A Letter on Invisible Strengths

My Dearest Friend,

Invisible strengths are hard to name, perhaps because they do not trumpet their presence. They grow quietly, like roots beneath the soil, unseen until their hold steadies us. Only when we look back do we realize how much they have carried us, woven through our days like threads of resilience hidden in the fabric of our lives.

People often say military spouses are adaptable, resilient, and dependable. Those words may sound like clichés, but they are clichés for a reason. This life demands them. We are asked to bend and not break, to welcome the unexpected instead of fearing it, to stay soft enough to love the life we did not choose and strong enough to endure the changes it brings.

Marriage and Parenthood

Marriage and parenthood in the military ask for a different kind of partnership—one where you learn to be fully engaged when you are together, yet capable of carrying the household alone when the mission pulls your spouse away. You find yourself holding two worlds at once—remaining a partner to someone serving far away, while also managing the daily work of solo parenting at home. And somehow, in that tension, communication deepens. It must. Without it, separation cracks the foundation. With it, marriages sink roots deep enough to hold through deployments, late-night calls, and constant goodbyes.

Careers That Pivot

These strengths show themselves in careers as well. You learn to pivot when a move or a hiring freeze bars the way. You ask yourself, What else might I do? How else might I give my time meaning? And in that asking, many of us become innovators, volunteers, entrepreneurs—finding ways to make a difference even when the path we planned is closed. Like water, we find another channel.

Letting Go of Control

There is another invisible strength too: the art of letting go. So much of our lives is decided for us—where we live, when we move, how long we stay—that we sometimes clutch too tightly at the few things we can command. Yet there is power in loosening that grip, in standing in the uncertainty and saying, I will still be okay. That surrender is no weakness—it is a quiet, enduring strength, a superpower all its own.

The Hardest Seasons

And then there are the hardest seasons, the ones that test us beyond what we thought we could bear. I have mourned the loss of my brother-in-law while living overseas, unable to fly home to stand beside my sister. I have parented a toddler through a deployment while losing another baby to miscarriage. These are not chapters I ever wished for, yet together they revealed strength I did not know I possessed: the strength to remain steadfast, to hold space for my sister’s grief from afar, and to cradle the child in my arms even while grieving the one I could not hold. Each of these moments revealed a quiet strength I did not know I possessed, a strength that continues to shape how I walk through this life.

The Lesson

Invisible strengths are not loud or obvious, but they are steady and enduring. They are like roots sunk deep in unseen soil, like threads that bind a tapestry firm. They appear in how we hold our families together during separations, how we find creative ways to rebuild our careers, and how we endure loss without allowing it to harden us. They remind us that even in uncertainty, we carry within us the capacity to adapt, to grow, and to remain present. These strengths may not always be visible to the outside world, but they shape us into people of uncommon resilience, compassion, and steadiness.

To the Spouse Who Wonders if They’re Strong Enough

You are. The very fact that you are walking through this life—navigating moves, deployments, long nights, and unexpected losses—is proof of your strength. Perhaps you feel weary. Perhaps you doubt that what you are doing is enough. But strength is not about feeling invincible—it is about continuing to endure, even with trembling hands and a tender heart. Whether you are parenting alone through a deployment, rebuilding community after a move, or grieving losses too heavy to name—you are carrying invisible strengths that matter deeply. Others see them, even if you cannot. And they are enough.

Yours in all sincerity,
A Kindred Spirit

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A Letter on the Neighbors Who Become Family