I stumbled across another woman's blog tonight, and I really enjoyed reading what she had to say. She's a military wife (Air Force I believe) who's husband is currently deployed. Though I've never had to go through a deployment with Heath I can certainly sympathize with her. Anyway, I really appreciated the poem she posted, so I figured I'd share it as well. (Is this technically blog-plagiarism? Haha, oh well if it is...I cited my source.)
I AM A MILITARY WIFE
I am a military wife -- a member of that sisterhood of women who have had the
courage to watch their men go into battle, and the strength to survive until
Our sorority knows no rank, for we earn our membership with a marriage license,
traveling over miles, or over nations to begin a new life with our military
Within days, we turn a barren, echoing building into a home, and though our
quarters are inevitably white-walled and unpapered, we decorate with the
treasures of our travels, for we shop the markets of the globe. Using hammer
and nail, we tack our pictures to the wall, and our roots to the floor as
firmly as if we had lived there for a lifetime. We hold a family together by
the bootstraps, and raise the best of "brats," instilling in them the motto,
"Home is togetherness," whether motel, or guest house, apartment or duplex.
As military wives we soon realize that the only good in "Good-bye" is the
For as salesmen for freedom, our husbands are often on the road, at sea, or in
the sky, leaving us behind for a week, a month, an assignment. During
separations we guard the home front, existing until the homecoming. Unlike our
civilian counterparts, we measure time, not by years, but by tours -- married
at Knox, a baby born at Portsmouth, a special anniversary at Yorktown, a
promotion in McDill.
We plant trees, and never see them grow tall, work on projects completed long
after our departure, and enhance our community for the betterment of those who
come after us. We leave a part of ourselves at every stop. Through experience,
we have learned to pack a suitcase, a car or hold baggage, and live
indefinitely from the contents within: and though our fingers are sore from the
patches we have sewn, and the silver we have shined, our hands are always ready
to help those around us.
Women of peace, we pray for a world in harmony, for the flag that leads our
men into battle, will also blanket them in death. Yet we are an optimistic
group, thinking of the good, and forgetting the bad, cherishing yesterday,
while anticipating tomorrow.
Never rich by monetary standards, our hearts are overflowing with a wealth of
experiences common only to those united by the special tradition of military
We pass on this legacy to every military bride, welcoming her with outstretched
arms, with love and friendship, from one sister to another, sharing in the
bounty of our unique, fulfilling military way of life.
If you're interested, here's her blog: