Voluntold

In retrospect, his graduation from boot camp couldn’t have come at a better time. I had just finished school for the summer, so I didn’t have to worry about driving back and forth and missing out on spending time with him while I was at school and in class while he was home on leave.  

During his time in Minnesota, we threw him a graduation party to celebrate both his graduation from high school, and his graduation from boot camp. I think this was probably the first time I had met most of his extended family so it was kind of a big deal for me too. I don’t think I even remember what else we ended up doing. But I do know this. I had never experienced 10 days that went so slow, and so fast at the same time.

One thing that I don’t think I completely realized until, probably, deployment #2, was that not only was boot camp preparing his body and his mind for what the next 4 years would hold, but it was also preparing the loved ones that would be his “cheering section” for the next 4 years. The Marine Corps was conditioning me to deal with the challenges the future would hold. And it amazes me how well it worked.

When I say that those 10 days went slow, and fast at the same time, it may be hard to understand, but the only way I can explain it, is this. After 13 weeks of not talking through anything but letters, it’s a little hard to get back into the swing of things, to get used to being able to talk to him in the flesh. It seems nearly impossible to talk in “real time” without having time to think over your words and pick and choose the things that are most important or most interesting. It’s almost like you have to re-associate with each other and try to get used to being around each other again. And, after spending 13 weeks apart, 10 days together seemed impossible. It didn’t seem like it was possible for us to be able to spend that long together—especially after the 2 days of pure (Chinese Water) Torture. It’s these things that made these 10 days seem like a lifetime.

However, at the same time, with those 10 days, came the unknown future. I knew that I would be spending 10 days of leave with him and that he would then return to California. But after he got on that plane, I had no idea when I might see him again. And when you’re facing an unknown like that, it makes that time fly by faster than you could ever imagine. But this is what prepares families for what is to come, and to not take the time they have for granted. To make the most of the time that they have together. More training, even while on leave.

And so it was. After those 10 days were up, I was faced with another emotional and difficult “good-bye”, which was just the second of many, MANY more to come. He headed back to California—this time to Camp Pendleton, where he was to continue his training with the MCT (Marine Combat Training) course. This training was less strict, and allowed us to at least communicate with each other through other resources than snail mail. It was also a shorter training—this time, only 4 weeks. However, almost immediately after that, he continued his training at Camp Pendleton by starting his MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) school.

He was voluntold to become a part of the Amphibious Assault Battalion. I say voluntold, because he really had no choice in the matter. When I said that the military liked to change their minds a lot, I wasn’t joking. It seems as though the “recruits”, while they are being recruited and told many, many lies. And they are given “glamour” stories about certain things. One of these things is their MOS. They give the recruits a list of jobs, making it seem like they can pick which one they want. However, they then proceed to attempt to convince you, that one of the jobs is WAY better than all the rest. For Steve, this started out as something involving aircrafts. Then it moved on to tanks, and eventually landed on Amphibious Assault Vehicles. Each time, the job they were pushing was made to seem so glamorous—although I don’t think there is any job in the Marine Corps that is glamorous—or at least not when you are straight out of boot camp. In essence, he was more or less TOLD that he had to work with Amphibious Assault Vehicles, but, through deception, it was made to look like he volunteered for that job---hence the term “voluntold”.

Nevertheless, this is what he attended school and further training for, and what he would spend the next 3½ years of his life doing.

The nice thing about MOS school is that it was MUCH more relaxed, and made being in two COMPLETELY different states a little easier on us—me especially. He was able to have his own cell phone that he could use after “working hours”—which was usually somewhere between 4 and 6. And he also ended up buying a laptop that he could use to connect to the Internet and talk to me online. During this time, he was also given many opportunities to do things that were a little step outside the military lifestyle. He was able to go to an Anaheim Angels game—for free, and without having to do any work at it—because of something they were doing in which they wanted military members there to “honor”. He also got to do “security” at a Brad Paisley concert in which he was in charge of the “handicapped’ section—where all of the people in wheel chairs were able to watch the concert (I’m sure they really gave him a run for his money!). I think it was nice for him to be able to get away after being forced to remain in close quarters with a bunch of guys for 4+ months constantly.

