It was the final inning of the game and we were down by 2 runs. It was a hard fought battle – they were hitters, and the umpire seemed to be against us. We had two boys on base, and our “manchild” was up – he could hit homeruns into the next county. We were wound tight – this is it! And the pitch – high and inside – grazed the hand of our player leaving a cut and bruise. He winced, and started for first base. The umpire yells, “Where you goin’?!” and our guy replied, “It hit me.”
“No, son, it hit the bat. That’s a foul ball.” replied the ump. We came unglued. Chief comes out of the dugout to protest. Our side erupts in shouts. The umpire refuses to budge. “I heard it hit the bat,” he argues. He refuses to even look at the player’s hand. And all of a sudden – I couldn’t see. The Inner Grizzly emerged with a gutteral cry that came from where last Friday’s dinner was being digested. “HE HIT HIS HAND! HE HIT HIS HAND! HE HIT HIS HAND!”
The field was a blur, but I could still hear. And what I heard was, “Shut up and sit down before you get us tossed!” I whirled around and don’t remember what came from my mouth, but lost all control. She came back with another verbal blow to the gut. A sheet of red hot anger flashed before my eyes, when my girls intervened and I slowly sat down. And then, “You got somethin’ to say to me?! BRING IT!” Another wave of wrath shook me and I could feel my fists tighten. From the left I heard, “MOM! BETTER PERSON!” and it brought me back. I closed my mouth, shaking. At that point, I knew both the argument and the game were over. But the guilt started in…
How could a forty-something cop wife who had raised four kids, who’d written a book that talks about gratitude, patience, and self-control, just about come to blows at the call of an ump? I know better… I haven’t been like this since high school… I thought being a woman of faith and prayer was above this ghetto-like temptation? I’ve embarrassed my kids… I’m a fool… And on and on.
Have you been there?
Anger is a sleeping lion, crouching just beneath the surface, ready to devour those who dare to deny it’s existence. Just when we think we could never go there, we find ourselves wrapped in shame, picking up shell casings left by the verbal shootout. We must understand where the anger comes from, and what triggers it.
My triggers were fear, a sense of injustice, and then unkindness. I saw my boys’ hope of winning sectionals slipping through the fingers of the man in blue – fear. And then I witnessed Chief in a rare moment of strong protest and I felt like the umpire had truly been paid by the other team – injustice. And the final insult – unkindness. I wanted to rewind time. I wanted what my boys wanted. I wanted…
What are your triggers? What really makes you mad? We have to look at it, ugly as it is, and define it. Prepare for it. And if anger rares its ugly head, we must deal with its damage.
That night I apologized to my family. I laid justification aside and realized my anger got the best of me. I allowed myself to feel the embarrassment. For a time. But then, when the other mom reached out to me about the incident, I forgave her, apologized for my actions, and now feel at peace. We’re ready to move beyond the carnage, choosing to get along for the sake of our families and friends.
There will always be arguments in our lives. With our spouses, with our kids, our in-laws – the list goes on. Anger is an unfortunate reality, but it also shows we care deeply.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" July 18th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
Tags: anger, anger management, arguments, Marriage, police wives
Last night the Chief and I stumbled upon a show called The Great Escape. There were three teams that had to escape several levels of what they called a “labyrinth.” There were two couples and a team of brothers. While we watched with intrigue as they repelled out windows, evaded guards, hid in laundry trucks and searched for keys, there was a phenomenon that was growing old – quick.
The two women couldn’t keep their mouths shut.
As their husbands tried desperately to work under pressure, using their strength, brains and bravery and then helping their wives along, the two had one thing in common: they relentlessly nagged them every step of the way.
“The other teams are coming!”
“Why can’t you cut faster?!”
“What!? You just gonna leave me here?!”
“I told you they were coming…”
Nag, nag, nag. And it was ugly.
One husband just ignored his wife. The other shut down, at one point saying in response, “You’re not helping!” That couple had the lead, and ended up stuck at a level the rest of the game. They came in last.
It doesn’t take much to cut down, undermine, irritate, and simply drive our husbands to ignore us. We can render them inoperable with a few short syllables.
But it does take courage, self-control, and inner strength to build up.
