Our temporary dwelling...

After many attempts at getting special religious accommodations and many discussions with his commander and chaplains, Yoni had no choice but to return home with the rest of his squadron during the first yom tov days of the holiday Sukkot (during which we observe the laws restricting driving, phone, etc.).  So the kids and I packed up and headed to base so that we could walk to meet him as he got off the airplane and be there to spend the rest of the yom tov with him.

Thank G-d, all of the intense logistics worked out pretty seamlessly.  I'm not even going to go into all of the details here, because it made my head spin for a week and I don't want to do that to all of you.  But it could not have been done without help.  Some really amazing women (other pilots' wives) from the squadron helped with the kids while I unpacked and then had to switch rooms the next day.  It was also great for my kids to spend some fun time playing with their kids and for me to have some company while we eagerly anticipated Aba's return.

In some ways, I absolutely loved this arrangement.  When Yoni returned, we had a little vacation.  We had a day to completely relax and just spend time together as a family - almost like a mini vacation - before returning home to laundry, unpacking, and cleaning.

The biggest negative about him arriving on yom tov, in my opinion, is we were not able to take pictures of the reunion.  Thankfully, one of the wives had a friend there who's a professional photographer and happened to snap one shot of Adina as we watched the airplane taxi after landing.  I had the sling on to carry Ze'ev, but apparently he was off running somewhere.

Adina was very excited (contrary to her very serious look in the picture), and I knew that she would jump into Aba's arms once she saw him.

I wasn't quite sure how Ze'ev would react.  In the past two months, he has developed intense separation anxiety, and has refused anyone but Mommy.  I was so pleasantly surprised.  Within a minute, he reached his arms out to Aba, cuddled onto his shoulder and wouldn't let go.  Yoni has fed him a lot of meals and put him to sleep the past couple days, and Ze'ev is more than happy to not have Mommy around for all of those things.  Not only is it a little reprieve for me, but it is so nice for Yoni to have this time to bond with him. :)

Now we have about a week home together... until he resumes flying his week-long missions.  But hey, if I can handle 2 1/2 months, a week will feel like nothing!

Comparing a deployment to pregnancy...

A pregnancy is 9 months long and this deployment was only 2 1/2, but in a number of ways, the emotional cycles and the experiences as a whole are surprisingly similar!

THE FIRST TRIMESTER (The first two weeks of the deployment):
To the rest of the world, nothing has changed.  You look the same and they expect you to act the same.  But internally there's a lot going on!  You don't feel so good, and every other thought is consumed with this big change in your life.

In the "first trimester" of the deployment, only my close friends realized that this would be different than Yoni's regular trips.  Most people saw that he had left and thought he would be back soon.  No one realized how long of a time we would have to go without him, yet every minute of every day it was on my mind.

THE SECOND TRIMESTER (The smooth sailing middle month):
This is the best part of the pregnancy!  No more sickness, a cute little baby bump, and life goes on as normal...

Once our initial visits (which helped those first few weeks pass more quickly) were behind us and the kids finally kicked their little stomach bug, we had a good 3 1/2 weeks of routine and happiness!  I got a lot of sleep, worked on creative projects, and time seemed to fly by!

THE THIRD TRIMESTER (Those last few weeks...):
This new part of your life is getting bigger by the day!  You're starting to think, "Enough of this already.  I'm ready for it to be over."  That last week is the worst... everyone you see eyes you, wondering, "When's the baby coming??"

The last two weeks have seemed longer than the rest of the deployment put together.  It's so close yet so far.  And now, as we've entered the week window of his return, I almost feel like I'm at the end of a pregnancy.  The whole community is alongside me, awaiting the reunion!

POST-BIRTH (Together at last):
You hold that sweet little baby in your arms, and the entire pregnancy fades into a cloud of memories...

(Looking forward to this stage, as it hasn't happened yet...)
I see him get off the airplane, he spends time with me and the kids and it's as if he never left...

"Did you know what you were getting into?"