It also helped me to know that he was at least able to have a LITTLE fun despite being so far away from friends and family.

In all honesty, I think that this is the point in the active duty that I remember the least about. It was such an improvement over the rituals of boot camp, that we were overjoyed to have the opportunity to talk to each other, basically every night. In many ways it was the closest to a “normal” relationship that we ever got while he was in the military. This leaves me wishing that I remembered more about it and that I had taken advantage of that “normalcy” while we had it. I am hoping that some day I will stumble upon emails or letters from that time and be reminded the “little things” that happened.

Chinese Water Torture

I don’t think I would know what the original form of Chinese Water Torture was, were it not for my 8^th grade Geography teacher, and Mythbusters. So, for those of you that are unfamiliar with it, it is a form of torture in which you lie down and little drops of water are dropped on your forehead and varying intervals. The intent is to cause you as much anxiety and distress as possible. It doesn’t seem like it would be that torturous, but after hours upon hours or even days upon days, it begins to take its toll on you and drive you completely mental—according to Mythbusters anyway. I have never experienced it in its original form before, but I have experienced it in a different form.

On May 11^th Steve was to graduate boot camp and officially earn the title of a United States Marine. This was supposed to be right at the heart of my finals week at college, but fortunately the teachers are pretty easy on first-year students and in all of my classes, I either didn’t have finals, or they were given the week before during the last week of classes. So, on May 9^th, I found myself at the airport with my (now) mother-in-law and father-in-law ready to board a plane for the first time in my life to go out and see him at graduation. I don’t remember if he knew I was coming or not—I have a feeling that I probably couldn’t keep it a secret from him and ended up writing to tell him about it in one of my letters.

I was excited about the plane ride, but was more excited about what would be at the other end of plane ride once I got there. And, like a true new form of Chinese Water Torture, I soon realized (after his parents pointed it out) that MCRD, where Steve was jumping through his first set of hoops with the military, was right outside the window next to the airport as we were landing at the San Diego airport. The thought to just jump the fence crossed my mind, but I decided I might be shot if it did and decided against it. So, we headed to the hotel for the night.

The next day, we spent a lot of the day roaming around Old Town San Diego, and even hopped the trolley over to Coronado Island. I enjoyed it, and I had always wanted to go to California, so I loved walking around and seeing the palm trees and being in the warm weather and sun. However, the day was still not as exciting as I had originally dreamed my first trip to California would be. I knew that I was more or less just wasting time until it was time for what I REALLY went there for.

The following day, the 10^th, it was Family Day, which meant that we could FINALLY get on to the base (without being shot) and would finally get to see him. But the Chinese Water Torture wasn’t over yet. Rather than just saying “run free, find your recruit”, they paraded the family members around, gave them a little tour of the surrounding area, and went through the schedule for the day—as if we REALLY cared about what the place looked like. Then, we were led out to a big parking lot, where we waited for them to come running by. That’s right. They just ran by. We couldn’t hug him, we couldn’t talk to him, we could wave in hopes that he might pick us out of the crowd and know that we were there or cheer for him as if he could distinguish our voices from the hundreds, maybe thousands of others that were there. But, we watched him run by, caught a glimpse of him, and then it was off to more waiting.

We eventually walked over to the parade deck, where they had bleachers that were roped off so we could sit and wait. After what seemed like forever, but probably wasn’t really that long, the soon-to-be Marines came marching out in their Charlie Uniforms. Once again, they were in formation, and we were forced to sit there and watch. We couldn’t run out there, we weren’t close enough to talk to them. Chinese Water Torture. I think the little “program” that they had was about an hour long—which was too long. I don’t think I even had any idea what they were saying or what all was going on. I didn’t really care. Which was unfortunate. I am wishing I could find the program that we got so I could remember what all happened during that hour.

Finally we were allowed to jump the rope, along with the hundreds of other people, and “rush” the parade deck and attempt to make our way through the sea of people to find the one that we came there for. I found him without too much trouble (despite my being a tad vertically impaired) and I was FINALLY able to talk to him and hug him for the first time in 13 weeks. It was WONDERFUL. It was right around noon that they were “released” from their formation and free to go—anywhere on MCRD, that is. They weren’t allowed to leave, but we could stay there with them for a couple hours and wander around. And I was satisfied with that, for now.

