a debt of gratitude

There are a few phrases circulating throughout military senior leaders' speeches that have almost lost their meaning for me. "Train as you fight," "We need to nest our mission with higher," and "I would offer to you" all have begun to ring false in my ears as the leaders who use them often deviate wildly in action from their words, much to the harm of their subordinates and the organization. Perhaps a time will come when I can write about these experiences without bitterness or resentment. Today, however, I feel the overwhelming desire to redeem one such phrase: "we owe a debt of gratitude."

As I face the prospect of two more years in the Army, and the experience of deployed motherhood, there are days when I believe I can do it all with panache...and then there are days when I am tempted with despair. I have been fairly certain for most of my life that my true vocation lies outside the Army and in a high school class room. This keeps me looking for a light at the end of the tunnel during dark days, when the organizational culture that gives context to my task and purpose seems oppressive or futile. On brighter days, I believe that everything I do is contributing to some future endeavor, that nothing learned or experienced in uniform will go to waste.

In college I encountered the concept of Christian vocation, due to a project funded by the Lilly Endowment, expressed in the words of theologian Frederick Buechner: “Vocation is where your great joy meets the world's great need." These words rang true for me, and kindled a focused search for my personal calling. A combination of natural interest and ability, research and study, and the dire need in our educational system for good teachers have led me to conclude that teaching is my calling in the highest sense. I came into the Army both to finance that goal and to ensure that I would have experiences to draw from within my pedagogical practice. The privilege of serving my country and the joy being part of something bigger than myself were also motivators. The Army has not disappointed me in this, but the road has been fraught with disillusionment and burnout that I did not anticipate.

There was a time when my energy and enthusiasm for any task set before me were limitless, and I believed I could do "anything for two years." I used to say as much, varying the quantity of time by the commitments I faced. My boundless optimism seemed confirmed by performance evaluations and initial job satisfaction. By a severe kind of mercy, I reached total burnout during my third year of service, and this was strange because I had not yet gone to war. My frustration fed itself despite repeated attempts to reign in my angst, producing brutally candid--and at times disrespectful--communication with my superiors. Perhaps the most confusing was that my performance evaluations continued to glow with the highest praise. A part of me wanted them to lose confidence in me so that I wouldn't have to continue the sprint I'd begun as a bright-eyed lieutenant. If I couldn't have meaningful work in a synergistic command climate, I wanted to rest; to work like a mindless drone from 0600 to 1700 (from six to five) and go home. It was too painful to care about work I hated: I didn't want to be asked to lead special projects or put in any extra effort, since I had realized that a lack of boundaries at work had partly fueled my burnout. I both found the voice of advocacy for my troops and damaged their loyalty to the chain of command with my vocal feedback, and as I look back I wish I could erase the collateral damage of my learning process. 

Although the Army has currently embraced "resilience" as a watchword that nods at spiritual fitness as a factor, there has been little in the way of practical, functional advice of how to become resilient when all the odds seem against you. I find my best examples in my Soldiers and in my peers. The answers I sought for stress management, resiliency, and coping with authoritarian bosses are still emergent, but I am now grateful to have had the experience of burnout so young. I have the opportunity, in the context of Christian, family, and military community, to avoid the road to despair in future tough assignments. My next job promises to be sleepless and grueling, and I am unsure what the rewards will be while I am separated from my family. Of course, I want to do my part to ensure we all come home without violating rules of engagement, with our values and consciences intact. I want to help Afghans in a situation where it is increasingly unclear how we can have any lasting positive impact. I have few answers for how to tackle this next challenge, but there is the seed of something that I intend to cultivate more of: gratitude. I have this gut feeling that it might be the antidote to despair. 

The insight came to me while listening to Dr. Andrew Weil on the radio, and because I believe that all truth is God's truth, it was easy to appropriate what a secular source had to say about gratitude. After all, "the skies proclaim God's handiwork," so why shouldn't neurochemistry and health research do te same? Dr. Weil's latest book called Spontaneous Happiness highlighted two concepts that are staggeringly Biblical: the first is that "happiness" in the modern sense of feeling elated all the time is a misnomer that is unsupported by millennia of human experience. Instead, Dr. Weil suggested, we should focus on contentment as our goal, because it is our choice in response to a myriad of circumstances. The second was the idea that the expression of gratitude has measurable positive effects on patient health. Dr. Weil reported drastic improvements in patients who kept a gratitude journal, for example. 

Scripture is replete with verses about thanksgiving, but this morning I need one that addresses two different visions I have--one is on the other side of deployment, a triumphant and energetic overcomer in that high school classroom of my future--the other, of a dusty deployment full of tired computer-screen-eyes and the presence of real human suffering, both Afghan and Coalition. This is what I found in Psalm 69:

 ²⁹ But as for me, afflicted and in pain—
   may your salvation, God, protect me.
 ³⁰ I will praise God’s name in song
   and glorify him with thanksgiving.
³¹ This will please the LORD more than an ox,
   more than a bull with its horns and hooves.
³² The poor will see and be glad—
   you who seek God, may your hearts live!
³³ The LORD hears the needy
   and does not despise his captive people.

What I immediately notice is that God is not like a capricious boss out to make a name for himself, but takes more pleasure in our songs of thanks than in our sacrifices. This assures me that while my blood, sweat and tears do not go unnoticed, the condition of my heart is the focal point for pleasing God. If I can recall this more often, perhaps I can avoid getting on the hamster-wheel of pleasing others through my hard work and accomplishments. If my work offerings to others are really just a way to give thanks to God, I might be able to renew my best energies rather than depleting them with little to show for it. What I notice next is that this burst of hope comes in the middle of a litany of corruption, societal vice, disillusionment and failed human relationships. The psalmist knows all too well what life in a fallen world is like. It is just possible that my deployment will be different than this, but it is likely that it will be a very mixed bag.

I have decided to explore how gratitude can inoculate me against the most toxic things I might experience. Today, I will focus on the fact that I will deploy with my sister, that my daughter is healthy, that my husband is my best friend, and that as he carries out the duties of full-time dad, he will enjoy the support of our family and friends, as well a Reserve job he loves while I am gone. I will be glad that I get paid to get back in (and stay!) in shape every morning, that there are always a handful of people to really enjoy working with in every organization, and that we are going to wear the more practical and comfortable MultiCam uniforms and not the stiff Army Combat Uniform we currently endure. Today, I will start a "Gratitude Wall," where among the mail I need to answer and the ink cartridges I need to recycle, I will write or add anything that makes me glad to be alive. I will go to the wall and meditate on something to add regularly, and any time I feel defeat at my shoulder. I will let nothing be too small a cause for thanksgiving. I will see if remembering that God is on the throne and that I have much more than I need to survive will lead to thriving in difficult places.