In the community where we live, it is fairly uncommon to live a military lifestyle.  People hear how often we will move and how often Yoni is gone and to some it sounds miserable.  Especially if they see me in the moments where I am not holding it together quite so well, I hear the question, full of concern, "Did you know what you were getting into?"  The truth is, I understand where this question comes from.  It makes sense that so many have asked me this, and I am sure if I were in their position I would ask someone as well.  And to those of you that have, thank you, because you inspired me to think about it.

Did I "know" what I was getting into?

On one hand, yes.  Yoni was already in ROTC, so on an intellectual level, I knew that he was going to be in the Air Force.  By the time we got engaged, he had already received a pilot training slot, so I knew that his job would be flying planes in the Air Force.  Yet at our L'Chaim (engagement party) in Dallas, I have a distinct memory of someone coming up to me and saying, "Welcome to the military!"  And I naively responded, "I'm not in the military.  Yoni is."

So to answer the question honestly, No.  I did not know what I was getting into.  Growing up in Columbia, MD, I did not have much exposure to the concept of military.  The most I knew was that we played Ft. Meade for a softball scrimmage one spring.  So I had a pretty steep learning curve once we moved to Enid, Oklahoma and the military became our every day life.  

This realization made me question, "Had I known what I was getting into, would I have made any decisions differently?"  And of course, my answer is absolutely not!  G-d probably didn't want me to know exactly what I was getting into at that point, because I was not mature enough to understand it yet, and He didn't want me to change my mind based on a scary future.  While the moves can be difficult while we are in them, and the separation feels excruciating at times, the end of the year comes and I look back at how each and every experience this lifestyle gives us is ultimately for our best.  These difficulties bring us closer to each other and teach us how to prioritize our lives.

And the truth is, does anyone truly know what they are getting into when they make any big decisions in life? Whether it is a decision to have a child, to marry someone, or even something less permanent like starting a new job, most people embark half-blind.  Before having the experience, it is not possible to have a complete awareness of what the experience will be like.  To make these kinds of decisions, one must combine the intellectual decision with the feelings of the heart.  Does it feel right?  If so, then you need to trust that it feels right for a reason and G-d is with you in the decision.  You will have Guidance and Support along the way.

Divine Providence, Separation, and Unlikely Sources of Inspiration – a Guest Blog Entry by Yoni Goldstein

Well, I have now been deployed for half of a month, and already I have appreciated and missed (dozens of times) the strong, vibrant Jewish community and warm, supportive family in Seattle. Before beginning to record my observations in earnest, I want to express my gratitude for having the opportunity to share some thoughts on this wonderful blog. I hope that you, the dear readers, can gain something from our experience this deployment.

We arrived in our deployed location and within two hours of hitting the runway and exiting the aircraft, I met the chaplain (a fine gentleman) and he informed me that two weeks hence, a couple of rabbis planned to spend Shabbat here on base. Needless to say, tired as I felt, I nearly jumped out of my skin and became overjoyed. How rare to spend Shabbat on deployment with other Jews with whom I had a common religious bond, background, and values set! Very excited, I proceeded to contact the chaplain after the meetings ended and hosted the two rabbis – very nice guys and a real pleasure to host – this past Shabbat. We’ll revisit this topic momentarily.

My biggest concern this deployment remained Shabbat observance, since I had fairly easily figured out the Kashrut issues and I actually have a kitchen where I can cook. Last deployment, I unfortunately had to break Shabbat sometimes (not all the time, B”H) because of our combat operations in and out of theater. Although I have a heter if necessary, I decided this time to do everything in my power – now that I have a little more experience and rank/clout – to keep every Shabbat to the maximum extent possible. Thus far, with 3 Shabbatot under my belt this deployment, I have been successful! Thank G-d, we arrived at our location on Friday morning and not evening, so I had plenty of time to prepare and procure lots of drinking water (Tisha B’Av, a 25-hour fast, fell the next night) and observed Shabbat with little trouble. The next week, however, enabled me to see the Hand of G-d almost openly.

