Circles...

The Earth rotates... in circles... around itself... and around the sun... once a day, and once a year... and the people on it, they live in a cycle. Celebrating anniversaries... birthdays... commemorating the once a year events of their lives and the once in a lifetime events like tomorrow. 9/11. For some of us, however, some of those events, like 9/11, weigh so heavy on the heart that the new events and experiences that are added to our plates couldn't possibly erase the burdens of that tragic day.

How sad, that this world is riddled with bullshit, like politics... the lies and mudslinging of a presidential race. How embarrassing and childish, the things that come from our prospective "leaders'" mouths. The people that will someday be responsible for leading this GREAT NATION. How disrespectful we are to one another as a people... building our fences around the color of our skin and killing our neighbors for trespassing.

How we've forgotten, in just 15 very short years, the patriotism and love we felt for the blood that was shed on that horrific morning in 2001... and for the blood that has been shed since in the hunt for those responsible for those deadly attacks... Families have been destroyed, senselessly, needlessly, and for what? And why? Why do we continue to let other nations, and ourselves, tear this country apart? Have we become so selfish as a society that our greed and ignorance has finally gotten the better of us?

Have we forgotten this guy? The typical American worker who showed up for work that morning to make a living to support his family only to end up surrendering to his God because man had failed him? My God... what an icon. This man is any of us...

Have you forgotten? Have you let the events in today's society bury the pain and shock and sorrow that those unknown motherfuckers brought into your heart and home JUST 15 years ago? Have you become numb to the annual videos shown at the beginning of autumn... the ones showing the towers up in smoke, crumbling to the floor while people ran for their lives? Have you decided to look the other way because it's easier than feeling what you felt when it initially happened? If so... then shame on you. Shame on you for dropping that weight for others to carry. We are a nation... collectively, and EACH of us has a duty to love the person next to us and continue that patriotism that we all felt in the days and months that followed 9-11-01.

Look to your right, and to your left, and STOP tearing those people apart... hand out a hug... offer to carry a bag of groceries... buy someone's lunch... PAY IT FORWARD already... Do it in honor of those people who don't have the opportunity because they died at the hands of terrorism... on OUR turf... And for the love of God... take a moment and remember that morning. If you were alive and old enough to have lived through it - then you should NEVER, ever forget.

#IAm911

I have reached the very last day of the very first year as a 911 Dispatcher. I never dreamed something that I love this much would be this hard.

I had four phases of training, with each phase lasting anywhere from 4-6 weeks. The first phase was call taking. There's two types of calls - emergency and non emergency. Naturally, I live for the emergency calls. When the 911 lines ring, my heart races a little faster and the world falls away and it's just me and the unpredictable situation on the other end of the line. I won't lie... There are a LOT of butt dials that are quite disappointing... But there are a lot of emergencies as well...

2nd phase of training is known as "Channel 3." This is more of an administrative type position where we sit at a station and wait for officers to radio in and ask us to look in databases to see if people have warrants, or if their driver's license is valid or if they have valid registration and insurance on their vehicle. We can also look to see if a vehicle is reported stolen, or if kids are missing, etc. The biggest challenge is knowing where to look, and doing everything as fast as you can because officers only have a certain amount of time with a subject before they have to let them be on their way.

3rd phase of training is known as "Channel 1." This is the actual dispatching of police to calls. I reached my breaking point on New Years Day, 2016. I was working night shift and in the middle of training and I just couldn't do it. The responsibility was overwhelming. To know that there were calls from the public waiting on ME to send officers to them... and officers who were depending on ME to track them... to know where they were at all times... to send them backup when they needed it. I was having a hard time understanding what they were saying in their mumbled voices over the radio. I had 100 10-codes that I needed to know, and areas of town that I had to be familiar with.... but I got through it!

The final phase of training is known as "Fire." This is the actual dispatching of firemen and medics to their respective calls. For me, this wasn't quite as overwhelming as Channel 1, but there's still a lot of information you have to know. Like which units to send to which type of call. Additionally HOW MANY units to send... We also dispatch volunteer units for the county and we're required to know which units and how many respond to different areas of the county. Fortunately, with the help of CAD (Computer Aided Dispatch) we don't have to use our brain quite as much... the computer recommends which units to send, 95% of the time. But there have been a few times when our program wasn't working right and we needed to rely on our own knowledge (and each other) to choose the right units.

