By Mackenzie Yaede
“Thank you for your service.”
It’s a phrase I’ve heard countless times. More often than not, I glance over my shoulder, assuming it’s meant for my husband—a United States Navy pilot. He deploys, straps into an aircraft, and serves our country in the most visible way.
But sometimes, the words are meant for me.
At first, they made me uncomfortable. I would smile politely while thinking, I’m not the one serving—he is. Eventually, I came to understand something deeper. While my husband wears the uniform, I carry the invisible weight of loving—and sharing—someone who does.
Military spouses rarely make the headlines. We don’t stand in formation or earn medals. Yet we serve in our own way—through every goodbye and anxious night tracking weather or world events. Over time, I’ve come to see us as quiet warriors.
For me, the hardest battles are internal. Anxiety can pull me inward, tempting me to replay worst-case scenarios. Over time, I’ve learned that the remedy to being stuck in my own head is service.
While living in San Diego, during a stressful stretch when my husband was gone, and I sometimes wouldn’t hear from him for days, I realized I needed an outlet for that anxiety. Instead of letting fear take root, I co-founded a military ministry support group at my parish. What began as a simple idea—creating a space for military-connected individuals navigating similar emotions—quickly took shape. By the time my husband returned, the group was up and running, and it was our turn to move to a new duty station.
Though my husband is currently on shore tour—behind a desk rather than in a cockpit—anxiety still finds its way in. When we arrived at our new duty station last spring, the transition felt lonely. We went from being surrounded by our squadron—a community that felt like family—to living in a city where we knew no one.
After a few months of finding my footing and helping my husband settle into his new role, I realized I needed something for my own sense of purpose. That’s when I discovered Luke’s Wings, a nonprofit that reunites wounded, ill and injured service members, veterans and fallen officers with their families during recovery and rehabilitation. I knew I wanted to be part of this mission. I reached out to their Executive Director, Jamie Kopp, whose compassion and dedication immediately stood out. What began as a simple introduction quickly grew into a mentorship and friendship I can’t imagine living without.
Equally meaningful was the warm welcome from CEO and co-founder Fletcher Gill. Arriving at Luke’s Wings felt like coming home—a place where the work I do every day directly reflects the heart of military life.
As a military spouse, Luke’s Wings’ mission is deeply personal. My professional role managing flight operations allows me to turn my understanding of military family life into action, and helping reunite loved ones during critical moments feels like a natural extension of the life I live at home—built on love, sacrifice and commitment. Every flight we coordinate brings a family together during their toughest moments, a reminder that time with loved ones is never guaranteed or taken for granted.
Military life brings uncertainty, but one thing remains constant: service reorients the heart. When I turn outward to help those around me, my anxiety loosens its grip. I’m reminded that while I cannot control flight schedules, weather or global events, I can control how I respond and show up for people in need.
My husband may be the one flying the aircraft, but I’ve learned to chart my own course—toward service, community and purpose. When anxiety creeps in, I step outside myself and look for ways to be useful. In serving others, I find steadiness.
Military spouses serve without rank, recognition or acknowledgment. We build community from scratch, hold households together during deployments, and live in the tension between pride and worry.
So when someone says, “Thank you for your service,” I still pause.
But now, instead of deflecting, I think of the countless spouses quietly carrying similar loads: dinners eaten alone, moves navigated with resilience, prayers whispered in quiet kitchens.
Maybe the words aren’t misplaced after all.
Because while our service may not come with a uniform, it is service nonetheless. And we carry it quietly—with strength.
Mackenzie Yaede is a military spouse supporting service members and their families through nonprofit work and volunteer efforts. She writes about the perseverance and quiet strength behind military service, highlighting the unseen sacrifices and resilience of military families.
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