Eventually we had to leave, and he had to stay there. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to leave him, knowing that I would see him the next day. This was the point that I realized that I was finally able to grasp how valuable time spent with your loved ones is. Despite enduring 13 weeks of no contact, I was dreading one more night of it. However, I knew I had to, and I knew I would survive, so off to the hotel we went.

The next day was Graduation Day. We headed back to MCRD and basically endured a repeat of the day before—minus the running thing. We were once again directed to the bleachers by the parade deck, where we watched them march out in formation—this time in their Bravo Uniforms. And we endured another (probably) hour long ceremony along with the Chinese Water Torture. This ceremony was a little more tolerable because they were being “pinned” deeming them, officially, Marines (they are considered “recruits” until they graduate boot camp). Eventually they were released once again to the masses of people. Only this time, we were able to take him WITH US. We left MCRD never to return again. We went to IHOP to eat, and luckily had a little time to do some sight seeing before our plane left later that day.

It was so nice to finally be able to walk around with my new Marine and I was so proud of him. After minimal sight seeing, we headed to the airport to catch the plane home. We were fortunate enough to be flying with an airline that had some compassion for service members, and despite the flight being nearly completely booked, they managed to rearrange our seats so I would be able to sit next to Steve for the plane ride home. We were kind of spread out from the rest of his family that was on the plane, but at least we didn’t have to endure more Water Torture by sitting at opposite ends of the plane. After the 3 hour ride home, we finally stepped foot back in Minnesota where we could enjoy a few days of relaxation before the next “storm”.

The First Wave

The first wave began in July of 2006—2 months after my graduation from high school. Although, to me , at the time, it seemed like a little kiddie pool wave, it was actually kind of a giant tidal wave—and the beginning of many more tidal waves. Perhaps it could be considered the beginning of a tsunami. In July, I’m not sure what day (although if I dug far enough, I could find the paperwork), Steve signed the contract to join the United States Marine Corps. I wasn’t there—I was probably at work, but he signed, and life went on. When he signed, I knew that they wouldn’t be able to send him anywhere until he graduated from high school, and being that he was homeschooled, I knew that his mother controlled when he graduated, thus he wasn’t going anywhere until they both thought he was ready, and I was ready. In January of 2007, his mom graduated him.

There’s two things that you learn REALLY fast when you become associated with the military lifestyle. The first being, that the military can change their minds whenever they darn well feel like it. The second being, that they like changing their minds, A LOT. So, despite being told that he wouldn’t be sent to boot camp until at LEAST July of 2007, at the end of January, we were told that he would be going in February. And as if the 2 week notice wasn’t bad enough, he was to report for active duty on February 14^th—Valentine’s Day. This forever tainted my view of Valentine’s Day, and the military, which didn’t put us off to a good start.

Since I was going to school 2 hours away, I believe that left me with 4 days with him—the 2 weekends that remained between the time that we found out, and the time that he had to leave. I finally realized that the tidal wave had hit. It was a struggle for me the next couple days to continue on the week attending classes, when what I really wanted was to spend as much time as possible with him before he left for boot camp. But, I made it, and since February 14^th fell on a Wednesday, we said our good-byes a few days early and on Wednesday, while I was at school, he was boarding a flight to California.

Marine Corps boot camp, from my understanding is a tad different then the boot camp of other branches of the military. Upon arriving in California, he was supposed to get a single phone call to notify his parents that he had made it. However, on his way out there, he missed the memo about a gate change, therefore missing his plane, and was then flown all over the country in order to get him to his correct destination. This resulted in him arriving later than the other “recruits” and thus, he didn’t get his one phone call. From the point they set foot at the Recruit Depot in San Diego, they become part of a 13-week program. During that time, they are allowed no phone calls, no Internet or emails, virtually no free time, and about 2 hours on Sunday to read their mail from the week and respond to it.

