Navy mom of five leaves for Iraq today

My friend and fellow Catholic homeschooling mom, Eileen, is headed to Iraq today. Eileen is married and mother of five young children. She's in the Naval Reserves and received training from the Army before she left. You can see my previous posting about her here.

She knew this was coming down, she said. But it was still upsetting to everyone when the date was finally announced. Nevertheless, her family and friends have risen to support her and her husband and parents will continue to homeschool the children while she's away, so mom can worry less about the kids and the kids can continue life as close to normal as possible.

I asked Eileen if I could post some of her own words about the Army training she's been receiving over the past month, in preparation for her departure. Here are some excerpts:

My first week I was in Port Hueneme, CA which is right next to Oxnard. It was not incredibly busy – mostly in-processing and medical and dental and a bunch of briefs. There were interesting moments like when I got fitted for my gas mask and chem suit and got to make sure they had a good seal by doing these weird breathing and moving exercises while inside a plastic bag. There were a bunch of really nice people that I met there who all came to Ft Jackson with me, so that is nice.

Then on Saturday we all flew to South Carolina by way of Chicago during a blizzard – love that Navy planning! Eventually we did arrive here and started to get settled. A buddy from the Naval Academy is here too, so that is great. I didn’t end up getting uniforms until Tuesday – TOTALLY annoying – so I spent the first day carrying around my weapons while wearing sweats. A very hot look, let me tell you. As you can see from my photo I have been issued both a 9mm (in the thigh holster) and an M-16. Both are “go to war weapons” for me so I actually will be taking them forward and I have to qualify on both. On Tuesday I also got issued my “Battle Rattle” which is about 65 pounds of body armor, a Kevlar helmet and knee and elbow pads. VERY comfortable. We are spending lots of quality time wearing them and loving every second of it. (In case you could not tell, that is sarcasm.) My shoulders are KILLING me and I am wiped out by the end of the day.

We have been doing a lot of shooting and that has been a blast. Literally. I realized that I had actually NEVER fired an M-16 before (at the Academy we had used M-14s to qualify with rifles). It is all going really well. I grouped and zeroed in 12 rounds which is the minimum (I realize that means nothing to most of you, but my military friends will be psyched). The 9MM is going even better if possible. I got scores of 238, 238 and 239 out of 240 on the regular range. (The 239 was actually kind of cool, because the one shot that wasn't in the 5 point area was a head shot that would have been right between the eyes. Not bad for a "miss." Kind of worth only getting 4 points for it!)

At the “stress range” where we had to run between shooting positions and lay on the ground in puddles or kneel or stand while out in the pouring rain. Plus a drill sergeant is yelling numbers in your ear to tell you which targets to shoot at in which order. I got 15, 18 and 18 on each of the 3 targets out of a possible of 18 on each one. Good to know that if necessary I can put rounds on target. I still have the low-light shooting on the 9MM and a bunch of M-16 stuff to go, but I am feeling pretty good about it. The 9MM shooting has all been in battle armor and I just can’t tell you how much fun it is to run around in that stuff, lay on the ground and try to get up and not to turtle while trying to reload. Good times. Then at the end we got to police all the brass out of the puddles. In the driving rain. While wearing 65 pounds of body armor. Really. As my friend Dean said, good to know that we made the right service selection when we chose the Navy over the Army.

But really, all in all it has been a lot of fun. We spent part of one day in the HEAT trainer which was almost like an amusement park ride. It is a pretend HMMV which rolls over and you get to unbuckle your seatbelt, land on your head, figure out how to open the door and then scramble out to take a “defensive position” surrounding it. Kind of like the helo dunk tank but not in the water while blindfolded. I thought it was pretty fun and REALLY a smart thing. I hope to never have to actually use the knowledge, but it was great to know the right way to do it. Then we got to drive around in regular HMMVs splashing around in puddles. That was really fun though I can’t see ever wanting to own a HUMMER – not exactly a cushy ride. They let us sit in every position so I got to drive and also ride in the turret.