My crew and I flew to Germany for an Aeromedical Evacuation stage mission which lasted about 6 days, conducting sorties in and out of the combat zone. We alerted to the airplane the next Friday, and immediately after takeoff, experienced a catastrophic environmental system failure. We shut down the left side of the environmental system and isolated the problem, but we had to turn around and land. Long story short, we landed in Germany about an hour and 10 minutes prior to sunset and the beginning of Shabbat. We hustled back to the hotel and I got to my room with three minutes to spare, so I set my lights and lit candles just before sunset. Aside from the rushing and hectic Friday, I actually had the opportunity to again observe Shabbat. Yes, I certainly missed my family tremendously, but I saw that G-d granted me a wonderful blessing and I had a very meaningful and Torah-filled Shabbat. In truth, I was slightly frustrated at first when the plane broke and we had to cancel the medevac mission (we had critical patients apparently waiting to be lifted out) but when I realized that I now had another opportunity to keep Shabbat, I did not dare question or pass it up. Dare I say, I maintain that I bore witness to a small miracle. Little did I know that my blessings would only multiply in the next week.

When we returned from Germany on Wednesday, I had not only about 20 pounds of kosher frozen chicken that I purchased there, but I also had several emails awaiting my attention regarding the two rabbis who planned to visit our base. They travel the world every summer as part of a Chabad program supporting small and far-flung Jewish communities. Our base became their first stop in this particular country. We corresponded through email briefly, and when I met them about two hours before Shabbat, I had tears of joy in my eyes at the whole concept of having a quorum with whom to share the sanctity and experience of Shabbat. With a few of the other Jewish personnel stationed here, we had a wonderful Kabbalat Shabbat prayer, festive dinner with copious amounts of L’Chaims, words of Torah, singing, and Michelle’s recipe for honey-soy chicken. The dinner lasted until about 1 o’clock in the morning, and we did not want it to stop! The next day I hosted lunch in my little room with a cholent, homemade brownies, and we had a wonderful experience. To think that halfway around the world, so far from a Jewish community of substance, we could have an authentic, beautiful Shabbat struck me as nothing short of inspirational.

Although I remain separated from my loving, sweet family for the next little while, I find it exceedingly important to retain a fresh perspective and positive outlook on life. One of the ways I have been able to maintain this mentality manifests itself in our basic Jewish purpose: cleave to G-d and become closer to Him. In the sometimes hectic pace of my Air Force career and very busy schedule, something so fundamental slips so easily through the cracks. Here, while I am flying missions regularly and working on my master’s, I miss my family and then I get to thinking about how to become a better husband and father upon my eventual return home. Ray Charles, among others, sung that “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” and that certainly holds true. Not only have I realized how much I miss Michelle and the children, I have also come to the conclusion that I must return home a far better man. In an interesting twist, I originally was supposed to deploy and return before the High Holidays. The schedule, however, changed and I am here for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Perhaps I am supposed to take away something from this; how should I utilize my time here, with the holidays, to become that better man? Once again, Michelle showed me the way through her own example and gentle prodding, to take the initiative and draw strength from within.

I have dedicated myself to take advantage of the opportunities here to bring Torah to this place and attempted to grow spiritually. Inspired by the example of my father and brother, two of my biggest heroes, I have begun to study daily one page of Talmud (the Aramaic Oral Law that explains and governs Jewish law and teaches us analytical thinking) and hope, with the help of G-d, to continue this practice as long as I can. In addition, the Chabad rabbis have linked me with the local Jewish community and the base community to organize Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services and blow shofar (the ram’s horn used to sound various blasts and call us to repentence). I never imagined such a thing ever occurring. What a unique opportunity!