This was a big change after talking to him on the phone every night before I went to bed. So, instead, every night I would write him a letter. I think I sent one every single day that he was in boot camp, except the last couple weeks when I knew he wouldn’t get them before he graduated and moved somewhere new. I also anxiously checked my mailbox every day in hopes that he had enough time to write back to me. I think I only received about 4 letters from him during his time at boot camp, because, I found out, he had to spend all of his time reading the letters that I had been sending him all week, and rarely had time to write. But, I didn’t care—I kept writing because I wanted to make sure he knew that I was still at home waiting for him and that he was on my mind every day, and that I missed him very much.

I had found a “training matrix” on the Internet that told what they would be doing each day. I hung in on my wall next to my desk in my dorm room and looked at it every morning so that each day when I started my day, in the back of my mind I was thinking about him and what he was doing. Whether or not the Marine Corps strictly followed that training matrix, I have no idea, but it helped me to at least picture him doing something—even if it wasn’t what he was actually doing. It also was a reminder to me about what I had accomplished when it came to a new record for not having talked to him. Each day that I went without talking to him, fueled me and encouraged me, giving me hope that I could make it the full 13 weeks.

Those 13 weeks, I now feel like were ages ago. I do remember that I thought they went relatively fast considering I hadn’t talked to him, seen him (not even in pictures), or even heard anything ABOUT him (except the few letters he wrote) in over 3 months. There were so many questions I had for him that I wanted immediate answers to—if he did good on the shooting, and if he was passing all of the tests and mind games I knew they were throwing his way. But, those 13 weeks went by fast enough for me, and I think I coped with them quite well—although I haven’t read the letters I wrote to him since I wrote them—someday I will have to dig them out and read them again.

Despite the fact that I didn’t have TOO difficult of a time with that though, at the time I thought that it was “all downhill from here”. I don’t think that deployment or even the possibility of deployment and all that it entails had even entered into my mind at all. I’m not sure why, since it is pretty typical for a Marine to be deployed at least twice during 4 years of service—especially during wartime. Either way, I hadn’t realized or accepted what all lay ahead following boot camp, but I soon came to realize that it was only the beginning.  

The Flood

**My blogposts lately have developed into novels, so, since life is rather boring right now, I have decided to do a “series” with my blog and share stories about my time as a military wife. I have always wanted to document them somewhere, and decided that it would be here since I don’t have much else to write about right now. So, if you’re not really interested in this stuff, then you can tune out for a couple week—my feelings won’t be hurt.  

One of the main reasons that I started blogging, is because I wanted to remember the little happenings going on in my life and how I feel about those happenings. But my desire to remember and take note about these things was spurred by the fact that I wish I had documented more about my experiences of dealing with the Marine Corps and all the things they threw my way. I wished I had written more about my feelings and the things that my husband and I endured, both together, and separately. I would like to think that I will remember the wide range of emotions I experienced during any given circumstance for the rest of my life, but I’m not sure that will be the case. So, I once again find myself being pulled to write about my experiences being married to the Marine Corps. Every once in a while something comes along that sparks very strong feelings and vivid memories in my heart and mind that were from the Marine Corps Days (that makes it sound like it was years ago).

A childhood friend of mine said good-bye to her husband today, his last day in the states for a while, and sent him off to Afghanistan with all of her love. I believe it is their first deployment, which is always the hardest, and with 2 small children, it just makes it harder for her. Although I’ve never met her husband, neither in person or electronically, my heart is breaking with hers. The feelings that I felt when Steve left came flooding back, and I find myself nearly in tears, even though I know that he is just in the next room. In a way, I’m kind of glad that these emotions are flooding back though, because it makes me feel as though I am going through it all over again, so that I can be more in tune to what she is feeling and ways that I can help her. Since we have left North Carolina, I have been feeling the need to find some way to stay connected to the military by helping someone out, and I’m so glad that the opportunity to help her in any way I can has opened up and allowed me to stay connected a little longer.

Exactly one year ago today (the 6^th—even though I’m sure the date on my blog will actually read the 7^th), I was in the same boat. At about 11 in the morning, I had talked to my husband on the phone for the very last time before I sent him off to Afghanistan with all of my love. And all of the emotion that was tied to this circumstance is still fresh in my memory. It seems like it was just yesterday that I found myself hoping that the Marine Corps would change their minds—like they so frequently do—and decide to leave him behind. But, no such luck, and before long, he was on a plane that let him to Germany, Kyrgyzstan, and eventually Afghanistan where he would be for the next 7 months defending my freedoms and the freedoms of many others.