I think that I am having more fun than most folks here. Probably my Pollyanna nature. It could be MUCH, MUCH worse. The drill sergeants are pretty great. They have all actually been deployed to the places we are going and they really know what they are doing. They know we have all already done some version of the boot camp thing so they’re not messing with us, just trying to get us ready for combat. All in all, it is not bad. I keep telling everyone that lots of rich businessmen pay good money to do these sorts of things. True they are probably not policing their own brass and at the end of the day they are most likely getting a rubdown from a Swedish masseuse, but still…

Hope this finds all of you well. Sorry I am not keeping in better touch, but by the end of the day I am truly wiped out and happy to have a hot shower and crash. I’ll update when I can, but know that I am thinking of all of you and am grateful for your thoughts and prayers. They are keeping me strong.

Much love,
Eileen

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Email of March 19, 2009:
Hi everyone!

Sorry that I haven't written in a while. My time at Ft Jackson came to a quick end and then I headed to Ft Bragg for a day and I got home on Friday night and haven't really taken a breath since. Let me fill you in on the end of my training. I have to say it went well. Perhaps my expectations were SOOO low that anything would have been better, but I know that the point of it all was to give us the skills that we might (but hopefully won't) need to survive combat situations and come home to our families. With that end-goal in mind, how bad could it be?

The shooting just kept getting better and better. I ended up qualifying as a Sharpshooter on Rifle and an Expert on Pistol. I would have gotten expert on rifle but when the first target came up (50m, left) I had neglected to take the weapon off of safe. Once I had remedied that situation with a few choice words the target had dropped already. And that was the difference... Oh well, perhaps another time. I would love to be able to shoot it without the body armor on. Not only do I look like a Teenage Mutant Turtle (my husband's description) but the back of the vest shoves into the Kevlar helmet forcing it over my eyes. It took a lot of adjusting plus a washcloth shoved into the top to get it wear I can see while in the prone (lying down) position. One of our drill sergeants, SGT Jenkins said, "You know, ma'am, if the Navy were smart, they'd send you to sniper school. You've got a gift, ma'am." (This was said in a crazy strong Southern accent - I believe it is a requirement to be a drill sgt - and was intended to be high praise indeed.

Frankly I could see the appeal - much better to shoot someone from 1000m while perched safely on a rooftop then at 20m with my 9mm. But I digress...) They all called me "Killer Mom" and found it very amusing that in my real life I am a homeschooling mother of 5. To be fair I find it somewhat amusing also.

One of the days we also got to shoot on the Heavy Weapons Range - an M249 SAW, an M240 and a 50cal. Very very very fun. Plus, in addition to all the regular shooting at the range we did a reflexive fire course with the M16 where you pivot left 90 degrees, right 90 degrees or 180 degrees before engaging the target. Very fun.

And we also did the stress shoot for the M16. In my last email I described our M9 stress shoot which involved running around shooting at targets while in different positions in the pouring rain and wearing our body armor. This was similar but different. We were in body armor again only it was a hot sunny day so that was different. They had us sit in a HMMWV, and then jump out, run to the range, load a magazine, run to 3 different positions and then shoot at targets while in different positions (standing, squatting, kneeling and prone). And they were yelling at us the whole time. The idea was to try to simulate some of the stress of combat. It was pretty fun and you would be surprised how fast one can move while wearing all that weight. It was so much fun that my buddy Geoff actually got in line and did it a second time. That night we did the low-light shoot with the M9. Once it got to be dusk we ran back through a target shoot with the 9mm to see how that was. Again, pretty fun.

And then the last few days went even faster. We did preparations for our convoy operations, learning about IEDs and EFPs and things of that nature. Reviewed our combat first aid training. Tuesday got a lot crammed into it because the big rotator (usually scheduled for Thursday night which takes most of our crew to Kuwait) got rescheduled for Wednesday so everything got moved around. We practiced room clearing, learned about checkpoints and played with big vehicles. Plus we did a pretend convoy which of course had every possible bad thing happen to it. Good times. I got to be a vehicle commander. I had hoped to be a gunner, but so it goes. Manning the radio and bossing people around is not actually unlike my normal life. The last day was all about weapons turn in and cleaning rooms and writing after action reports.

