Be of Service

My son, Jesse Mizener, had a heart for people. He always thought of others. No one was lonely or upset in his presence — he was everyone's friend. After Jesse joined the Army, his first assignment was Fort Lewis, Washington. Jesse, his wife, and two babies weren’t there long before he was deployed to Baghdad, Iraq. 

It might sound crazy, but I was honestly excited that he was going overseas. I enjoy sending letters and packages to friends and family. So, in my head, it was an opportunity to send packages. I sent Jesse packages two to three times a week with things he needed and goodies he wanted. One day, he asked if I could send packages to a couple of his battle buddies who weren't receiving mail — he couldn’t stand them not feeling supported. So, I began sending packages to Jesse and 15 other soldiers in his unit. This went on for 11 months. 

Jesse was killed on Jan. 7, 2004. I was lost and suddenly without purpose. My husband suggested I keep sending packages, but Jesse’s unit was now home.

Rediscovering Purpose
I somehow got the name of a soldier in Afghanistan. I wrote him a letter asking if I could send him a care package with toiletries and snacks. I’m sure he must have thought: There’s a crazy woman in California who wants to send me things, sure!

Once again, I bought supplies and goodies and rediscovered my rhythm of packing and shipping. In each package, I included a letter asking for the name of any soldier who wasn’t receiving mail. My one soldier soon became five, then 15, then 50! It was then that my friend, Stephanie Fetherlin, suggested we form a nonprofit organization. And, so, Packed with Pride (because I packed each box with the pride of a soldier’s mom) was founded. 

Names of Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines from all over the world came in, and once word got out, we began receiving donations — from $5 to $500 — which allowed us to buy supplies and ship hundreds of boxes. What began in my formal living room eventually moved to the garage, which was a feat in itself. At the time, we’d lived in our house 20-plus years and had a garage full of things to prove it. It took a while to clear it out and set up shelving for our supplies. It wasn’t long before even the garage was too tight for our operations.

Pitching In
Volunteers who wanted to support our troops — even some of the parents of service members who received one of our packages — pitched in with the packing. Businesses — Starbucks, See’s Candy, and more —  donated items. We were blessed in so many ways, including finding a home where Packed with Pride could grow: a local church, the Central Church of Christ, which offered their old youth building. 

We ran Packed with Pride for 10 years, sending over 60,000 packages to hundreds of men and women serving in the military. I have binders full of letters thanking us for the boxes. These letters brought us all joy and encouragement.

Find Your Place, Make a Difference
Over our 10 years, I spoke at churches, service organizations — anywhere I could find an audience, and each time I spoke about Jesse. That helped me to heal. It was as if I had been carrying bricks on my shoulders; each time I spoke about him, I felt the emotional weight I carried after his death ease. And, each time, talking about him and our loss became easier.

This time was full of incredible experiences: trips to the White House, the Pentagon, Andrews Air Force Base, Walter Reed Hospital, and more. In serving the deployed, I found a way to keep Jesse’s memory alive and continue his legacy of supporting others.

Starting a nonprofit was challenging work — wonderfully satisfying, challenging work, and it’s not for everyone. But, you can be of service somewhere. Your school, your place of worship, a local service organization, or a national nonprofit, like TAPS — you can make a difference, and you will notice positive changes in yourself. Find the place that is right for you, and be of service.

PHOTOS:  SSgt Daniel Herman, MSgt Steph Sawyer, PFC Prim Hibbard, Amn Colleen Coulthard