The smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen always takes me back to that moment—the morning I realized we had hit rock bottom.

“Sweetheart, we’re out of milk again,” my mom called from the fridge. Her tone wasn’t sharp, but I could feel the weight of her words. She didn’t mean just the milk. She meant everything.

I was sitting at the table, staring at a stack of bills that didn’t belong to me and yet felt like my responsibility. My husband, Joe, was 300 miles away in Lancaster, California, working the only job he could find after leaving the Air Force. The kids were still asleep upstairs, but I knew they’d be asking for cereal soon.

“Mom, I’ll run to the store,” I replied, grabbing my purse. Her hand rested on mine. “You’ve got to figure this out, sweetheart. Joe can’t do this alone, and neither can you.”

Facing the Silence
Later that day, I sat on the porch while the kids played in the yard. Joe called, and I picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, how’s it going?” His voice was steady, but I knew him too well.

“It’s tough,” I admitted. “Mom’s reminding me that we’re overstaying our welcome. I know she’s not wrong, but... I don’t know where else we’d go.”

Joe sighed. “I’m trying, sweetheart. I really am. This job—it’s not what I expected. I feel like I left one battle for another. I don’t even know who I am without the uniform.”

The silence between us was deafening. Then, almost without thinking, I said, “Joe, you’re more than that uniform. We both are. We just need to figure out what that looks like now.”

Starting Small: Rediscovering Ourselves
The next morning, I started small. I grabbed a notebook and wrote down everything Joe and I had done in the military. Skills, roles, experiences—everything.

For him, it was logistics, leadership, and problem-solving. For me, it was adaptability, managing a household during deployments, and holding our family together.

When Joe came home for a weekend visit, I showed him the list.

“This is us,” I said, holding it up.

He laughed dryly. “Us? A bunch of words on paper?”

“No,” I insisted. “It’s who we are. We’re capable. We’ve just been looking at the wrong things. These aren’t just military skills—they’re life skills.”

Helping Others Find Their Way
Over time, I began sharing our story with other military families. At first, it was informal chats at the kids’ school or the grocery store.

One conversation in particular stuck with me. “Ma’am,” a young wife named Teresa said, “how did you do it? My husband’s out now, and he just sits on the couch all day. He doesn’t even look at job listings anymore. I don’t know how to help him.”

I remembered Joe in those early days—how lost he looked, how distant he seemed.

“Teresa, it starts with reminding him who he is,” I told her. “The military didn’t make him capable. It just gave him a uniform to show it. Without it, he’s still the same strong, resourceful person. Help him see that.”

The Three Steps to Finding Purpose
Through these conversations, I learned that finding purpose after service wasn’t just about finding a job—it was about rediscovering what drives you.

For Joe, it was teaching. He took the skills he’d gained in logistics and started mentoring young professionals in his field. For me, it was helping other families navigate this transition.

And for you? It might be something entirely different. But here’s what I’ve learned:

A New Chapter, Built on Strength
Joe and I eventually moved into our own home. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. Every step of the way, we reminded ourselves of our purpose—not just as individuals, but as a family.

So, as you face this new chapter, remember: You’re not starting from scratch. You’re starting from strength.

And if you ever feel lost, I’m here to help. After all, we’re in this together.

Discussion Questions