Just when I thought I'd reached the end of learning, we all had to learn a new software for dispatching. It's been a very difficult process, but one that we've all caught on to quite quickly.

THEN, I had an online course and a very important test to take in order to obtain my state telecommunicator's license. Done. And done!

All of the above, plus a schedule that constantly flipped from nights, to days, to evenings about every 2 weeks... and an additional 327.5 hours of overtime and.... I think I'm in it for the long haul! My 12 years of military service count toward my retirement with this agency, making me eligible in January 2023. I'd be stupid to walk away!

This job is everything that I was craving. It's not the predictable 8-5 that my life had become in the oilfield. I have an extreme sense of purpose. I'm doing something that not everyone can do. I show up to work 20-30 minutes early because I'm EAGER to be there and I love what I do. I've heard my coworkers mention how nice I am on the phone. I've got no reason not to be... Even the annoying callers (frequent flyers) are worth my time. As we remind ourselves so often, they're our job security.

I always have been a glutton for punishment... Becoming a 911 Dispatcher was the icing on the cake! I wouldn't have it any other way.

Very recently, a movement was started to have our profession reclassified from administrative/clerical to a protected class. We aren't paper pushers... We do our best to save lives, too.

                                          "I answered the phone when your nephew was hit by a car while riding his scooter in the street. I took the information necessary and listened as my coworkers dispatched units to your location. I heard the desperation in your voice when the paramedics weren't coming fast enough. I waited and prayed that your precious little boy would be ok. I hugged my daughter tight when she came home and told me that her 2nd grade classmate had died in a horrible accident." #IAm911

Hello, Goodbye...

I might already have a blog titled this, or something like it... not surprising. Life is filled with somber moments like these!

I'm sitting here tonight reflecting on my children's lives... there's a tug at my heart as my woman hormones zero in on the fact that it's the LAST night that I will ever have a 5 yr old that has never been to kindergarten.... it's the LAST night that I will ever have a 13 yr old who has yet to experience high school... because in just a few short hours, we will wake to alarm clocks and the rising sun, and I will kiss my freshman as she heads out the door to catch her bus... and I will walk my kindergartner and my 3rd grader down the street and hand them off to their teachers for another year of school.

I don't have baby fever. I really don't. But I do miss the days of footie pajamas and sippy cups, and the pat of a diapered butt in the middle of the night. I miss sticky cheerio fingers and ketchupped hair and the lyrics to Little Einsteins and The Wiggles are slowly being replaced with more modern ones like Roar, and Fight Song. Makeup and nail polish have replaced hairbows and bathtub crayons.

My eyes will linger a little longer on the refrigerator art... the squiggled stick figures and the handprint art that came from daycare last year... I'll smile each time I pass the preschool graduation pictures on the bookshelf... and I will still come home from work late at night and turn on the hall light and kiss each of them and smell their skin, and pet their sweet heads and whisper how much I love them into their sleeping ears, hoping they will hear me in their dreams.

Here's to a new year... new firsts, first lasts, last firsts... excitement and heartbreak... My heart goes out to the mommas out there! This is just one of the rough ones for me! (3 more to go until I'm crying about college tuition.) haha!

Another Birth...

I sit in somber silence today, grieving for a mother who lost her only son just 5 years ago. I'm digging deep for the right words to say, but I know that NO words will ease her pain. So rather, I choose to celebrate this moment by reflecting on my own losses... the ones who have traumatized me, torn me open from the inside, gutted me at times... left me hollow and broken.

I sound like a madwoman, don't I? Celebrating death... what right do I have to be happy that someone is gone? Compared to the alternative, knowing that they're no longer suffering is all the reason in the world that I need to embrace their departure (and subsequent birth) into the afterlife.

That's what it is, after all... Death... it's birth. Think about it. We were born into this life. Don't you ever wonder where we came from? What other world we were in before this? I smile at the possibilities... Mothers... think about when people crowded around you as you brought your babies into the world... surrounded in love to welcome this new life into your circle.

Fast forward to their departure... think of the people who surrounded them... in love. Selfishly, we grieve because we don't want to give them up - but that isn't our decision to make. God has called them to another life. So we love them as best we can, as much as we can, the only way we know how... and we hold their hand... and it's scary! We watch their physical body fall apart. We watch the trauma first hand as they travel through that birth canal into the new world... and when it's all said and done, we're left with nothing but the emotional reminder and empty place at the dinner table where they once sat... and for as long as we need, we grieve their absence - but eventually... hopefully... we can embrace the fact that they've moved to the next life, and they're waiting for us there.