Although my heart is breaking for her, I am also excited for her. I know that she will find her own way of coping with a very big change in her life, and, as with any deployment, I know that it will change her and give her a sense of accomplishment that she’s never felt for her. It’s unfortunate that it has to be something that’s so difficult to endure that brings out that accomplishment and pride, but I know that it’s worth it in the end as long as you can weather the storms that are thrown your way throughout it.

So, with this new flood of emotions and vivid memories, I am going to attempt to finally document what I have been wanting to for so long. I am going to try to remember all the different hoops the Marine Corps has made us jump through, and all the things that I have learned while jumping through them. Mainly for my own benefit—so I can remember it all 15 years down the road, but also hopefully others going through similar circumstances will be able to know that what they are experiencing is “normal” and so maybe they can see the light at the end of the tunnel a little easier.

The November Storm

When a Marine gets married, their wives are frequently considered to be “Married to the Marine Corps”. And there is a reason for that. The Marine Corps becomes a key player in EVERY aspect of your life. It is, in fact, as if there is a third spouse in the relationship. A more demanding spouse, and a more high-maintenance spouse. And I am finding, that it is very hard to divorce that spouse after 4 years of being married to it. Okay, so I was LEGALLY only married to it for a little over a year, but it was still “the other man/woman” while we were dating, so it’s essentially the same thing, and still interfered with my life just as much, if not more, than when I was married to the Marine Corps.

Either way, I blame this for the reason that many of my blog posts and writings still revolve around the Marine Corps or at least involve it in some way. It is still very much a part of my life (although not as invasive as before) and changed who I was and made me who I am today. There isn’t really a way to let that go, not that I even want to let it go. But even if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be easy.



A storm rolling out over the ocean.



Linking back to the title and first post of this blog, the biggest storm of my life came a little over a year ago. On November 16^th of 2009, Steve told me that it was possible he would be deploying in April. It was a Monday and one of my best friends, Ashley, and I had date nights every Monday where we cooked for each other and watched our weekly TV shows together. So she was at my apartment. And, although, I never wished for her to be put through the awkwardness of being in the room and hearing a one-sided phone call while I was being informed that he would likely be going to Afghanistan, I’m very glad that she was there. I was devastated. But it made it slightly less devastating to realize that I had a friend that was there when this storm was suddenly raging.

Needless to say, over the next few days and weeks she wasn’t able to spend every waking moment with me (and reasonably so!). Since I lived by myself, as soon as she left, I felt like my whole world had come crumbling down. Usually I am a night owl and stay up until 1 or 2 in the morning, but that night, after she left, I went straight to bed. And over the next few days, maybe even weeks (I lost track of time), I felt like I had no purpose and like my everything had been completely flipped upside down and torn apart. I went to my classes, but didn’t really pay attention to anything but the millions of thoughts running through my head about what would happen over the next few months. Work was probably the only place that I felt normal again, likely because Ashley was there, as well as one of my other best friends Brandi-who ALWAYS has something positive and encouraging to say and provides a new way to look at things.

But when I was at home, by myself, I didn’t function properly. I would go home and sink down into the futon and try to disappear. And when I realized that didn’t work, I would turn the TV on to some stupid show to occupy my mind until I eventually decided to just go to sleep. I frequently wouldn’t answer my phone. I more or less just wanted to shut myself away from the rest of the world and not think about all of the new changes and challenges that had just been shoved on my already full plate. It was probably one of the lowest times in my life.

Steve had just returned from a deployment the April before and, therefore, hadn’t even been home for a year. I was halfway through planning a wedding for June of 2010, and he was projected to leave during April of 2010—which, as you can guess, wasn’t going to work. Eventually I had to face the facts of the deployment and figure out how I wanted to adjust my plans to fit these changes. But it took at least a week before I could even come to terms to face it. I finally did, and we moved the wedding up to the middle of December, which left me with less than one month to plan, and resulted in me giving up any hope of ever having a “normal” wedding. We opted for a small family wedding then and a bigger one later. Although, I’m not sure at the time of the wedding that I had yet accepted and completely adjusted to the storm that had just caused my world to be knocked from my hands.

