Saturday, June 15, 2013

92. "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

"Fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star.
I wish upon the night to see you smile.
If only for a while, to know you're there,
A breath away's not far to where you are..."
I often have this odd sensation of looking down on my life from up above, as though from a distant galaxy. The edges of what I can see down below are a little hazy and out of focus, and I can't quite discern what lies beyond the fours corners of my existence. Perhaps it's just easier to disassociate from the truth by taking myself out of the picture entirely. This out-of-body sensation usually envelops me just as I'm about to drift off to sleep, and I always wonder if the picture will look different by the time I wake up. But when I return to reality, I'm back in the picture and Jon is still gone. The picture is the same, and there's still an empty spot in the bed where his 5'10" frame used to rest next to me so peacefully.

Due to the nature of what I do here in Afghanistan, I can't openly discuss the details of my job or what I've learned thus far.  What I will say without restraint, however, is that I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with mass media and its impact on wartime operations.  When Jon was deployed to Iraq, my heart sank every time I turned on the news and saw the news ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen with the names and numbers of the Soldiers we'd lost in combat that day.  Now I find myself scouring the headlines for any mention of Afghanistan and, similarly, my heart sinks when there's nothing to be found.  I see more coverage of insignificant things happening in other countries than I do about our own Soldiers fighting and dying for the sake of everyone back at home.  It's as if this kind of news is no longer sensational enough to splash across the front page and has now been downgraded to a mere afterthought.  Why is that?  Is it just that after twelve years, the majority of the American population has become numb to the loss of our men and women at the hands of terrorists? And when did we reach the point at which we could be so cold and indifferent towards death?  Is it because so few Americans are personally impacted by these losses given that so few people volunteer to serve in the first place?  Hey, if the news isn't covering it anymore, the situation can't really be that bad, right?  Ha.  I don't mean to sound bitter, but if people only knew . . .

Although the national anti-war sentiment was far more rampant and unforgiving during the Vietnam War era, I'm beginning to wonder if this is how those veterans felt when they returned home and were told by cowardly draft dodgers that what they fought for was "wrong" or pointless.  I find myself studying past military operations in which American lives were lost (like Operation Gothic Serpent, Somalia) and wondering if we've learned anything at all from our mistakes.  I guess only time will tell.  But until then, I won’t hold my breath.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  Never before have the debts of so many been paid by so few.  And if you ask me, there’s something very wrong with that picture.  As some of us know all too well, freedom is not free.

People ask me all the time why I'm still in the Army after everything that's happened.  My question to them is "why not?"  Someone has to do it right?  My husband taught me a lot about leadership, and one thing it does not include is looking around for someone who'll take the hit when shit hits the fan.  It really is as simple as stepping forward and saying "here I am, Lord.  Send me."  (Isaiah 6:8)  When my ROTC instructor, Matthew Eversmann (75th Ranger Regiment Veteran and co-author of the book "Black Hawk Down,” which tells the story of Operation Gothic Serpent), first recited this quote to my young, impressionable commissioning class, I thought his words were just that:  words.  But now I know better.  They're not just words - they're proof of a purpose in a world where terrible things happen and so little makes any sense.  And so I say, here I am, Lord.  Send me.  Jon would expect no less.

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