MY LITTLE BROTHER IS A MAN

I got to hang out with my brother the other day. For most people, hanging out with a sibling is a normal occurrence and typically does not deserve any sort of abnormal attention. For my brother and me, however, this was a rare occasion.

Growing up, my brother and I hated each other – and I mean we HAAAATED each other! We fought and yelled and pinched and hit and cried and screamed and bled and I, to this day, still apologize to my mother for all of the stress that we caused. We were awful kids.

Two years and three days separated us; I am now 30 and Josh is 28. We have both emerged from the large city of Tampa, Florida, the suburban Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and small town of Salem, Ohio, to travel the world. Ten years ago my brother joined the U.S. Marine Corps. He left home as a troubled teen with no motivation, a very short temper and absolutely no thought for consequences to any action.

In a structured environment where orders were always followed, my brother went from being a scattered, Attention Deficit Hyperactive kid to a thoughtful, orderly, man who now wants to care for his family and literally repay his mother for the damage he caused throughout those 18 years.

We haven’t seen each other much in the last decade. When we did see each other, typically over holidays, we weren’t always nice to each other. I continued to play the big sister / I-am-another-mother-to-you role by lecturing him about any misjudgments.

Yesterday was weird for us. We hung out. We talked. We didn’t argue or get angry at one another. We had a family outing and we paid without fighting over who was going to pay for what.

I was excited to see my brother for the first time in just over two and a half years but I also had a bit of a cautious mind. Someone recently had asked about my relationship with my brother and I admitted that we didn’t really have one. We talk a few times a year, usually over some sort of instant messenger or e-mail. We only see each other once every few years and we never fully get along.

When I picked up my brother Monday, I was not surprised he was still sleeping. I mean, we arranged a time, I gave him an extra 15 minutes and I called him to say I was on my way. “Have you showered?” I asked. “No.” Yeah…same kid. “Go ahead. I’ll wait,” I said and I plopped myself on the living room couch.

We drove back into Salem and made our first stop at the best coffee shop in town to see the owners, who have a great admiration for my brother. They opened the shop just before he enrolled in the military and they have watched him grow just like the rest of us. They were excited to know he was coming to town. They were also MIA when we arrived.

We got some coffee anyway and chatted for a little while before walking around town. Throughout the day I just kept looking at my brother. He sounded differently, both the deep, scratchy tone in his voice and the language that he used – words about planning for his future, career paths, being scared of civilian life.

He looked a bit different, too. He had the same muscular physique that he had obtained while in the military but his facial features were more angular and he looked older than I remembered. His persona and his quirks were still apparent but I thought to myself:

My little brother is a man. This is weird.

Josh has about a month left in the military. After 10 years, he is about to be done and he has no idea what he is going to do. He does have a few ideas for college and he has an interest in an area police unit but he has not yet taken any steps to pursue any of his four defined options.

At 28, my brother will be learning how to find a place to live, budget, pay rent and expenses, shop for groceries and obtain a drivers license, which he never needed because he was stationed overseas for most of his 10 years.

“I’m really scared,” he confessed. “I am going to lose the structure and I don’t know how I am going to function in civilian life.” Hearing him say those words broke my heart and, at the same time, made me proud because I heard him say out loud the fears that have been in my mind for so long. The military provided a way for him to succeed. He became a leader and a teacher. He had a reporting structure and consequences for his actions, both good and bad. He had meals provided and a solid abode, though not the prettiest.

Because of my brother’s behavioral and learning disabilities, he needed firm structure and discipline in order to succeed and he found that in the Corps. Now that the Corps is no longer an option, he is craving some sort of structure. Once out of the military, he would be on his own. We hope to find an organization specializing in assisting troops assimilate. If you have any suggestions or recommendations, please post them in the comments below.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO KNOW THE DESTINATION TO FOLLOW GOD’S PLAN

In a world where everything is fast-paced, critical, controlling, precise and stringent, few these days know the true meaning of rest, even for two minutes. Prior to 2011, my life had been one of a type A person, needing to constantly be scheduled so that, God forbid, boredom would arise. Boredom, in my family, was heavily criticized – only stupid people get bored, my dad used to say.

I first learned what burnout was in high school, though I did not yet know the official term. At one point in time, I was involved in school, after-school clubs, the track team, community theater and, my senior year, taking college courses. When I got home from school, I would crash, sleep until dinner time and then do my homework before bed.

College is supposed to make people smarter but they didn’t have any classes on how to avoid burnout. I again scheduled just as much into my social life as I had in my curricula and overloaded myself so badly senior year that I didn’t write my 15-page capstone project (which I had known about for 2.5 years) until the night before my presentation. I did not get an A; I did not deserve an A. I missed appointments and let down my sorority sisters when I accidentally double and sometimes triple booked myself. This happened on more than a couple occasions. Time management was not my strong point until later in my career.

