of camaraderie, and loss of purpose.

Having lost Jason and my Navy identity, I can wholly relate to this.  I needed to find myself - find my purpose.  These experiences had to be useful, and Jason’s death could not be in vain.  On the 3rd day after he went missing, and two days after the search for his remains was suspended, words could not describe my anguish.  The pain is still vivid after 27 years.  I thought I would die of dehydration from the tears that wouldn’t end.  In the quiet of my room, I verbally cried out to God, “God, please take this away from me.  I can’t do this anymore.”  In Philippians 4:6-7, Paul writes, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  God met me in that moment, in the heaviness of that room, and calmed the storm.  His palpable peace filled my lungs and mind, and in the greatest moment of clarity I’ve ever known, I looked at my desk and saw a brochure from the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, also known as TAPS.  I called the number and that evening met a woman named Bonnie who would go on to become one of my dearest friends.  In that first conversation, I made a commitment to “make it matter.”  And through Jason’s death, I found my purpose, as I have worked for TAPS for 11 years now.  In 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, Paul says, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”  This is my purpose.

When I speak with wives whose husbands have died by suicide, it can be gut-wrenching.  When moms share their broken hearts, the mom in me cries with them.  When I attend funerals of our fallen heroes, it takes me back to the day a uniformed officer placed Jason’s folded flag in my hands, and I heard the mournful “TAPS” played for the first time.  Yes, sometimes it’s hard, but I had a recent conversation with General Martin Dempsey, the 18th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in which he said, “We have to do hard better than anyone else.”  He was speaking about veterans, but this is relevant to us all as Christians.  We draw on the strength of Jesus to lean into hard places, dark places.  Jesus didn’t run from the broken.  He didn’t shrink from pain.  He calls us into the world, starting in our families and communities, to hold these difficult spaces.  

In 1 Peter 3:13-15, Peter calls to us, “Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good?  But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed.  Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.  But in your hearts, revere Christ as Lord.  Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”  Our veterans might well live under this scripture, as they have since the inception of this great American experiment, sought to do good, often under threat, often afraid, and often suffering, sometimes even for years after their service, as I have seen, as many of us have seen.

Like these damaged and repaired flags, which have been gifted to us as a reminder, we each can point to our own scars and brokenness.  But just as these flags have found new purpose, through the generosity of our scars and Christ’s wounds, by which we are healed, we can proclaim a new purpose.  And with absolute certainty, we can give an account of where our hope comes from.  As the old hymn goes:

    My hope is built on nothing less

    Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness

    I dare not trust the sweetest frame

    But wholly lean on Jesus’ name

I have been married to my husband Arie for 25 years now.  By the time he retired from the Navy in 2014, the total time he had been deployed away from me and our three kids was more than 5 years.  Others who have served no doubt share similar experiences, and I recognize that you don’t have to be a veteran to understand struggle and sacrifice.  Nonetheless, in recognition of this Veterans’ Day, to my fellow veterans and the families who have served alongside them through many sacrifices, I say thank you for doing hard better than anyone else.  In the spirit of service, may we all continue to serve God by serving others, finding and renewing our purpose.  And as we lean on Jesus’ name, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13)

Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Colonoscopy!

The day of my surgery, my sister and I were sitting in the waiting room contemplating the early morning giddiness we both seemed to be manifesting. I'm not sure why but everything seemed funny. Both of us being military wives, it's nothing new that we are ID'd nearly everywhere we go. It's a fact of life we've grown as accustomed to as our daily underwear change. On that morning though it struck us as quite odd that I would be carded for my surgery. In essence, this is the conversation that ensued . . .

Why are they ID'ing you? I mean what person in their right mind would walk in and say, "Eeny, meeny, miny . . . colonoscopy - yeah, I'll have the surgery that guy over there is having!" Of course it was me checking in for my reconstructive surgery! LOL The fun didn't stop there as we found other silly things to laugh about.

At one point, I noticed Valerie looking around at the other patients in the room. She was trying very nonchalantly to glance out of the corner of her eyes at the feet of all the gown-garbed patients' hospital-issued socks. As it turned out, every other patient in the room was a man. Suddenly Val leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Do your socks have stripes on both sides?" Top and bottom is what she meant. When I told her yes, she laughed and revealed to me that she thought it was just that all the men in the room were dumb. We both got a big chuckle out of that one, especially as she looked down and saw the rubbery stripes on the top of my feet too! Actually, I was beginning to sound like Muttley. You know, the canine side-kick of Dick Dastardly in the Wacky Races cartoons from my childhood? (Yes, I sound like Muttley when I laugh hard, hence my occasionally used nickname.)

