The older gentleman stood in front of me, his brow pushed into a frown as he related to me that his grandson was joining the armed forces. “I just wish you and your husband could talk to him…talk him out of it, ” he said, “he’s too old for this. He already has a family.”
I looked into his hurting eyes and patted his arm as he turned to leave. No, he didn’t really want me to talk to his grandson.
Because, if I did, I would tell them both that every soldier – every man and woman serving – they are someone’s sister, brother, daughter, son, granddaughter, grandson, niece, or nephew. They are mothers and they are fathers. They are husbands and they are wives. These people who defend our country daily – who sometimes sleep on the ground and get shot at… they are not faceless warriors, they are not drones programmed by the United States Army. No, these men and women are our families, our friends, and our coworkers. They are loved. And, they are missed terribly. Every single one of them.
And then, I’d ask if he was fighting because God had called him to pick up this burden and carry it. If he said yes, I’d simply say, “Vaya con Dios.” Go with God.
No, you don’t want to ask me to dissuade someone for answering their call. Because I can’t.
I love my husband and my children and I miss him terribly. Is it easy? No. Would I have chosen another “path” if given the chance? Yes, but God didn’t ask me when drawing out His Ultimate Plan…