I had a friend who’s mother didn’t have a positive word to say to anyone. Eventually others tuned her out and discarded her in their minds and attitudes – they just couldn’t take the negativity. Yet she was a beautiful and gifted lady who could throw a party you wouldn’t believe. She sang and played the piano amazingly. She had wonderful organizational skills. But when she died of bone cancer at a young age, her family struggled to remember positive stories of her life. Nothing funny, nothing good – only that at last she was at rest after such a horrible disease. They were relieved she was gone. What a shame.
When I think of her, I think of one word – unforgiveness. She had been hurt in her younger years and never got over it, never healed, never walked away free. Instead she built walls of protection around her, locking in fear with her. And it marred her family, her character, and ultimately overshadowed her best qualities.
The Great Escape was a good lesson for me to remember that my words can either hurt or heal. My words can tear down or build up. My words can render me pleasant to be around or drive others to be relieved that I’m gone. This week I will strive to keep it positive. Want to join me?
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" July 9th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
Tags: communication, Marriage, police wives
Somehow I’ve found myself all grown up. Career. Wrinkles. Younger ladies asking me for advice, because I’ve “been” there…
But truth be known, I’m like a kid in a candy store. I’m loving this new season in my life. And at times hating it. I’m energized and exhausted, excited and perplexed all at the same time. But there’s something else about this adventure I knew was coming, but just wasn’t prepared for.
It’s hard to juggle career and family and feel like you’re doing well at both.
According to some undiscerning critics, I hadn’t worked a day in my life until last fall. I quit my day job two weeks before my first child was born, and for 20 years, I became a full time mom. Had four children. Home-schooled them all for a grand total of 10 years. Married to a cop – which means that at times I felt like I was doing this single-handed. Not complaining, mind you. I loved it. And at times hated it. Was energized and exhausted, excited and perplexed, all at the same time.
Four children means pulling all-nighters a few days in a row. It’s being on call 24/7. It means you grow up and deal with whatever pops up that day – attitudes, various bodily functions that go awry, figuring out what to do when your 2-year-old throws a tantrum in the grocery line, and if your 11-year-old should have a cell phone or not. As a mother I gave up my right to my body, my right to be selfish, my right to sleep… And I suddenly developed an Inner Grizzly that came out whenever I sensed my children were threatened. Good thing I never carried a gun…
A perfectly planned day can in an instant be chaos, or hospital bound, or perhaps perched on the floor with a huge pile of Legos. Birthday parties were my highlights – themes, colors, cakes. Would you believe that I promised myself that I would bake every birthday cake from scratch? Yeah, well, that got scratched all right – on my firstborn’s second birthday! And for a time, I actually LIKED hot dogs…
Good years. Great kids. Amazing memories. And I’m not done yet. It’s just different.
Since I became an author, finding that balance between home and dream has been tough. We’re adjusting expectations. We’re having to fend for ourselves a bit more. I’m not doing every load of laundry anymore. Or cooking every meal. Or going to every baseball game. Or tucking in every night… sigh. And as of two weeks ago, four in the nest became three.
So, Moms. Whatever season you’re in, know that when you are the best mom you can be, your work is valuable. It may not seem like washing 21,348 dishes in the course of time means much. But it allows our families to live in a clean home. And every kiss goodnight may not be burned in our children’s memories, but they know stability and love. Our repetitious duties and chaos and unplanned days are an investment into the future of the greatest resource America has.
Our children.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I see your work. And it’s beautiful.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" May 11th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
I love uniforms.
Those pressed creases and shiny metal pins that shine in the sunlight. The mixed scent of leather and sweat. The creak of freshly polished shoes and the swish of the gunbelt as they head for duty. These senses bring comfort.
But those shiny pins represent a name, an oath, a determination. And that leather represents protection and that sweat reminds me there is a sacrifice. And those shoes carry that officer into some dark places. To protect you and me.
As May is here and departments across the nation are honoring those who’ve offered the ultimate sacrifice, I, too, want to pay tribute to not only those who have given all, but also to those who have sworn to protect, sworn to serve, and may still face the loss of their lives.