A final word, if I may. As a very enthusiastic people-watcher, I have had the good fortune to observe the people in my unit, especially my crew, endure all kinds of stressors and difficult situations, both in flight and on the ground. In “Ethics of Our Fathers,” Chapter 4 Mishna 1, Ben Zoma (a great sage who lived over 1800 years ago) said, “Who is wise? One who learns from every man.” What does this mean? Defying conventional wisdom, a wise person is not one who teaches, but who is always willing to learn. We must be willing to take away lessons from every person we encounter, and in my crew I saw the vast spectrum of personalities, character traits, and learned something from each person. Perhaps the most poignant lesson I learned is the importance of the unique role of every type of person on a crew. We had several emergency situations and during the course of each one, every crewmember approached the problem from a different angle. Through their approaches I learned about them. The analytical thinker in our crew sought to determine the root cause, while the by-the-book, methodical individual broke out the checklists and troubleshot the problem. The emotionally-minded person thought of the mission we had begun and the consequences of turning back. He immediately began coordinating alternative plans and contingencies. Meanwhile, the calmest individual just strove to fly the plane and ensure that we maintained basic flight, navigation, and radio discipline over congested European skies. A hectic 30 minutes though it seemed, I learned so much about how people come together to work well as a team with a common goal, removal of the ego, and melding of personalities. It truly exemplified the crew resource management concept and saved our plane and crew for another day. 

Living by the calendar...

I think I have discovered the most negative aspect of having a mathematical brain.  Countless times each day, I calculate the percentage of the deployment that has passed and how far we still have to go.

On Monday, the day after my Dad left, I thought, "Wow!  It's been almost two weeks already!  That's amazing!  20% done!"
But Monday feels like weeks ago and today I find myself thinking, "Wow.  It has been only just over two weeks.  We still have almost 80% to go!"

Thank G-d, when we are in the midst of the days we are generally doing well.  I try to coordinate activities for the kids as best I can, and as long as they get their sleep and are eating well, they behave pretty nicely and make life doable for me.  Unfortunately, on those days when someone doesn't nap so well or someone refuses to eat everything I put on their plate and therefore gets hungry and cranky, I sorely miss having reinforcements!

I have decided that I for sure need to figure out a new plan for these last 8 weeks.  During the week my parents were here things went great.  But the days before that and the days since then, I find myself walking a tight rope, constantly on the verge of losing my patience.  This is very hard for me, because the parenting skill I have been trying so hard to hone in on in the past year has been my patience.  But when it is tested over and over again all day, with no one on my side, and no relief during waking hours, I would be superhuman if I could maintain it.

Now I have to determine the best strategy to maintain my emotional sanity for the rest of the deployment.  Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. :)

The deployment begins

The week leading up to Yoni's deployment had such an odd feel to it.
On one hand it was wonderful to have him home so much.  He spent more time with the kids in those last four days than he had been able to do in the past few months (if not more).  I had to mentally balance the joy at his presence and involvement with the nudging in the back of my head that all of this intensive time will make the transition that much more difficult for the kids (and me as well).

We mentioned to Adina once on Tuesday night that Aba would be leaving soon to fly the airplane to help people (in hopes she would start mentally preparing), and she stayed up until 9:30 in her crib "thinking."  Then Wednesday arrived.  Since she had been up so late, we had to wake her at 9:00 AM to get to gymnastics class, and then she promptly fell asleep when she got home, and we had to wake both of the kids at 1:30 to head to the Air Force Base.  She seemed very excited at first to see Aba's work and eat ice cream and see the airplane.

Then we watched Aba walk out to the airplane and waved goodbye.

I really can't decide if this was a good idea in retrospect and if we would do it again.  It made the goodbye process seem very drawn out and dramatic.  At the same time, this environment also encourages a happy goodbye rather than a sad one.  But that seemed to make the next day that much harder for me.

Without allowing myself to feel the sad emotions as I said goodbye, I felt them that much more strongly when I woke up Thursday morning and realized I wouldn't get to see Yoni for a few months.  

This allowed me to see another layer in the beauty of Adina's age and her perspective.  She can't comprehend the concept that she won't see him for such a long time.  She can truly take day by day without seeing the future days ahead of her.

While I was feeling emotional this morning, I had a very important realization.

First let me give a little background on the thought process.