The deployment date was moved up to the beginning of March, and I eventually adjusted enough to deal with it. This was largely due to the support that my friends gave me. I was shocked to know how much they “got” it. How well they understood what I was going through, and how well they knew how to help me in coping. Frequently I hear other military wives talking about how they “just don’t have anything in common with their civilian friends anymore”, and as a result those friendships are frequently broken and replaced with friendships with other military wives.

As soon as March hit, it was as though Ashley and Brandi were set to keep me busy all the time so that my mind was occupied and time would go faster. I didn’t ask them to do this. They just knew. When Steve would call while I was at work, they would “cover” for me so I could talk to him. I didn’t ask them to, and had actually just accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be able to answer and hoped that he would leave a voicemail so I could at least hear his voice. But if he called, and they knew about it, they practically pushed my down the stairs, because they knew how important it was to me to be able to talk to him. They realized that if I didn’t talk to him right then, I might not hear from him again for 2 or 3 weeks, or maybe even a month, or maybe even ever again. Something that many people, who have never had to be in that situation, have a hard time understanding. I never had to explain anything to them. They just “got” it. Sometimes it’s difficult to explain these types of things, even having gone through it, but yet despite never having to experience anything like it, they understood it. They are two pretty incredible ladies and I’m so glad that they stuck with me and let me use them as my “crutch” to make it through this.

I soon realized that this was the rainbow that God gave me after having to endure the storm of a lifetime. I think that my friendship with each of these girls was deepened in a way that never would have happened without this storm occurring. They were with my all throughout one of the hardest times in my life thus far, and helped me through every inch of it. I am so thankful for both of them.

I am also thankful for the storm. Looking back, there’s nothing I would have changed about it. Not even the part where I was essentially a zombie. It reminded me that it’s okay to have moments of weakness, and also reminded me that no matter how much I planned and how hard I tried to dictate what the future holds, there is just no way of knowing what the future holds and what God has planned for you. It also taught me to be more flexible and that all the worrying in the world isn’t going to change what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen. I found a very noticeable difference in myself starting in November of 2009 and leading up until today, that is a direct result of this low point in my life. God is continuing to use the military lifestyle and happenings to shape me into who I am becoming. It’s also said, “Once a Marine Wife, always a Marine Wife”. It’s something that just can’t be let go.

“…many mountains we must climb before we’ll be free, but he never told me about the bruises on my knees. And how they’d be the map that leads to where I need to be…who knows what the thunder and lighting will bring. Maybe the storm will cover my dreams, maybe the sun will shine no more. Who knows which way the wind is blowing and when we look back on these things, we won’t cry no more…”

--Zac Brown Band “Who Knows”

Face of War Friday

Okay, so it’s not Friday anymore, but this happened on Friday so I’m counting it as close enough.

On Friday, Steve and I went to the tech school and took a tour and completed some paperwork so we can get him enrolled for the fall semester. I think this was my first “shock” of being back in civilian life. We showed up to a room filled with 15 high school students and their parents. I had gotten so used to everything being Marines and their wives/fiancés/girlfriends, without ever seeing or hearing about their parents—although I know they were out there somewhere being supportive from a distance! I quickly found out, that I was the only wife there with a future college student, even though he didn’t look all that much older than the others there.

Steve also had to complete a Physical Fitness Evaluation to ensure that he was “fit” enough to be in the Law Enforcement Program. It was here, while sitting with the parents, watching the complete their physical evaluations that I noticed a difference. I realized that there was something different about him. Something different about his face. It is a Face of War. It is eyes that have seen far away lands, and both the good, and bad, things that are happening there. It is ears that have heard gunshots being fired at him, as well as the gunshots of his buddies who are helping to defend him. It is lips that have been coated in dust from the desert sands and the strong winds. It is skin that has been exposed to the sun and the heat. It is hair that has been covered up by a helmet that can save a life. All of these things together make up a face. A face that has seen things that many people, including myself, can’t even imagine. It is a face that has seen far more than the face of an average 21-year old. And a face that made him look different, to me anyway, than the other 15 future students.