It is great to be here spending time with the family. It is all going much too fast. Hard to believe that I have less than two weeks now until I leave for a long time. Still, with as fast as all of that passed and as fast as this time is passing I know that the year will fly by. I really don't know how much I'll be able to write once I leave Denver. I'll do the best that I can, but in the interim know that you all are in my thoughts and prayers. Thanks for any and all replies that you have sent. I'm sorry that it is hard to find the time to respond but they always make me smile and are much appreciated. Write as much and as often as you want. If I don't write back it is because I am CRAZY busy - not because I don't care.

Lots of love to you all,
Eileen

The Race: My Conversion Story

…Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

My conversion story begins with my first remembrance of God, when I was about 8. But my conversion is still ongoing. I’m still running my race. I’m still struggling to live the Christian life and still hoping for the ultimate prize: eternity with Jesus in Heaven.

When I was quite young, my parents decided it was time to take me to church. I have vague memories of other young children in the Sunday School and sitting on the hard, highly polished wooden pews while my parents sang hymns and being very bored during the sermons. But I loved Sunday School and I especially loved hearing the stories about how much God loved me. I remember the grand, white church, Wellshire Presbyterian, which still stands on Colorado Boulevard in Denver, in a posh neighborhood next to a golf course. I don’t know if any of my grandparents attended church on a regular basis. Religion was not a topic in our house, but my parents taught me not to lie, cheat or steal and to be kind to others.

I loved going to Sunday school. The teacher told us we would get our own Bible if we attended for a set number of Sundays. Since I am a very goal-oriented person, I was up for the challenge. I think we had to attend for a minimum of 8 weeks in order to get a Bible. I still have my first Bible, inscribed to me on October 3, 1971, from Wellshire Presbyterian Church. I think my family stopped attending that church shortly afterwards, but the seed of faith had been planted in my heart and I started praying to Jesus, as our Sunday school teacher had taught us. She told us there was nothing we could do to separate us from the love of God and that if we confessed our sins to Him and asked Him to come and live in our hearts, He would. I followed her advice and from that moment on, my life was His.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

When I was about 10 years old, we moved from Denver to a small town in southern Colorado. Around the age of 13, I began going to church on my own. I was able to walk or ride my bike or catch a ride with friends. I chose a church that was a combined Presbyterian and Methodist church because I figured I was Presbyterian. I especially enjoyed going to the youth group meetings in the evenings where we learned more about the Bible and I heard a youth leader talk about a personal God who had a plan for my life. I remember that as an epiphany in my life. Not only was God a God who would save me from my sins, but He also cared enough for me to have a plan for my whole life!

In high school I excelled at academics and sports and I asked God fervently to show me the path He had for me. I was growing restless to leave the small town where we lived and to see the wonders of the world He made. I had a strong desire to serve my country in gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy. For these reasons, I applied to and was granted an appointment to the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. It was about as different a place as I could imagine from the small, isolated town in a remote valley in southern Colorado.

I arrived full of hopes and dreams and a desire to know God better. After the initial summer training period, the academic year began and we had a few moments of free time. I was invited to attend a women’s Bible study sponsored by a Protestant para-church group. I accepted the invitation with eagerness. I spent that year growing in my faith by leaps and bounds. The mental, physical and academic challenges were far greater than I had ever imagined and I clung to God for dear life. He was my port in the storm.

…unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. (John 3:5)

During my second year at the academy, I did a topical Bible study on baptism. I kept reading about people who were baptized. Even Jesus was baptized. I became convinced that I needed to be baptized, so I sought out the Baptist chaplain, Capt. Larry Ellis. I figured Baptists must know something about baptism. He kindly asked my reasons for desiring baptism. My answers must have satisfied him, so we set a date for the great event; at my request, by total immersion. Since the Academy had no baptismal font large enough for an adult to be immersed, we decided to use one of the indoor swimming pools after hours. I invited about 20 close friends to come and witness my public declaration of faith. Chaplain Ellis and I both wore our white Navy uniforms, without the ribbons or shoulder boards. I wore my Navy issue swimsuit underneath. The chaplain and I stepped in the pool, and I was immersed three times while he intoned the ancient words: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…”