For those not familiar with this time of year on the Jewish calendar, we are currently in "the nine days."  These "nine days" are the days between the first day of the month of Av and the ninth of Av.  The 9th of Av, or "Tisha b'Av" is the saddest day of the year, as we remember the destruction of the Temple (and countless other sad events in history which all occur on this auspicious day).  During the 9 days, the gemara explains that we should "lessen our joy."  We don't listen to music, we don't eat meat, and there are numerous other customs which serve as a constant reminder of the mourning.

This week I read an article on Aish.com, by Emuna Braverman on her experience with feeling this sadness.  She said she could never understand the concept of a "constant sadness" until she had the very difficult experience of losing an infant grand daughter.  Now, she says, at every happy occasion, at every moment, she feels the tragedy.  This, she said, is the kind of underlying sadness we should feel in not meriting to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem.

Today I understood what she meant.  Yes, we went about our normal routine, but behind every smile I had an underlying sadness at Yoni's absence.  The world continued on, unaware of our complete shift and transition to an Aba-less home.  But to us it is very real at every moment.

In the moments of tears, I felt for a minute what grief and loss could feel like.  And then I had a moment of intense gratitude that with G-d's help, this is temporary.  This intense sadness will be balanced with an equally intense joy at his return home.

In another Aish article I read today, an author was able to so eloquently convey the beauty of sadness in our lives.

In an excerpt, she writes...

Dear tears, versatile as you are, from somewhere in the past or right here in the present, as you make your way into my life, and then out again, please make sure the trail you leave goes all the way up back to God, so that when I look at you, I can follow your flow. And I can remember where I come from, and where I'm going. And I can remember that everything that transpires is orchestrated by the Grand Gardener who will sometimes water me with tears, so that I can grow...

"My baby misses my Aba"

The first few times Yoni went away on trips for the Air Force, Adina had a tough time.  She was almost two years old and she couldn't quite understand the concept of going away and coming back home.  Each time he left, she got devastated and each time he came home she spent almost an entire day being mad at him.  Eventually she started getting the hang of it.  She still could not verbalize her feelings, but she started giving him really big hugs the day before he left, going about life normally, and then being happy to see him upon his return, rather than resentful.

This past week I saw a major turning point in her processing of the experience.  On Tuesday, Yoni left in the afternoon.  She was awake, so she saw him put his bags in the car and gave him a hug as he walked out the door.  We purposely try to make these experiences as light-hearted as possible for her.  For better or worse, she will have a lot of goodbyes and reunions throughout her life.  If we condition her to take it in stride, knowing that the separation is temporary and the reunion will come soon, it will make these transitions much easier for her in the long run.  I can not see any benefit to conditioning her with tearful separations at each and every goodbye.  Between Aba's absences and the constant "Hi"'s and "Goodbye"'s from the family we are so blessed to have visit every few weeks, this would create a lot of sadness in a little heart.

On Tuesday evening, about an hour or two after Yoni's departure, Adina was caring for her doll as she usually does (rocking her, changing her diaper, singing her a song), and she walked over to me.  She said, "Mommy, my baby misses my Aba."  I said, "Aw, I know it's so hard for baby when Aba has to go on the airplane.  Does your baby need a hug?"  She said yes, and I gave her and her baby a big hug together.  Since then, once or twice a day, she says to her baby, "Aw, you miss my Aba, here's a big huggie.  I love you."  And then I am sure to give her a hug soon after.  I was so proud of her and think this is a very healthy, good way of dealing with the emotions she feels in Aba's absence.

His next trip is in three weeks and will be a long one - a 2 month deployment.  I pray that I am given the strength to teach Adina the best coping strategies and to help her through the experience while maintaining a positive association with it all.

While Ze'ev is still too young to understand this all on an intellectual level, he is just getting old enough to feel the emotions of Aba's absence.  He knows Yoni a lot better now than he did at the last deployment (when Ze'ev was only 6 months).  I think it will be confusing for him, but probably not quite as difficult as it will be when he's older.  He still doesn't get it quite yet.  When we Skype, he reaches his arms out to the computer and gets frustrated he can't reach Aba, but doesn't know what that means.

Things don't always go as planned... or do they?