A simple thank you doesn’t seem enough…
They’re more than uniforms:
“To be a cop is to be many different occupations all at once. He/she has to be an athlete, a soldier, a scientist, a researcher, a paramedic, a NASCAR driver, a gun expert and marksman, a counselor, a chemist, a diplomat, a wrestler, a runner, a mechanic, a writer, and a lawyer. He must have a mother’s intuition, the nose of a bloodhound, the patience of a farmer, the compassion of Mother Teresa, and the tenacity of a 2-year-old. He must make peace out of chaos, comfort the anguished, discern criminal behavior from stupidity, and make split second decisions that may have life-altering consequences. He’s expected to be polite when verbally abused, keep people safe in dangerous situations, respect those who disrespect him, and understand the intentions of those who are misbehaving. He must constantly confront evil, and remain unsullied. He must be quick to respond, though sometimes the calls stack up. He must be able to speak police shorthand on radios that may be difficult to hear, especially when in heavy or fast-moving traffic. He is constantly second guessed on his actions, criticized for his demeanor, mocked for his diet and feared for his authority. He’s a threat, a target, a punisher, yet is a rescuer, a protector, and in some cases, a savior.
“Given these considerations, society’s expectations on our law enforcement are just short of impossible. But day to day, they report for duty, not knowing what the shift will offer. They put on their badges and try to do the best they can to fulfill the expectations of those they serve.” A CHiP on my Shoulder, pp. 76-77
Men and women of law enforcement, for all you are, we salute you.
For all you do, we respect you.
And for your willingness to serve and sacrifice, we thank you.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" May 2nd, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
Tags: agent, cops, deputy, fallen officers, law enforcement, police, sheriff
I braved torrential rains, flooded freeways, stupid drivers and yes, flat hair with the frizzies to visit a good friend in the hospital this morning. It was a celebration.
She wasn’t in an accident. She hasn’t been sick. She didn’t give birth to another son.
She gave away a kidney. To a total stranger. No, I’m not kidding.
It was a 14-month ordeal that she took on faith. Faith in the call God has had on her life. Faith that her kidney would go to the exact person who needed it. And it was a risk she was willing to take. For a stranger…
Several months ago, Deb had an aunt who was going downhill fast. She asked if there was anything she could do – and her cousin said, “Do you have an extra liver?” It got her to thinking. “No, but I do have an extra kidney.” Another family member was in renal failure at the time. She started looking into if she were an acceptable donor. In the process of dozens of tests, diets, complications and hiccups, the one whom she started the journey with in mind received a kidney from another donor. When asked if she wanted to be taken off the list, she thoughtfully declined.
“Someone out there still needs a kidney.”
Finally, news came that the recipient would be a young man about the age of her son. But then that fell through. The kidney would go to someone older than she. When she and her husband talked about this, they accepted it saying, “A life is a life.”
And so, with the support of her husband, boys, parents, siblings and friends, she had the surgery on Tuesday. It went off without a hitch for both of them.
So, what does Deb have through this experience besides a hole in her back? Better health because of the changes she had to make to her diet. A closer relationship with her husband, who’s been by her side the entire journey. The respect of her children and extended family and friends. But more than this, she owns the knowledge, honor and inner satisfaction that she sacrificed herself for someone else. Her kidney gave another person a second chance at life.
And I have to think that her husband is so supportive because he understands this in his core being. For he has been sacrificing himself for total strangers, too – as an officer.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" April 12th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
It was quite a spectacle. The word was spreading … there were very large, light-skinned and blonde people who were making their way through the baranguay (neighborhood) called Pleasant Hills. They were Americans! The people came to their windows, doors, and peered out, smiling and shaking hands, sometimes cautious, but mostly curious. The children began pouring out of all nooks and crannies, dancing, playing, teasing, eyes lit up with joy as they herded around the very big men and the blonde “ma’am.” The crowd grew bigger and louder as the Americans made their way through the baranguay, cats and roosters scurrying to scoot out of the way…
I was having the time of my life with these little ones, watching, learning, drinking in the not-so-pleasant smells and the way of life of these Filipino people. Their faces were dirty, their hands so tiny, but their playful voices were a delight. As I meandered through the uneven street that was barely a couple of meters wide, I looked up to see an open door with a thick screen in front. It was dark in the home beyond, but in the soft light from above I could make out the form of a beautiful young woman. She didn’t come out. She just stood there, tentative and shy. A little voice in my head whispered, “Do you see me?” and I stopped. I looked closer … her thin arm holding onto the door behind, ready to close for protection. I smiled, and she returned the favor. A lovely smile…
I see you…
There are so many areas of this world that are war torn, poverty-stricken, overrun with crime. But, if we’re really looking, really willing to see, there is beauty there. And value.