Bon, not sure if you're reading this. My heart hurts for you, my friend. I know that you'll probably never reach that point... What you described at the end with Jed is far from anything any mother should ever, ever have to go through. The only thing I can think is, Jed fought hard not to leave his mommy... but still, God called him to the next life. I love you, friend... and I do thank God for Jed's journey... that little boy is the reason so many others have half a chance... he's the reason other's are able to smile while they fight. He's the reason this girl in Texas is so inspired and moved by his momma! I know I'm not the only one that has been touched by his 6 years!

"To live in the hearts we leave behind, is not to die..."

Full Circle

Growing up in Sonora, I never thought I'd leave that tiny town. The idea of growing up and moving away and living somewhere other than the only place I'd ever known was absolutely terrifying. It never occurred to me that there would come a day where I'd be without a father, or a mother... where I'd have to learn to wake myself for school at the age of 16... where I'd have to put myself to bed each night in an empty house... where I'd have to pay my own bills and feed myself... This was the beginning of a handful of endings that would piece together my life.

I moved on. Continuing to live was as simple as breathing. Like learning to walk, from a crawl... one second becomes a minute, becomes an hour, and so on.

I struggled, but eventually planted roots in Shreveport, LA. My first real job... the beginning of a career. Friends... new friends... friends from strangers that I'd met all on my own. New love... heartbreak... childbirth... old friends... goodbyes... retirements... bike rides and rainstorms and laughter and homesickness. Ohhh my heart broke when my Emily packed her house to move away. I knew when I hugged her goodbye that last time, that things would never be the same for us again. My best friend... my sister... my mentor... but still, I breathed, and life went on.

Then Germany... 6 years of blessings. Travel, a husband, more children, a larger family... deployments, and more travel and sunrises and sunsets and the gorgeous landscape and the castles and cathedrals and Turkey and Israel and Italy and our villa and bike rides on the country roads and the smell of cow manure and fireworks for New Years. In the 6+ years I was there, I never wanted to come back to Texas.... but I missed it. I missed Texas tremendously. I missed my hometown of Sonora. I missed the taste of the desert sand in my mouth. I missed the cactus and the mesquite trees and the sunset drives to count deer on the side of the road. I missed the crunch of yellow grass in the winter and the sweat drenched summer afternoons... I missed my MawMaw's house and big family holidays and my old high school friends.

When things went downhill with my military career, we made the decision to move home. It wasn't an easy one to make. For months, I drove every backroad around where we lived in Germany so I could memorize all of it. The smell of the wet roads in the forest... the trees. The hawks on the fence posts. Much like when I said goodbye to Emily, I knew when I left Germany that it would never be the same. I prepared for that traumatic farewell. I tried to, at least. It wasn't an easy preparation. I treated every day like a farewell... Last time on the B51... Last time on the B50. Last trip to the BX, commissary, Last day of work... last time I'll drive by the runway... last time I'll hear an F16 take off... last smell of jet fuel. Last time I'll wear this uniform. Last trip to France... last hug with the family. Even in the middle of all the farewells - I had my eyes set on home.

I write this from Texas. Sitting in the home we finally bought. Almost 8 months into a new job that I've fallen madly in love with.  It's been almost 4 years since we arrived home, and I think I'm getting closer to being able to say that I've come full circle. From not imagining ever being able to leave Sonora, to finally landing in a place that I'm ok with being. I miss the absolute HELL out of Europe. I see pictures of those good ol' days when the girls were babies and the holidays we spent with family there and my heart spills over into my eyes and I can't breathe because it hurts so bad. I MISS them. I miss EVERYTHING about Europe. I have, however, realized that even if I moved back, that I'd miss home. I'd miss Texas... the way I miss Emily. The way I miss Sonora. I am blessed to have ever had things in my life that I loved that much.

I will water these roots that I have planted... and I will watch whatever it is that unfolds... and I will miss the things that I loved - all while smiling at the marvelous memories they made! I will continue to breathe... to move forward... so that my children will have the opportunity to come to this same realization when their opportunity arises.