Love You More Than You Know
Janie Reinart and Mary Anne Mayer
Gray & Company, Publishers

Reading this book of essays written by 45 mothers whose sons and daughters chose to enlist in the United States Armed Forces is an exercise in compassion, awe and empathy. And coming off a Memorial Day weekend, this collection carries the engaging emotional weight even further.

Janie Reinart and Mary Anne Mayer collected the stories of women unprepared to watch their boys and girls leave childhood behind to become soldiers and protectors. In the process the mothers turned to others like themselves for understanding and support, to their equally unprepared family members and to their spiritual faith for sustenance and hope.

Each told her story, emphasizing the unique responses to hearing her child’s decision, gathering the courage to support that decision, living that choice on a day to day basis, staying the course while their loved ones struggled with the decisions they had made and living in the moment until the outcome unfolded for the family.

The surprise announcements of their offspring gave way to agony, fear and dread, a war waged by these proud silent warriors on a daily basis. These were the feelings all had in common as they learned how to cope with situations beyond their control. A few spoke of their anger at the conflict itself while others were incensed by the arguments brought by protestors against the war.

Still, anger was managed and turned into positive behaviors and admirable lives allowing these mothers to accept the things they could not change. One woman, Annie Fawley, did all of the normal things mothers of military sons and daughters do: wrote letters filled with news and comics, sent packages, kept in touch via e mail and phone. The most powerful connection with her deployed son came through the miles and miles of running she accumulated while jogging in order to work out her stress and angry feelings.

The coping styles varied since they were bound together by their “being in the same boat” but they also differed depending on the personality and history of the individual. A few, like Celeste Hicks, came from a military family and pointed with pride to her sons and daughter who served and fought to “keep us safe in the land of the free and the brave.” One woman’s anxiety was so great that she turned to medicine as a tool to help her get through the long days and nights.

Even “fate” was employed to assist in the acceptance of the inevitable. Some women wrote poetry while others quietly listened with bated breath to their children as they narrated the horrors of war, the chaos, the fearful IUD’s, the intense, unrelenting heat, or the death of their buddies. The mail, the media, the phone calls were ways they could quell the fire in their bellies; but these, too, had their downside in being either too available -- even in the middle of the night -- or unavailable because of military blackout periods.

The process of living in this chronic state of suspended animation would take its toll on some and strengthen others while uniting all of these military moms in a spirit of empathy for others and hope for an end to war.

This is a book for all mothers, fathers and Americans regardless of which opinion of the war you may hold since it speaks to the enduring sacrifices of parents for their children, of young soldiers for their country and to the nobility of the human spirit when faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges.

Military families often understand the gravity of service, but not everyone has a member of their family, or even a friend, enlisted in the military. For the latter-mentioned, More Than You Know is an equally perfect read -- one to help carry on appreciation for veterans beyond the recent holiday acknowledging them.

Learn more about the book, read other reviews and samples here.

From Cool Cleveland contributor Gloria M. Hanson glorh2689atroadrunner.com

Hanson is a retired clinical social worker who has written poetry and prose as an avocation for many years. She lives in Cleveland Heights. (:divend:)