So much of my days are spent in busy mode – I’m in a hurry, I’ve got to get things done, I don’t have time to look into the faces of those around me – in the check out line, in the car next to me at the light, at the next table. I just ignore them as if they’re not even there.
What if we just took the time to find beauty in unlikely places? To slow down a bit, look into a stranger’s eyes, exchange a smile… I think we’d then begin to really see.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" April 2nd, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
I had myself a little reminder to slow down my driving a few months ago. Wrote the officer a poem to let him know that I learned my lesson. And yes, I’ve slowed down!
While on my way to Chico, passed a trucker doin’ 50
Radio on, singing loud, was a feelin’ jus’ nifty,
When all of sudden I see a red light
He made a quick U-turn, and my joy turned to fright!
To the shoulder I went, my hands started shaking,
Pass me by, I had hoped, but no, he was braking.
To my wallet I went, opened it up with a clatter,
He slowly strode up, to find out what was the matter.
“Do you know the limit?” he did ask me quite stern,
I guessed wrongly, sadly, and so it was my turn
To find my registration, license and insurance proof,
And boy, I was nervous, to tell you the truth!
I’m married to an officer, a warrior in blue,
And then he realized, “Oh, could it be true?
That the car he had clocked at a strong 74
Could be the wife of one he’d worked with before?”
And I, all embarrassed, and shaky and flustered,
Laughed nervously and then I sort of mustered,
“Please don’t mention this to a CHP crowd
I set the example, for cryin’ out loud!”
He told me to get on about my day,
And suggested that I slow down along the way,
He flashed me a grin, that dear man in blue,
And to him my pocketbook says a big thank you.
I give no excuses, a ticket I deserved,
But for me it was grace that he had reserved,
And a reminder to me as a police wife
55 is the rule – it could save my life.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" March 23rd, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
Tags: Law Enforcement Spouse, man in blue, police wife, police wives, speeding ticket
I’ve been gone a few weeks. I’ve flown halfway across the world to meet with thousands of Filipino police officers and their wives. It was a mind-blowing trip, one that has already enhanced my vision of what I’m aiming to accomplish through my book, blog, and beyond. In future posts, I will share some of the lessons I learned, observations that apply to us here in America.
My intention was to post many of my thoughts along the way – but frankly, the thoughts were too many as the trip progressed forward. Sometimes life comes too quickly, and the things we see and experience are just too big to process in the moment.
I flew home on a 14-hour flight with the Guys snoring on either side of me, trying to get comfortable in a seat that doesn’t recline far enough, my legs cramped up in a space too small for my comfort, and in my sleepless stupor I’m trying to figure out – what did I learn?
We touched down in San Francisco and thus started another whirlwind – hugs hello to Chief and the kiddos, hugs goodbye to eight new brothers, a very large double-double animal from In and Out (much appreciated and enjoyed), and spewing out random things I experienced. I don’t even remember the first two days home. But then I jumped into three birthday celebrations, a speaking thing, a book event and all while experiencing serious jet lag and missing Manila in a big way. And then strep throat hit.
Do you ever have times like this? When you can’t seem to come up for air? Seasons where it is one thing after another and it’s nothing short of chaos? Stop the world – I wanna get off! When your mind is on auto-pilot and your body is moving from one thing to the next? I KNOW you’ve been there… probably more times than you can count.
So, finally, I sit here pondering what to say, and I just have to take time to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. And I notice and relish the distant sound of the dryer (the third load this morning) and the sparrows that are chirping outside after several days of rain. Sigh…
Our lives as police wives (and regular wives, mothers – heck, as just plain women!) are full. It seems like we rush here and there, changing diapers, cooking, working, running uniforms to the dry cleaners, managing our homes, driving the kids to ballet and baseball…crossing off the proverbial to-do list. But sometimes it’s good to just be alone and ponder what we’re learning in the midst of it. What have we seen? Is it significant? What treasures am I thankful for? How am I making a difference in the lives that touch my own?