So in my last post, I was so excited because not only was I getting sleep, but life was returning to routine and I was able to delve into creativity.  Well, since then, in the past month or so, I have had maybe 1 hour of normal routine.  Ok, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but things have truly been abnormally unusual.  I just wrote a journal entry in my personal journal and it took me about a page to spell out all of the unusual circumstances of the past month, but suffice it to say that between sickness and other medical issues and even poor Libby got a UTI, at least one or two things have occurred every week.

So then this weekend, we were supposed to escape it all.  My parents were going to come for the long weekend.  We would have a nice relaxing Shabbat with them, and then Saturday night, on our anniversary, Yoni and I would go downtown and have a whole day kid-free to be tourists in the city where we have lived a year and have yet to explore.

Then Wednesday, I got a call from Dad that Mom woke up with a frozen knee and needed to have surgery on Friday (Thank G-d, surgery went well and she's currently recovering).  Obviously that meant that they could not fly here on Thursday for the weekend.  Ok, so Yoni and I would just have a quiet, relaxing anniversary at home.

Then Thursday Yoni called around 9:30.  "I have good news and bad news.  Which do you want first?"  "Bad news," I said.  He continued, "Bad news is I have to leave tomorrow morning at 3 AM for a trip.  Good news is I get to come home today right after lunch."

At this point, I was so used to things going contrary to my plans that I really didn't even blink an eye.  "Ok," I said, "Let me know what time you'll be home.  I love you, I'll see you soon."

This wasn't quite my plan of how I thought the weekend would go.  But obviously it was the way things had been Planned all along.  I saw that even more clearly Friday afternoon when I started getting a cold.  I realized that after these crazy few weeks, my body is run down.  My immune system is shot and what I really needed was some good R and R.  So instead of a full house, Hashem arranged for me to have a quiet, stress-free, people free Shabbat.  I was in bed at 9 Friday night and got nine whole hours of sleep (for the first time in at least three weeks)!  Saturday morning, I still wasn't feeling great, so I napped when the kids napped in the afternoon.  I was starting to feel better so we went to the park in the afternoon, and then I got in bed early again on Saturday night.  Now, thank G-d, I am feeling like a new person!  Even if we have more curveballs thrown at us from Above this week, I am rested and refreshed and I can handle them now. :)

P. S.  On a lighter note, I have been having so much fun with Adina the past few days.  Her favorite word is "Already" and she uses it in almost every sentence.  Sometimes it makes a lot of sense, like, "I put on my shoes already."  Sometimes it makes absolutely no sense but sounds so cute and makes me crack up, like, "My underwear is dry already,"  or "Ze'ev woke up and we're dancing already."

Two worlds collide

A week and a half ago, Yoni and I (with the kids in tow) traveled to the opposite corner of the country. We went to Miami, Florida for five days! Despite the fact that Miami is quite a nice place to escape Seattle winter, we did not go for the weather. We went to attend the Aleph Institute annual conference and Shabbaton.

"The Aleph Institute is a not-for-profit national educational and humanitarian organization serving the unique needs of Jews in diverse and limited environments such as the military ... and everywhere they and their families can become isolated from their Jewish heritage."

The conference, which took place on Thursday and Friday, was a training and discussion forum for Orthodox Jewish chaplains and lay leaders. Yoni is a Jewish lay leader at JBLM (Joint Base Lewis McChord), so he participated in this training. There were a few programs for spouses, but I spent the majority of the days hanging out with the kids and the other spouses who came along.

On Friday, Yoni took over parenting for one hour as I participated in a life-changing meeting.
Ten frum military wives sat together in a room to discuss the challenges of this unique life. Being a religious Jew makes you a minority. Being a military wife makes you a minority. Being both is nearly unheard of! It almost brought me to tears as I sat in a room with so many other strong, inspirational women who all shared stories which are a direct reflection of my own feelings and my life.