Working in an environment where assignments were to be completed right now and perfection was always assumed, I, again, overloaded myself in two of my three career choices. In every instance, I would choose overworking myself over seeming like a failure and not being able to complete an assignment. Every time.

Living in Singapore in a time when having a paying job wasn’t always an option gave me an opportunity to rest, whether I wanted to or not. I had time to think about where I was in life and where I thought I should be. I had time to make friends, enjoy coffee, read books, watch endless episodes of Castle and explore a part of the world I never thought I would see.

In addition to my physical rest, through my time in the amazing New Creation Church, I learned about the importance of resting beyond the physical, resting one’s mind and spirit, and trusting that – no matter what the situation – God has it all figured out.

When Jesus died on the cross, He uttered the words, “It is finished.” Now, I have learned that those words mean that God poured out all of his anger toward mankind, sin and everything negative in the world upon Jesus. The wrath of God fell upon His Son, who was also at the time bearing every sickness, every pain, every disease and every infliction that has ever and will ever harm any human being. Because of that, none of us has to go through what He already went through, praise Jesus. When Jesus said, “It is finished,” he was saying that he, in that moment, paid the price for all of our sins, granting us a great life of wonder in heaven. The heaven part and dying for our sins I knew growing up, but I never understood that act in the depth in which I do today.

What I have also learned about that declaration is that that moment is also a reminder that God’s work is finished – His plan for our life is finished and we are just along for the ride, trying to figure out his plan day by day. One of the hardest things I have learned in the last two years is the true meaning of doing nothing – resting in God’s finished work. On my way home from work last week, I heard a radio clip of a man saying, “You don’t have to know the destination in order to follow God’s plan,” and I thought, “Yeah, that sounds like my life this year.”

In late January, my husband turned down an offer to renew his two-year contract flying a jet for one of Singapore’s many millionaires. He had his reasons for declining, even after a decent counter offer, and part of that decision was knowing that this path was not Paul’s destination. He turned down a job offer without having another job lined up, knowing that we would be forced to leave Singapore in early April after the contract concluded and likely move in with his parents until we were presented another opportunity.

Fortunately, we know we are blessed and we knew there was a plan in place – we just had to wait for directions. In late March, Paul was presented with an opportunity to fly a government leader in another far away land. Since his contract signing, we have been told we could live in Singapore, Australia or Papua New Guinea and that one day someone would tell us. We went more than three months to hear where and when we would be moving.

In that time, Paul went to training and began work. I helped family and managed to have a little fun in the process, working very hard for my food at the family restaurant.

We do not yet know our final destination but I anticipate many more moves in our future. Follow along as we spend the next three years finding a new home or three. 

PAUL IS IN PNG

Paul landed in Papua New Guinea an hour and a half ago after flying his first official flights in the PNG government’s Falcon 900. After closing down the airplane and heading to the hotel, he gave me a call before heading to bed.

“I am having a ‘What the hell did I just do’ moment,” he said as he was explaining the state of his living situation and how he had to buy his own bottled water because the hotel where he is staying did not provide any.

“It’s OK,” I reassured him. “I had that thought when we moved to Singapore and then I got over it in about five minutes.”

We talked a bit about his living situation – he is in a hotel this evening that is different from the hotel where we stayed on our last visit. His more permanent housing has not yet been arranged because I am told the staff waited until Paul landed in PNG to really do anything.

Paul is accustomed to working in third-world countries. The biggest key, he says, is to just keep following up. According to Paul, the lower-paid workers work their butts off, doing whatever it is they are supposed to be doing for very little income. The higher-paid individuals who are supposed to be giving the orders seem to drop the ball all the time, leaving Paul or someone in his position to waste time and frustration calling twice a day until something happens.

The next week will be interesting as Paul sits in the land of seemingly non-existent Internet speeds. Our phone conversations are short because we are either cut off or there is such a lag that we get frustrated speaking over each other.

Paul’s next scheduled flight is a week away so he will need to find things to keep him busy. With slow internet speeds and not a lot of television options at the hotel, he might actually go crazy but we’ll see.

In the meantime, I am in Ohio, taking each day for it’s own. I have had some fun family experiences the last week including a family barbecue when it became clear just how not sporty I am and just how high a bottle of wine will spray if the cork gets jammed into the bottle’s belly as opposed to pulling the cork out the top.

We are just over a week away from Paul’s sister’s wedding. I didn’t think it was possible but Chelsy might be even more relaxed that I was. She’s doing really well.

Father’s Day is Sunday and I predict a day in pajamas watching lots of Duck Dynasty. A year ago, I had heard the term but I never really knew what it was. Was DD a video game? A cartoon like the Duck Tales adventures I had watched as a kid?

Turns out, Duck Dynasty is the hilarious life of Louisiana duck call makers who make working fun and not working even more entertaining. Our family has come together around the television like no other time before to watch the southern shenanigans of one very blessed family. 