Perhaps you’re in a season of chaos right now. But when the moment comes, take some time and listen to the sparrows. It’s a beautiful thing.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" March 19th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
Tags: police wives
Como Esta from the Philippines! I’ve been here for three days now and I am already in love with the people here! I’m staying in a missionary guest house – and have had the privilege of meeting several missionaries and hearing about where they’re going and what they are doing. It has been quite an eye opener.
Today there seems to be a theme in the conversations that I’ve taken part in. It is about languages.
I learned this morning that it is quite a process to teach a tribe how to read and write. First, a missionary family enters the culture. They build a home, start relationships, and bring in resources such as medicine. They live within the culture to learn the language the natives speak, absorbing and accepting the culture as it is. At that point, they assign phonetic codes to the sounds the language creates. Following language guidelines and other nearby languages, the sounds are turned into readable words. The missionaries are then ready to teach the natives how to read and write their own language. Eventually, they are presented with a translated Bible and other books. Then a school is born. Once education is introduced, a whole new world of possibilities is available to the people. This process takes years of trial and error, careful methodical listening, and love and sacrifice on the part of the missionary family. I am amazed at the patience these people have to see the vision come to reality.
A little later I had a key conversation with one of The Guys. We were talking about how we communicate within marriage. During our talk, my mind kept returning to my lesson on languages. And there are quite a few similarities between what a missionary does in a new culture, and how we develop our marital language.
We get married and move into a home together. Then we start learning each other’s language as we communicate day to day: expectations based on the way we were brought up, pain, experiences that produce assumptions, how we process where each other are coming from, and how we naturally think as a man or woman. As we listen, we absorb and accept each other as we are. It is done through trial and error, and takes a lot of patience. We have to be students of each other, taking into consideration all of the things that make up our spouse, and tailor our communication to how our spouse can really understand. We can learn each other’s language – but it takes years of careful, methodical listening, and love and practice.
Once we learn to speak each other’s language, a whole new world of possibility opens up for us as couples. Communication gets easier as you practice speaking in each other’s language. Your understanding grows for each other, and there is less hurt. And there’s greater peace because you eventually don’t have to try so hard.
Stay tuned for other lessons learned from our friends in the Philippines!
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" February 20th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
This morning I packed my things and left. With my husband. To the airport. Where he transferred my care and safety to eight other men, most of whom are police officers. We are headed for the Philippines.
For the next two weeks, eight men and I are taking the Courageous movie to members of the Filipino military and law enforcement and their wives. We will make connections, talk about family values, God, and provide resources for their families, one of which is my book, A CHiP on my Shoulder.
Today is a travel day – looonnnng. But one very cool break we took this afternoon was to visit the VA Cemetery in San Francisco. We took communion by breaking a loaf of bread and drinking red juice from dixie cups, the Guys and I. We then went our separate ways through the cemetery, reading white, uniform headstones, contemplating the sacrifices that they and Jesus made for us.
I was drawn to two particular headstones of a couple. Francis fought in both World Wars, which means he was probably a career military man. Macy C was buried alongside him, an honor that she deserved as his longtime love, longtime companion, longtime support of her man on the front lines. They’d lived their lives far beyond the wars – probably had children, grandchildren, maybe even great-grandchildren.
I wonder if she comforted him when he came home from the wars – wiped his brow when he awoke from the nightmares. I wonder if he kept his visions to himself, or if he dared to share them with her. I wonder if she lived in fear of the dreaded telegram, and if she comforted her friends who were afraid or who actually got a visit from a uniform. I wonder what her feelings were when he had to go into battle the second time. Would he cheat death a second time?
I made note of their last days on earth. She died before him, just five months prior, shortly after I was born. I smiled to myself when I thought that he just couldn’t bear to live without her.
Ladies – whether your man is with the armed services or with law enforcement, you are a warrior’s wife. And we can take courage from those who’ve gone before.
Victoria Newman - "A CHiP on My Shoulder" February 17th, 2012
Posted In: Uncategorized
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