Fast forward to after graduation. I was stationed in Naples, Italy, as a communications officer for Naval activities in the Mediterranean, the Eastern Atlantic, the Red Sea and the land areas in and around them. In Naples I met a handsome young naval officer who was stationed at the submarine command. He and I met a few times and chatted, until one day he asked me out. I accepted and we soon became close friends. After only three weeks of dating, I felt strongly that this could be the guy. The only problem was, he was Catholic and I was most definitely a Bible believing Christian. Several of the people who led me in Bible studies had been Catholics who had left the Church because they believed the truth lay solely in the Bible and not with the Catholic Church. It all made perfect sense to me and I wanted to know how an otherwise intelligent and apparently God-fearing young man could believe such poppycock put out by the priests and popes of the Catholic Church and their “traditions of men.”

Joe very patiently tried to answer all my questions one by one, even when some of those questions sounded more like accusations. The smartest thing he did was when he didn’t know an answer to one of my questions, he would say, “Let’s go ask the Catholic chaplain.” As a result, we spent many hours conversing with the priest, asking questions, getting answers (and many books to read) and unbeknownst to us, beginning our marriage preparation classes. We sometimes would go to one of the Protestant Navy chaplains, just to compare answers, but somehow I ended up being more spiritually satisfied with the answers we received from the Catholic chaplain.

Since we were falling in love, Joe and I wanted to spend as much time together as possible. We were both standing watches at our separate commands, which meant long hours, often working through the night. As a result, we would try to go to church together. The base chapel had Protestant worship service followed by Catholic Mass. Joe would attend the Protestant service with me and I would stick around to attend Mass with him. People would sometimes give us funny looks as they were departing the Protestant service. “You’re not staying, are you?” their eyes would ask.

But we did stay and I was surprised to hear the same readings at the Catholic Mass that we heard at the Protestant service. I wondered why the Catholics were copying the Protestants, until Joe showed me the schedule for the cycle of readings the universal Church uses. I was mildly shocked to learn the Protestant chaplains were copying the Catholics! I never asked the Protestant chaplains, but since they shared office space with the Catholic priests, they probably saw the schedule of readings and thought, “That sounds like a pretty good idea--why reinvent the wheel?”

I began to wonder if there was anything else the Protestants might have copied from the Catholics.

I noticed more similarities between the liturgical Protestant service and the Catholic Mass. Four years of Protestant worship services at the Naval Academy with Chaplain Ellis, his daily communion service by intinction, Maundy Thursday washing of the feet, even Ash Wednesday service and Lenten meditations, helped prepare my heart for the Catholic liturgy.

The one aspect of Catholic devotional life that was most difficult for me to accept was devotion to Mary. I had been taught that God alone was sufficient for our needs and if we showed devotion to any other being it was idolatry. Of course, it never occurred to me that I had shown devotion to my own mother or other family members all my life, but this was perhaps the biggest obstacle for me in becoming Catholic.

After several months of attending dual Sunday services, I was getting tired of hearing the same readings, so I asked Joe if we could alternate Sundays; one Sunday at the Catholic Mass and one Sunday at the Protestant service. He said, “Nope.” I thought he was incredibly unbending and stubborn on this point, as he was on many others, such as not eating meat on Fridays in Lent, even if he was hungry and there was a tasty lasagne just sitting there that nobody was eating. Neither would he entertain my idea that we both just become Episcopalian, then he could further explore this idea of being a priest, which he told me he still thought of from time to time, and we could be married. He even had the temerity to laugh at that idea! Anyway, I decided he won this round and I stopped going to the Protestant service altogether because I would rather spend my Sundays with Joe. We went to Mass together every Sunday after that.

When it looked like we were seriously considering marriage and I was seriously considering becoming Catholic, I consulted my dear friend, Chaplain Ellis. He came into Naples when the aircraft carrier to which he was assigned pulled into port. I introduced him to Joe and he seemed to approve. I told him I was thinking of becoming a Catholic and he told me he thought that was a good idea. “It’s good for a husband and wife to share the same faith,” he told me. “And besides,” he said, “the Catholic Church has the Eucharist!”