THE LIFE OF A PILOT’S WIFE

Blessed does not begin to describe the life I have been afforded. I am more than blessed to have a great marriage, my perfect complement in my husband, the ability to live abroad, the opportunity to travel and the means to not stress about establishing myself in a well-paying career path.

The life of a pilot’s wife is one of strength, trust, flexibility, disappointment, understanding, unknowing, hair-pulling, complication and bliss. Every wife’s experience is different but there are some similarities based on the field.

It is important for any non-aviation members to know that the aviation industry is the most backwards industry on the planet and it takes a bit of time to get where we are. Take everything you know about business, people skills, education, best practices, human resource management and productivity levels, see where they are on a circle in your mind, then flip them 180 degrees, stomp on them and you will have the career path of a pilot.

Examples: A pilot must first teach others to fly before he or she can actually be paid to fly people. When a pilot is hired at any company, at any point in his or her career – no matter the age, experience level or aptitude – he or she is paid the lowest wage, is awarded the worst schedule and usually ends up commuting from another state. If a company realizes they have too many pilots, instead of evaluating employees on an individual basis, they lay off those who were most recently hired, with the intent on bringing back those pilots when the time is right, even if it takes 15 years. If a company is short on pilots, they lower the qualifications to bring in more inexperienced people.

From my experience with my husband and his friends, after spending hundreds and sometimes thousands of hours gaining experience and teaching others to fly, they aspire to be hired with a commercial carrier where they will be able to fly more hours, which is a qualifier in any pilot position. Since they will not have enough hours to qualify at a mainline company such as United or Delta, many young pilots begin flying with regional aircraft (a.k.a. the tiny planes with no overhead space and no more in-flight snacks and beverages).

When the hours are stacked and a position becomes available, some will choose to move on to larger aircraft at the parent companies or mainline carriers (a.k.a. the really big planes with not enough overhead space and no more free in-flight snacks and beverages). Some choose to fly corporate jets; others aspire to fly cargo aircraft, large and small. Paul’s dream job is flying for FedEx.

Paul taught, mentored, flew the regional commercial aircraft and then moved into private aviation. He was home every day when he instructed, he was home twoish days a week when he was flying commercially and he was home all the time as a corporate pilot. Paul has now moved from small cabin corporate jets into large cabin government flying. His first official flight is next week and today Paul began his journey back east.

In the last 64 days, I have seen my husband only 35 days and, at this time, I do not anticipate seeing him for at least another 45 days, but is just a guess. Since Paul’s job is traveling, he has left me many times before. He has left for hours or days at a time; on a rare occasion he has left for two or three weeks. This is the first time he has left me for such a long period of time.

Last night I was incredibly tired but, when it came time to call it a night, shut out the lights and go to sleep, I had an urge to not sleep. All I wanted to do was snuggle against Paul, talk to him, hold his hand, wrap his arms around me. I wanted to be awake so that I could experience his presence just a little longer. We awoke before the alarms and continued to talk and hold onto each other until the familiar annoyance sounded.

I drove Paul the short drive from our hotel to the airport at the dark hour of 4:30 a.m. I think I made him hug me three times and the last time was extra long. When Paul walked away from the vehicle and into the airport terminal this morning, I watched him with sadness because I realized I was saying good-bye indefinitely. My heart physically ached and my eyes welled with tears because it was almost as if I was watching Paul walk out of my life. I knew that I wasn't but it really felt like I was.

As I drove back to the hotel alone, in the dark, without an urge to actually figure out where I was going, I considered what it would feel like to be a military wife. If my heart ached in my chest and nearly caused me to stop breathing at the thought of not seeing my husband for up to two months, how much worse would it feel to know that my husband would be away for six months, a year or more, fighting for his life daily? How would it feel to know that I would be alone in my daily life events without even a chance of my husband being able to be there with me, no matter the circumstances?

Then I had a bit of a selfish thought as well. In the last few days, a lot of prayers and well wishes have been sent Paul’s way. Before we left town, Paul’s family prayed a blessing upon him. I had said a number of prayers throughout the last 48 hours, all for Paul’s safety, well-being, protection, adjustment to the new climate and time zone, ease of relationships in his new work environment, wisdom and knowledge upon him in the new aircraft – not once had I thought to pray for myself or have anyone else pray for me. This day was going to be a tough day and I needed all the help I could get.

Thankfully, I had a conversation with my friend, Megan, who agreed to send some prayers my direction. I had a bit of a down day and did not fulfill all of the things I set out to do, but I did survive, I did not cry more than five minutes at any of the 20 or so times tears appeared in my eyes and I did, somehow, manage to stay awake.

I am now in bed – alone. Sleeping for one is not as fun, nor is it comfortable…unless your name is Paul and you are flying Singapore Airlines’ business class.