We just couldn't stop laughing. Why was everything so funny? I still don't know. One thing is for sure though - it made the waiting to go under the knife bearable. Thank God for my sister! We chatted the time away so effortlessly that I even came up with a new doll. When I was a kid there was a doll named "Chatty Kathy". I asked, what if created a new doll and called her "Chatty Natrix"? Somehow one of my sister's nicknames I've bestowed on her came from a blending of a previous nickname along with the Matrix movie as I had one day envisioned her dodging bullets like Keanu Reeves' character. The name "Natrix" was born and she is now lovingly referred to as both Aunt Ralph (Ralph was my childhood nickname for her) and Aunt Natrix (this is obviously the more "super hero" version of my kids' aunt, which of course she is to them).

I started to contemplate what characteristics the Chatty Natrix doll would have. Let's see . . . she would obviously have to have at a minimum:
1. obnoxiously white, straight, and cavity-proof teeth, and be a dental expert
2. eyes that squint really hard as she laughs
3. an accompanying canine companion larger than her and roughly the size of a Clydesdale
4. a built-in psychology manual and parenting manual capable of delivering timely insights at the pull of a string
5. and no doubt, a really cool Matrix-like black jacket and coordinated shades that would flow as she dodged life's bullets with grace like Nemo (if you haven't seen the movie, this isn't funny to you at all).

These don't even scratch the surface of all this doll could be based on the original, but I could never nail Valerie down to a fixed set of characteristics anyway. She's a polymorphous creature able to both leap tall buildings in a single bound and simultaneously blend in with the bystander. She's my sanity and my proverbial muse. She's both simple and beautifully complex - and she's my sister! :)

Being ever the extrovert, once my IV was placed and the staff began to grow in numbers around my pre-op cubicle, I continued to chat up the nurses when suddenly my whole world began to slur. Actually, according to Val it was the sound of my voice. I looked at the nurse anesthetist and said, "Did you just give me something?" Of course she had and within about 10 seconds I reached a place where no memories remain. I don't recall the bed moving or any sounds and afterward was sure that I had fallen into a deep coma until Val shared with me that I was still mumbling rather unintelligibly and attempting to carry on a conversation as they rolled me down the hall toward the OR. We had all been laughing together before they drugged me. I'm sure that's why I woke up laughing.

They say you wake up however you went to sleep. I'm glad my awesome sister and husband were there to greet me as they rolled me past the waiting room whereupon I was laughing and shouted out to the whole room, "I have BOOBS!" As the room full of people chuckled at my cheesy smile and obvious joy, my sister announced to them, "It's been awhile since she's had boobs." Apparently this was also a declaration I made several times while being rolled down the hall toward the recovery room. LOL

And My Navy Life Began...With a Great Leader

(I graduated from Navy boot camp on August 18, 1995. I wrote this on behalf of all the young women in my division to honor our leading Recruit Division Commander. Chief LeVault was what we were told to call him because he had just been selected for chief. The photo shows him as a 1st Class Petty Officer. He has since gone on to become a Master Chief. He taught me many things, including how to run and breathe properly. He also has a daughter named Audrey.)

"To Chief LeVault, for all of your dedication to the success and integrity of the recruits of Division 321. With your knowledge and wisdom you have transformed each of us into someone we can all be proud of. From our hearts we applaud you and thank you for starting our careers off on the right foot. We salute you!

We knew not what we had set ourselves up for as we stepped from the safety of the bus. We had clung to each other through the last mile anxiously awaiting our first encounter with our futures. That night there was little or no sleep and many tears of anger, fear, and frustration. We knew so very little about our new way of life and all the information flooding our minds. It was like taking a drink of water from fire hose. There was no turning back, or so we thought, and though most of us stayed, a select few chose the path home. In spite of their absence they live with us still.

We grew, beginning with our first group shower, from meek and timid girls into independent, responsible, and headstrong women. Through the meticulous standards and grooming of our division commanders we learned attention to details, dedication to teamwork, and an unyielding devotion to each other and all our other shipmates which we will carry with us to the fleet.

Chief LeVault said early in our training that he would not send any recruit into the fleet unprepared. Hopefully, we have proved to him as well as Petty Officers Knapp and Collier that we have what it takes to be successful, career-minded, and able sailors. We all hope we have become what they knew we could be from the start. Their eyes have held looks of frustration and anger at times, but those looks have faded to pride and encouragement more often than not.

Looking back on our beginnings can truly humble us when our white belts start going to our heads. It wasn't long ago that we were less than all we could be. How could we possibly have come this far without the support of our shipmates and our division commanders? Not only have we grown together, but we've also grown up. We can now appreciate more the fruits of our labor because we know we all put forth one-hundred ten percent. United we stand, divided we shall never be because there is no "I" in team. We are there!"





(The "white belts" is a reference to the belt worn by recruits in the weeks just before they graduate. Among recruits it signals one's higher standing within the ranks, noting that one is coming to the end of surviving two months of training. For some it's hell, for others it's transforming. For me, it strengthened my weaknesses, making me more confident in myself and my future. It was a very formative period of my life that I would undertake again in a heartbeat!

