Military Spouses Quotes

Military Wives—Sacrificing Months of Sex for the Country.

War is hell and waiting is hell and war is waiting.

Cherish Life and all of God's Blessings he sends your way!

An Army wife is probably the only woman in the world who knows and readily accepts that she is the mistress, because, let’s face it, the Army is the wife and the wife gets all the damn attention!

Soon I was weeping---for the reservists who put their entire lives on hold when called to duty, for the military mothers who had to keep their families together all alone, for the parents, spouses, sons, and daughters who were beset with worry, for Mike, and for the soldiers who would never come home. I only meant to buy a shower curtain, and now, quite unexpectedly, right when I least wanted it, months of pent-up loneliness, fear, and frustration were pouring out in an endless churn of hot, silent tears.

God loves to say yes to the prayers that echo His heart.

It’s the wide variation of women in our little shared petri dish that makes our lives never boring. Really all that we have in common is we each fell in love with a dude in uniform. The rest of it is a wild card. . . . Each of us trying to get through the day, the deployment, and the time in between.

If God really knows everything and He only wants what is best for me, then why do I fight being obedient?

I’m not gonna sugarcoat it; it’s downright not fun at times. Sometimes I am mad at the military, at Uncle Sam, even at regular citizens who don’t have a clue of the demands placed on our family.

The FRG … was the closest thing any of them had to family, this simulacrum of friendship, women suddenly thrown together in a time of duress, with no one to depend on but each other, all of them bereft and left behind in this dry expanse of central Texas, walled in by strip malls, chain restaurants, and highways that led to better places. Most of them had gotten used to making life for themselves without a husband, finding doctors and dentists and playgrounds, filling their cell phones with numbers and their calendars with playdates, and then the husbands would return and the Army would toss them all at some other base in the middle of nowhere to begin again.

As an active-duty spouse, my role is to help lessen that divide between civilian and military by relaying my story. My story isn't better or worse than the soldier's narrative. It's not tougher or more dramatic. My story is a window. I'm inviting you to look inside.

While I may be left-handed, I've yet to figure out that my spouse is always right!

Even in peacetime, a military man is deployed for long periods, leaving his spouse to take care of the children and their schooling, to pay the bills, to make sure the lawn is mowed and the oil in the car is changed, and to handle dozens of other tasks usually done by him. During wartime, always hanging over the military wife is the fear that her husband may be wounded or killed in combat.

I hadn't noticed until that moment that I'd been treated as a part of Cleve, rather than an individual human being with her own needs. I hadn't realized how much I needed someone to ask me if I was okay.

That night, I wrote in my journal, "He may kill me, but as long as I am a good wife to him, it's worth it. This is my job. I am serving my country.

Brittany was lonely. She'd had Dillon during Carson's first deployment, and when he returned, he didn't seem very interested in getting to know his son. Then, half a year later, he was gone again. The baby could walk now, and Brittany had gotten used to being a single mom. She would have to adjust her life to fit a husband into it again.

We'd become volatile, and we were afraid to tell anyone about it, both of us ashamed to admit that all the stress had unleashed monsters in us. We were supposed to be heroes. Or, at least, that's what everyone was calling us.

I understand now that the military relies on young spouses like me as cheap--sometimes free--labor. Military brass knows what to say to make young women think their labor is their duty.

What was it about the military that made us believe it was our duty to not only accept violence against our bodies but find pride in enduring it?

I was twenty years old, a military spouse, and now a caregiver.

It’s a sisterhood, being a military spouse.

but not in the way it is intended to be.3 For an example of a chain of unintended uses, let us start with Phase One, the computer. The mathematical discipline of combinatorics, here basic science, derived from propositional knowledge, led to the building of computers, or so the story goes. (And, of course, to remind the reader of cherry-picking, we need to take into account the body of theoretical knowledge that went nowhere.) But at first, nobody had an idea what to do with these enormous boxes full of circuits as they were cumbersome, expensive, and their applications were not too widespread, outside of database management, only good to process quantities of data. It is as if one needed to invent an application for the thrill of technology. Baby boomers will remember those mysterious punch cards. Then someone introduced the console to input with the aid of a screen monitor, using a keyboard. This led, of course, to word processing, and the computer took off because of its fitness to word processing, particularly with the microcomputer in the early 1980s. It was convenient, but not much more than that until some other unintended consequence came to be mixed into it. Now Phase Two, the Internet. It had been set up as a resilient military communication network device, developed by a research unit of the Department of Defense called DARPA and got a boost in the days when Ronald Reagan was obsessed with the Soviets. It was meant to allow the United States to survive a generalized military attack. Great idea, but add the personal computer plus Internet and we get social networks, broken marriages, a rise in nerdiness, the ability for a post-Soviet person with social difficulties to find a matching spouse. All that thanks to initial U.S. tax dollars (or rather budget deficit) during Reagan’s anti-Soviet crusade.

Any military person dying was a loss, even when that loss furthered a greater good. But with this fight for this planet all but decided, and any more deaths were just wasteful tragedies. Mothers, fathers, spouses, children . . . all would mourn needlessly lost lives.

Sometimes, when you’re a military wife, your friends become like spouses. They’re there for the good and bad times, hold you together when you’re falling apart,

In military families, the trained protector was forever protecting someone else. On the home front, crisis control rested squarely on the shoulders of the spouses, everything from broken bones to broken hearts, leaking water heaters to car repair.

We live in a world of instant gratification. A world that flies in the face of what we, as military spouses, are called to do. We are called to WAIT.

No matter which side of the border wins in the battlefield, precious lives are always lost in the process. And no amount of victory can bring those lives back – no amount of victory can wipe away the tears of a mother, a father or a spouse. What's the point of such victory that brings only destruction!

Thanks partly to his wife—who had grown up in Bath and was welcomed back warmly by people who had known her as a girl—the Kehoes quickly became integrated into the community social life. Nellie joined the Ladies’ Friday Afternoon Club, whose members took turns hosting weekly meetings. One typical session, held at the Kehoes’ home, began with Mrs. Lida Cushman delivering a talk on “Our Government Buildings.” She was followed by Mrs. Maude Detluff, who read a paper on “The Iron Industry.” Mrs. Edna Schoals then spoke on “The Effects of Strikes upon Mining,” after which Mrs. Shirley Harte “gave a description of Annapolis Military Academy and of Mt. Vernon.”3 Once a year, the club suspended its high-minded activities for the far more lighthearted event known as “Gentlemen’s Night,” attended by the members’ spouses and held at the community hall. At one of these, Andrew distinguished himself with his witty response to the humorous toast offered to “our husbands” by Mrs. Frank G. Smith, after which “the guests were invited to the upper floor of the hall, where they were treated to a very amusing play given by members of the club.”4