Coming from the man who had the most devout communion service I’d ever attended, this meant a lot. Chaplain Ellis had daily communion services while he was senior chaplain at the Naval Academy. I didn’t go as often as I would have liked, but the few times I went, they made a big impression on me. Chaplain Ellis would explain the method of receiving communion was by intinction, the dipping of the host into the wine. It was then placed on the communicant’s tongue due to the fragility of the dipped host. And this was merely a symbol; it wasn’t even a consecrated host.

When we were engaged, I became aware of the tug at my heart by the Eucharist. I believed it was the actual Body and Blood of Christ, but I couldn’t fully comprehend the meaning of it all. The Eucharist was Jesus, but He couldn’t come to me yet. My favorite line of the Mass was, and still is, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.”

We were married in a Catholic wedding, but since I wasn’t yet Catholic and more than half of the people attending our wedding weren’t Catholic, we had the ceremony outside the Mass. The priest celebrated a private Mass for us earlier that day, with just Joe, my mother, father, sister and me in attendance. Joe and the priest were the only Catholics there.

Finally, on our honeymoon, I realized I couldn’t live without Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. We attended a Sunday evening folk Mass in Dublin, Ireland. The church was packed and it was standing room only. We got there too late to get a seat, but the usher motioned us to sit at the altar rail. Honestly, I can’t remember if we sat or knelt the entire Mass, but I have vivid memories of the moment the priest held the Eucharist up before me while I knelt at the altar rail. I wanted to receive Jesus that very moment, but it became clear to me that I couldn’t until I decided to give Him my whole heart and mind in acceptance of all the tenants of the Catholic Church, even the ones I couldn’t yet understand. I left the Mass in tears that night. Tears for the Jesus I couldn’t yet receive, but also tears in gratitude for the graces, which had been poured out on me that evening.

Nine months later our honeymoon baby was born. She was baptized and I made my first communion and was confirmed in the Catholic Church at the same Mass. It was Sunday, January 24, 1988. Years later I discovered January 24th is the Feast of St. Francis de Sales, who converted tens of thousands of Calvinists, i.e., Presbyterians, during his lifetime. Maybe he’s been watching over me all these years?

Jesus’ mother had been a stumbling block for me. She has become a quiet friend, advocate and mother to me now. She doesn’t overshadow her son, as I was afraid, but she points the way to Him. She tells us, “Do exactly as He tells you.” Now that I am a mother, Mary is an important part of my life. How can I deny one whom Jesus must have loved most devotedly? As our family has grown over the years, and there have been days when I felt overwhelmed, I would sometimes get angry with the Blessed Mother, or those who would recommend I look to her for guidance. How could I look to her for advice? After all, she had only one child and He was perfect! But Mary gave me the example of humility, obedience and love I must try to give my children.

After 21 years as a Catholic, I’m still learning my faith and I still struggle to follow the Blessed Mother’s example. I often fail miserably. Our children are beginning to venture into the adult world and I pray they make wise decisions and listen to God’s plan for their lives. Most of all, I pray we may finish the race and spend eternity together in heaven.

Military Mommy of Five Goes to Iraq

A friend of mine, a Naval Academy grad and Catholic homeschooling mom of five young children, is going to Iraq for a year.

"But can't they send someone else?" another friend said to me.

Yes, I'm sure they can. But we must not forget that duty, honor, country and making oaths, really matter. My friend has not forgotten. She serves her country because it is her duty and it is the honorable thing to do.

When someone is enlisted or commissioned into the armed forces they take an oath. Ours went something like this:

I, [name], do solemnly swear, that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

I know my friend is scared and she wants nothing more than to finish her time in Iraq as quickly as possible and to get home safe and sound to her family. She doesn't want to go to war any more than any of us do. But she knows that she has made a promise to God and her country to serve faithfully.

She's a reservist, which means she is used to being home with her kids, except for that one weekend a month and two weeks a year that she wears a uniform and serves her country. She will be activated in a few months and will then be carrying out her duties 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for approximately one calendar year.