The following week at the graduation ceremony I received the Military Excellence Award, which is given to only one recruit per graduation. I think our week saw 671 sailors graduate. To receive that award I had gone through a review board about two weeks before graduation and was quizzed on military knowledge in addition to having my uniform picked over for every fine detail. My shipmates were really pulling for me and it looked good for my recruit commanders to have someone from their division selected for this award. I recall polishing my boots as never before, but it wasn't just me. When my hands would get tired of pressing that frayed, polish-covered tampon against my boot, a shipmate would take over. That's how it was...shipmates looking out for each other and pushing each other to greatness. I appreciate every person who sat next to me and helped me polish those boots. In the end it wasn't just me who received that award, but every person in my division who quizzed me on military knowledge and helped me polish my uniform. All of this pushed me to want more and I began to think in terms of being a "lifer". Though I stumbled along the way, I made the rank of E-4 and was determined to switch uniforms and become a "khaki", a leader.

Eventually, I met Arie. We were stationed in Pensacola, Florida, at the same time and went on to receive orders to the same follow-on command, NSGA Winter Harbor, Maine. Years later, after developing a strong friendship, we were married. Initially, we were planning to take orders together. When we left for our honeymoon we were expecting to return to Maine to find orders waiting for us. We were supposed to be on our way to Puerto Rico. Shortly after returning from our honeymoon in Holland we learned two things: our orders had been canceled (we would be instead moving to Hawaii), and we were pregnant.

Once our pregnancy came into the picture we were certain of one thing. Dual military careers and kids don't mix well and the kids are the ones who suffer most. We made a decision for one of us to leave the Navy and since I was only four months from the end of my enlistment, it should be me. Arie still had two years left before he could have discharged and in the meantime, our son would have been raised for two years by the military child care system. Neither of us wanted that for our son, so here I am...

It was hard to leave the active duty Navy. The days I gave back my ID card and security badge, I cried. It felt at the time like the death of a goal, a dream. Since then, I've realized that the goal I traded-in my ID card for was much more important. I've loved being a stay-at-home-mom. Sometimes I tell Arie I'm living my Navy career vicariously through him and at times I still miss it - but every morning when I awake I'm met with three warm smiles that remind me why I'm not walking out the door with my uniform on.

U.S.S. John S. McCain Family Day Cruise

Koen finally had a chance to see what Daddy does for a living. Well sort of . . . none of us will ever really know. We spent the entire day of January 24, 2008, on the USS John S. McCain - out at sea!

We left the house before the sun came up and headed out on the one-hour trip from Yokohama to Yokosuka. Our feet hit the deck of the ship just after 7:30 a.m. The McCain was moored to the pier and the USS Stethem was moored to us. It took a while to get underway, but once we were, boy were we in for a treat.

The CO (commanding officer) came over the 1MC (shipwide intercom) and told the families to muster (meet) on the mess decks (dining room). (Sorry about all the navy lingo for you non-navy types.) He met us there and informed us that we would be breaking into small groups of 6 to be led around to the various ship departments by ESWS-qualified personnel. We were also going to have the opportunity to receive an honorary ESWS qualification. ESWS (Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist) sailors are qualified to stand watches all over the ship. Theoretically, they should be able to do the basic job of any other sailor on the ship. We were given a sign-off sheet to carry to each department. After asking all of our questions (some of which stumped even the experts) we got our signatures.

Two hours into our tour, the boatswain came over the 1MC and blew the whistle for lunch. Boy is the whistle long and loud. We headed back to the mess decks and were greeted with an amazing lunch of steak and king crab! The crab was particularly delicious! We definitely had good timing on that meal. They only have a meal like that once a month. All the other days leave a little to be desired.

After lunch, we spent time learning about the launching system, radar, sonar, damage control (fire fighting and shoring), medical services, and command and control to name a few. The most time was spent on the bridge where Koen met the CO, sat in his chair, and even had an opportunity to steer the ship! He loved it. After our tour, we headed to the award ceremony where about 20 family members received an official honorary ESWS certificate. Jokes were made that some wives even got their ESWS before their husbands. It normally takes about 6 months to complete.

In the end, we headed back to the bridge while the ship sailed into port doing 30 knots! The spray flew all the way to the bridge, soaking the guys manning the guns. Koen was amazed. So was I. We had a great time learning. We got great exercise using the ladders. We met lots of the crew who seemed to have great morale. It was a day well spent - all 12 hours of it! (And that doesn't include drive time.) We look forward to going again in the future!

The Lure of Old Glory

It comes into view, presented to the crew
Accompanied by a brief moment of silence.
The folds roll and sway inviting the melody
To dance among the Stars and Stripes.
From somewhere aloft a note rings out,
With all hands at attention.
The mood you know is solemn and proud
Almost too much to mention.
Through time and trial, with bloodshed and tears
She remains our symbol of faith and hope of freedom
To last throughout the years.