May the Sacrifice of Service Always Leave Us Grateful

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I don’t ever want to get used to this.

The sight of you walking away, gear in tow.

The way it leaves me breathless. Standing, watching with what feels the weight of the entire world on my shoulders. The weight that is my entire world.

My knees threaten to buckle at any minute. But I swallow hard, choking back the tears, refusing to let them fall. Readjust my stance into one of strength and confidence.

RELATED: To the Military Spouse

I’ve caught my breath long enough to realize little hands have now released my own. My gaze turns toward our children as they wipe away the tears they have lost the courage to fight. Because of this sight, their eyes fixed on that green bag. As the familiarity of this sight sets in once again.

Quickly I look back to catch one more sight, longing for closure that I know will never come until you’re in my arms again. Alive, well, and whole.

I despise this sight because I know it is the source of what is to come. I’ve seen it before, like a movie memorized word for word. The setting may have changed, the characters have developed and grown, but the plot is always painfully the same, and all too familiar. And what’s worse, it comes without the guarantee of a happy ending.

This sight brings sleepless nights, worry, and heartache. Because we’ve seen the way the movie has ended for those who have stood to the left and right of us as we gaze on. It has played out before us heartbreakingly in our living rooms, chapels, and communities.

In brilliant colors of red, white, and blue that shake us to the very core. We’ve watched as these ravishingly exquisite colors lined the highway overpasses in our hometowns, as a final welcome home. Cried as the signature colors of Lady Liberty adorned Harley Davidsons in a thunderous roar. Borne witness as they are eventually folded with unimaginable care to rest upon a bewildered lap. This sight makes us shutter, beg, plead, and pray that we will never be the one playing this lead, featured in this ending. The one of inconceivable sacrifice.

I never want to get used to this sight. I never want it to feel easy or normal.

I never want to discount the magnitude of this sight, the one where you walk away from us, into danger.

Freely, Bravely, Strongly with such heartbreak and pride.

RELATED: Those Damn Boots

May we never take the plethora of pain, wonder, terror, grit, and dignity of this sight for granted.

Because we remember those for whom it was the last one.

From a grateful nation, and the heart of this military spouse to all of our Gold Star families, “thank you” will never be enough. May you be comforted on this day as we honor your ultimate sacrifice. As we strive to carry the weight and responsibility of it well, as individuals, as a community, as a nation.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Erika Bradley

Hope is a military wife, advocate, volunteer, and non-profit founder of Dependa Strong. She encourages military spouses to be unapologetically transparent about their struggles while using kindness, self-care, and community involvement as a coping mechanism. She believes raising awareness, telling her community's stories, combined with kindness and compassion for one another can help bridge the gap between our service members and civilians.

My Mom Was Just 13 When I Was Born. Now That I’m a Mother, I See Her Differently.

In: Living

There are only 13 years and 11 months between us. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been—how lonely it must have felt at times. A childhood cut short, replaced with responsibilities that were night and day. Confusion and love, all wrapped into one. Growing up, it felt like I had a big sister beside me. A friend I loved with everything in me. But she wasn’t just a friend. She was my mother. I relied on her for guidance, for reassurance, for someone to look up to. And now I find myself wondering, how could she give me...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise. From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

In: Living

Grandmother, I never met you this side of Heaven, but I feel as though I have. Your pictures, scattered throughout my mother’s home, tell your story. Born to a woman who came to this country alone when she was just 16, you would be the youngest of four, with two sisters and a brother. Your short, dark, straight hair clings to your little face, a line of bangs neatly combed high on your forehead. You couldn’t be more than three years old as you sit on a stool at your sister’s First Holy Communion. The black and white photo makes...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading

My Dad Gave Us Something Money Never Could

In: Living

I was talking with my dad the other day about an upcoming Disney trip with our kids. I told him all we planned to do while we were there and how excited the kids were. He sat and listened, taking it all in. And then he said something that put a lump in my throat. “I’m so glad you’re able to give your kids the life that I couldn’t.” He went on to say he still carries some guilt–that he wishes he could have done more, taken us on trips, given us experiences he couldn’t. Hearing that broke my heart....

Keep Reading

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

In: Living, Marriage

The side of my husband who is hardest on himself usually shows up late at night. The house is quiet, the kids are finally asleep, and the day has done what it always does—taken everything it could from both of us. That’s usually when it comes out. The voice in his head that tells him he’s not doing enough as a father. Not present enough. Not patient enough. Not good enough. He doesn’t say it lightly. He says it like someone confessing a truth he wishes wasn’t true. Like he’s already measured himself against some invisible standard of fatherhood and...

Keep Reading

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

In: Living

The roles. The expectations. The unspoken, undefined rules. The hurt feelings no one wants to talk about. It could be a scene from an old Abbott and Costello routine: “Who’s on first?” Motherhood is rarely clear-cut. And if you’ve ever tried to navigate life alongside a stepmother—or as one—you know how quickly things can become complicated. Add a stepmother to the mix, and suddenly it’s a relay race where no one’s quite sure who’s holding the baton, or if anyone wants it. This isn’t a story about winners and losers or choosing sides. It isn’t about who is right or...

Keep Reading

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

In: Living

The year is 2026: we’re inviting thousands of strangers to get ready with us, threatening our own deaths on a lot of different hills and, if you’re a millennial mom, determined to have a ’90s summer. Some top to-dos on the ’90s mom summer checklist? Lots of outside play, limited screens, less hustle, more simplicity. Overall, evoking the “carefree” summers of the 1990s. But did anyone ever ask the real ‘90s moms if summers back then were all we’re cracking them up to be? If my own memory serves me right, my parents talked a whole lot about summers in...

Keep Reading

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

In: Living, Marriage

He promised you a lifetime, a family, safety, and security. You carried life and brought it into this world for him. Even still, in the trenches of postpartum, he betrayed you. It was never your fault. This is something I’ve fought to tell myself every single day since the day I discovered my marriage was never meant to last. Because the truth is, betrayal is never about you; it’s about them, and the character flaws deep within they’d rather bury than face. He watched as you fought for your life after delivery while your tiny, premature newborn spent the first...

Keep Reading

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

Let Me Tell You About This Wild Child of Mine

Child

Let Me Tell You About This Wild Child of Mine

Home is My Sanctuary

Living

May the Sacrifice of Service Always Leave Us Grateful

Quickly I look back to catch one more sight, longing for closure that I know will never come until you’re in my arms again. Alive, well, and whole.

I never want to get used to this sight. I never want it to feel easy or normal.

Because we remember those for whom it was the last one.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Erika Bradley

My Mom Was Just 13 When I Was Born. Now That I’m a Mother, I See Her Differently.

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

My Dad Gave Us Something Money Never Could

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

May the Sacrifice of Service Always Leave Us Grateful

Quickly I look back to catch one more sight, longing for closure that I know will never come until you’re in my arms again. Alive, well, and whole.

I never want to get used to this sight. I never want it to feel easy or normal.

Because we remember those for whom it was the last one.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

My Mom Was Just 13 When I Was Born. Now That I’m a Mother, I See Her Differently.

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

My Dad Gave Us Something Money Never Could

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like