She will be going in harms' way to help protect our country and our way of life, but also, to help our global neighbors live a better life and experience freedom and justice in a way that they hadn't previously been able to experience. She goes to help prevent another terrorist attack like the one on September 11, 2001 that claimed nearly three thousand lives.

She risks her own freedom, happiness, and security, and that of her family, in order to carry out her duty. She risks leaving her youngest child, not yet 2 years old, that he might not recognize her when she returns.

Her husband and parents will be carrying on without her and trying to keep a normal routine while mom's away. They'll be homeschooling her kids and taking them to Mass and to family reunions and birthday parties and soccer games and piano recitals. And they'll be counting the days until Mom returns.

Please remember Eileen and her family in your prayers.

Some things my grandchildren might like to know about me

Things I wanted to be when I grew up:

1. a penguin (I was only 4 or 5 at the time).

2. a Hawaiian (but my mom told me you actually had to be born one, which I found grossly unfair and totally against the attitude of the '70's which said women could be anything they wanted to be...I was about 6 or 7)

3. a nurse

4. a teacher

5. a U.S. Naval Officer

6. an astronaut

7. a writer

Things I have done:

1. I wore combat boots--on several occasions--most notably for a week during the summer of 1984, when, as a second-class midshipman, we had our U.S. Marine Corps indoctrination introduction. I also got to fire an M-16, a grenade launcher, and a machine gun; sit in the co-pilot seat of a helicopter (sorry, I can't remember what kind...but it had a distinctly Vietnam sort of feel as we flew low over the trees of northern Virginia), and paint my face with camo-green grease paint. After a night of war games in the woods of Virginia, we came back to the barracks and picked the ticks off. There were hundreds. Yes, hundreds.

2. Flew upside-down in a T-2 in Pensacola, Florida. Decided I didn't want to fly for a living.

3. Sailed on a 98-foot yacht from Annapolis, Maryland, to Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada and visited several ports of call, including New York City. While underway, in heavy seas, with 95% of the crew seasick, we had a fire at sea.

4. Sang back-up for Donna Summer (with the U.S. Naval Academy Women's Glee Club) at Pres. Reagan's 1985 Inaugaration Gala. Backstage, Lou Rawls told us, "Ya'll sounded real good;" Crystal Gale told us we looked "pretty" in our formal dinner dress uniforms; and Dean Martin winked at me. (Okay, I admit he winked at a lot of young ladies that evening). Oh, and Frank Sinatra sang with a glass of scotch in his hand and Tom Selleck was holding hands with his lady friend while all of us gals were desperately trying to catch his eye.

5. Shook President Ronald Reagan's hand when I received my Baccalaureate degree, May 1985.

6. I met Diego Maradona when I lived in Naples, Italy.

7. I have been mistaken for a prostitute. (In Naples, Italy).

8. Although I've never been arrested, I did have a police officer shine a flashlight in my face once and say, "You look familiar. Have you ever been arrested?"

9. My dh and I appeared on the Maury Povich show. (When Philosopher-Mom was deemed too smart, she gave them my name, I was phone-interviewed and deemed ditsy enough for the show). The topic of the show was, "Childfree by Choice," and we were the freaks with FIVE children! (Addendum: Also on the show was, Ben Wattenberg, who displayed great class in congratulating us on our five kids and he inscribed a copy of his book, The Birth Dearth, to us: "To Debbie and Joe...who are doing their part...with high regard, Ben Wattenberg, NY/NY 11/93.")

10. I once considered changing my name to "Aurora Borealis." *

Things I have eaten:

1. rattlesnake

2. Rocky Mountain oysters

3. alligator

4. frog legs

5. horse

Jobs I have actually had:

1. Youth Conservation Corps youth worker--2 summers

2. midshipman

3. 45 caliber pistol instructor

4. communications watch officer

5. telephone officer (liason with the Italian telephone company)

6. celebration of the bicentennial of the US Constitution coordinator

7. security officer

8. crisis pregnancy volunteer

9. Girl Scout leader

10. homeschool mom

* O.K. Not really. That one was supposed to be a joke. But I do think it's a pretty cool name.