I absolutely love living in the Jewish community here in Seattle. The support is wonderful and the friendships I have made brighten every day. Nevertheless, every single time Yoni is away I get lots of pity parties. There's a lot of "I don't know how you can do that." "I would never be able to do that." etc.
I know this comes from a good place, but the truth is, I don't know exactly how I do it either. If you had asked me two years ago if I would have been able to parent two young children on my own for weeks at a time, I would have said of course not! But Hashem only gives us what we can handle. Since this is the life we have been given, I know I must be able to handle it. And thank G-d, I do. The kids eat, they sleep, and we even have a little bit of fun in the process.

When I sat in a room with these other amazing women, I felt like the lot we've been given is a tremendous gift. One of the other more seasoned military wives told a story of home-schooling 5 children in a middle of nowhere town while her husband was deployed. Another explained how she had 4 school-age children when they lived in Germany. Over the summer, they brought a Jewish day camp to Germany simply so her kids could have somewhere to go.

Not only did these stories inspire me, but befriending these amazing women will prove invaluable. For the first time in years and years, I felt completely understood and belonging to a group of people.

In the military scene, we hang out with very nice people, but being observant Jews sets us apart. In the Jewish community, my friends all have husbands who work for Microsoft or learn at the kollel, or some other "local" job. I have a husband who leaves a few times a month to fly a plane around the world.

In this room, every single person had a life similar to mine. They all have a patriotic husband who is serving his country. They all live an observant Jewish life.

Feeling this camaraderie made us all recognize the importance of defining this group of women and creating some sort of "sisterhood" and support system. I volunteered to spearhead the initiative, so I am currently trying to locate each and every frum military wife that's out there. We are compiling everybody's information and then meeting with the Aleph Institute to determine the best course of action to take.

My ultimate goal, once we have firmly established the wive's group, is to create a kid's support system. My little vision is to have a "camp" for kids the same weekend as the conference and Shabbaton each year. The religious military kids could benefit from the same chizuk (strength) that all of us wives got from coming together and discussing our challenges and learning experiences.

With that, I'll leave you with a picture of Adina Rachel dancing with her shoes in her hands on our balcony overlooking Surfside Beach:

Together Again.

For seven weeks, the children and I traveled the breadth of the country, spending time with family and friends. Yoni had a 2 1/2 month deployment, and rather than stay home without him for such a long time, we decided to let the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins have a good time with the kiddos in Aba's absence. Being away from home actually made the time pass extremely quickly! Before I knew it, we flew back home with only a couple days left to await Yoni's return.

While he has gone on short trips before, this was the first time (in Adina's memory at least) that he has been away for a significant period of time. As an adult and a Mom, I quickly adapted and learned how to deal with his absence. I missed him and thanked G-d every day for Skype, but we went about our lives. One of the hardest things about him being gone was watching Adina miss her Aba. She is too young to understand where he went and why. She is too young to realize that his absence was finite, and with G-d's help he would be returning home soon. Thankfully, kids are resilient and distractable, so it didn't upset her constantly. But those moments when she saw his picture and reached out her arms, with all her heart, craving a hug from her Aba... those moments I will never forget.

And the day he came home, all day she sat in his arms. Each time she woke up from a nap or a good night's sleep, within two seconds of opening her door, I heard, "Aba huggie? Yea? Aba!"

There is so much to take away from this experience.

First of all, I love observing the purity in her emotions. As a two year-old, every single feeling in her little body comes out in action. Her hugs are filled with love. Her cries resonate a deep sadness.
As we grow up and mature out of this innocent "wear emotions on your sleeve" phase, sometimes emotions get too good at hiding. We are taught to act with proper decorum according to a given situation, and train ourselves to keep emotions on the inside.

From my daughter, I learn that it's ok to jump up and down when something is really exciting. It's ok to run and give a big hug to someone you haven't seen in a long time. It's ok to sit down and be sad if something is disappointing.

Maybe this very trait is why little children are so distractable. Once they have expressed the emotion, they can move on. It doesn't fester. I miss Aba. That makes me sad. But, oh - look at that fun slide over there - let's go play!

If as an adult, we allow ourselves to acknowledge and express each emotion, life could attain a beautiful balance...