A SOLDIER'S STORY

13 dead 30 wounded. He was a psychiatrist but his mind was troubled. He was a Major but he was unable to lead. Many would have you believe that his religion was the reason, maybe, but maybe not. It takes a lot to be a soldier; it takes almost as much to be a soldier’s wife. No one knows the life we both have lived unless you've been there, done that. Do I regret it? – No. If given the chance would I go back tomorrow? – No.

“Boo, my unit is being deployed to Kuwait in 2 weeks.” I’d seen it happen to others but when I heard it in my own house then it became real. I heard a scream but I thought it was in my head until my neighbors ran through the door – I was crying, hyperventilating and pleading with God. We were in Germany and I’d just lost my mother 10 months earlier ~ life seemed so unfair. I found myself in the same daze that I was in when I came home to bury my mother; things were cloudy. I felt like I was losing my mind. I was forced to stay or risk losing housing if I came home. Stressed, depressed. That was my story…

He came over for dinner; a friend we’d met at Fort Bragg, N.C. In the Army you’re family and we look after our own. We met because we all lived in the same apartment complex and like family we found each other when we got overseas. They lived about two hours away but when you’re overseas that’s like being as close as Atlanta to College Park – we would pack a bag and spend the weekend; they would do the same. When they found out he was being deployed they had to send their 3 kids home to Alabama because she worked nights. Daily she cried for two reasons; her husband was going to war and she had to send her children home. They flew alone – they paid the cost – the military will only pay if you have orders. That was Malone’s story…

It played out like a scene from Army Wives. She was the wife of a Navy Seal with a young son about 5. She seemed a little ditzy to me; not the normal type of friend I would be drawn to. I often wondered why her husband could go to work in civvies and why he had a beard; my husband later explained. I can’t remember how we became close but I do remember sitting in her kitchen most mornings helping her search the newspaper. It became a habit; the least little article may have held a clue of his assignment. I realized that the ditzy was really her early afternoon bottles of wine; red eyes not from the wine but from crying every time her son asked why didn’t daddy say goodbye or tell him that he wasn’t coming home. He never told her goodbye. She would sit by the door waiting, sometimes he came, most times he didn't. Like Pam from Army Wives she left too. That was Karyn’s story…

It was her first child. A soldier married to a soldier. He was our homeboy and I was supposedly the only person that he ever saw his wife comfortable around; I made her laugh. She was pregnant when we met; they were having a little girl. Later he found out that he was being deployed even though he was soon to be a father, they prayed that he wouldn’t be sent before his child was born; he wasn’t, his orders said that he would leave 5 days after she was born. She was a new mom, prepared to watch her daughter crawl without her husband; 3 weeks after giving birth her orders said that she would leave after her 6 week check-up; they gave her 3 days to take her newborn to her mom. That was Lawson’s story…

He’d only been home a month. As they strolled through the PX a male soldier spoke, she spoke back thinking nothing of it. On the ride home he questioned her about the guy; she wasn’t sure what he was talking about. By the time they arrived home the conversation had turned into an argument, the argument turned into a fight. With hands clasped around her neck he forced her to the balcony threatening to throw her over onto the ground 15 feet below. PTSD was not an option back then; he was sentenced to 10 years. That was Eduardo's story…

Why am I saying this, well it’s by no means justification for the actions of the Major at Fort Hood nor am I making an excuse for him. When I think about him I don’t see the Muslim terrorist that he’s being labeled; I see a stressed individual that took the coward’s way out to prevent being deployed. I can’t tell you what he must have been thinking, but I can tell you what might have been going through his head the day before. Stress, Depression, Fear… Yes, life in the Army can deal you a hand that some days you can handle and some days you can’t. It can send you off to war in your right mind but bring you back depressed. It can send you off an innocent person but bring you back with blood on your hands. It can send you off trusting of others but bring you back looking over your shoulder. It can send you off with laughter in your heart but bring you back with tears in your eyes. In our minds once a soldier, always a soldier…to us the real meaning of the U.S. Army is (Uncle Same Ain’t Released Me Yet) ~Fort Hood, TX 2001-2003(Retired) TGBTG

I am a Soldier. Serving Proudly, Standing Tall.
I fight for freedom, by answering this call.
I do my job knowing the thanks it sometimes lacks.
Say a prayer that I'll come home.
It's me who has your back.
Author Unknown

~Stay Prayed Up!! Click on the Link

MASKS

There is an old saying that “one thing leads to another,” and it’s true. Its funny how as time goes by something you’ve seen or done over here seems to coincide with something you’ve seen or done over there. For me it has become evident that all things work together.

Scene I – Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I purchased a small plaque that cost me about $1.00, it was a plain and simple plaque but the words written on it spoke to me as Braille speaks to the blind. I never realized how much of an impact or revelation this simple plaque would make. But, all things work together.

Scene II – Schweinfurt, Germany, several years later. Heading back to work from lunch I saw a beautiful porcelain mask that I could not take my eyes off of. It was captivating, the color and the markings were searing. Something was clearly speaking to me through this mask that I was yet to hear, but I knew in my heart that it would eventually be mine. Approximately 5:10 p.m. I was standing at the vendor’s stand purchasing that mask and a few more.

Fast forward – After I hung my faces on the wall I stepped back to admire my collection; they were exquisite! Somehow they seemed to come to life right there on my wall - it was then that I realized my porcelain faces were telling me how easy it is to hide behind a mask, especially in the military because no one knows from whence you came.

All things work together. It was becoming obvious that my plaque and masks were trying to teach me not to lose sight of who I really am, not to become so fixated on what I could pretend to be, but rather to rest in who I was made to be. Bottom line - it takes more work, and money, to be fake than it does to be “real.” A few years later I received my confirmation when a still small voice said to me, “If you impress Me, I’ll make sure you’re impressed with yourself, and then everyone around you that matters will be impressed.” TGBTG

The Plaque – "The Face in the Glass"

When fortune smiles and you’re winning life’s race
And fate stores your blues on a shelf,
Seek your reflection and examine the face
That shows the real truths of your self.

For it isn’t family or all the rest
Whose judgment you truly must pass,
The one whose verdict counts most is best
Is the face staring back from the glass.

You may fool the world everyday for years,
Drawing glory and praise by the mass,
But your final reward will be measured in tears
If you’ve cheated the face in the glass.

Author
Wendy Lyn

~Stay Prayed Up! CLICK ON THE LINK