I also soon found out that he not only had a Face of War, but also had a Body of War. I was nervous for him before he took the evaluation and he wasn’t nervous at all (go figure!). He read over the requirements to passed and laughed a little while he read them. I didn’t think they sounded that easy, but he seemed to think that they were! Although the Marine Corps has really taken a toll on his body with a knee and shoulder that seem to constantly cause problems and a hip that sometimes does—all a result of war injuries, he passed the physical evaluation with flying colors. Most of the other students passed as well, but it was easy to see that their bodies had not been conditioned for war like Steve’s had. Many of them started off running fast at the beginning or doing sit-ups or push-ups as quickly as possible, but slowed down quite a bit—and sometimes even stopped—once the end had approached. Steve maintained a steady pace throughout all of the activities—sometimes not starting off quite as fast as the others, but always finishing stronger than all of them. He was smart enough to pace himself—something I’m sure he learned very quickly after enduring long PT runs in boot camp, and something that came in very useful in a warzone when traveling over rough terrain. After completing the different areas of the fitness test, many of the others were red-faced, and huffing and puffing as if they had just completed a marathon, but Steve finished and looked as though he was a little bored. For his body had been conditioned for war. He was used to carrying “dummies” that had 80 pounds of gear on top of their actual weight. He was used to running with 80 or more pounds of gear on his body while carrying a gun. His body is a Body of War. Conditioned for it. Trained for it. But at the same time, weakened by it.

I am so proud of him for all that he has done and all of the difficult things he has had to face that have given him that Face of War. The things that have made him who he is today. I am so proud if him for doing as well as he did in the fitness evaluation—even though it is one of the easier things he’s had to accomplish. He will always be a Face of War. It’s what makes him who he is. It’s what makes me love him more and more every day.

5 Years

I never imagined that I would be married at the age of 21. Actually, I never imagined that I would be married at all. I think I was the first one in my grade (except for those that got unexpectedly pregnant, or were part of what could be considered a modern day arranged marriage). Weird. I also never expected to experience all of the things that I have experienced in my lifetime at such a young age. But I’m glad that I have.

With my 5 year high school reunion coming up (I know, big deal—5 years), I have been thinking about my high school classmates and what they have been doing with their lives and where they are at—if they are married or engaged, or if they have kids. If they have found their dream job, and where they “ended up” and whether they are happy with where their lives are at. At the same time, I have been thinking about my own life, and whether I am satisfied with where my life is at right now and this is what I have decided.

Although it would be nice if I had a job right now, I am satisfied with where I am at. I am lucky enough to have experienced the things that I have experienced (I also never imagined myself living in a different state) with full support and encouragement from friends and family. I am lucky enough that I have parents who are willing to do a little more work and endure a “different” lifestyle than before so that my husband and I have somewhere to stay while we attempt to start life over in a different part of the country.

I have amazing friends (that I NEED to go visit soon) that always understood the things that I was going through. I always hear so many stories about friends “breaking up” while the boyfriend/husband of one is deployed because they just don’t understand each other. Luckily, my friends were never like that and were bigger advocates of keeping me busy so time went by faster than I was. And for that I am very thankful!

I am very thankful that I have graduated college, with not one, but two degrees. Although I still find myself wishing I could go back to school and take some more classes. I’m sure I will some day—maybe after all my loans from this time around are paid off!

I am also lucky enough to have a husband who puts up with me. I’m sure sometimes I drive him absolutely nuts but he still puts up with me. I’m so impressed with how good of a team we make and how well we work together to get things done—especially with all of the current “rearranging” going on with moving back. I’m so glad that he’s always willing to help me with whatever I need and that he doesn’t complain too much when I ask him to do something for me.

There are a few other aspects of my life that could use some repairing, but I am working on that now that I have a little extra time. Sometimes I am so blinded by all of the good things going on around me that I forget who blessed me with these things, and I forget the areas of my life that could use some assistance. My next goal is to work on these things so that maybe by the time the 5 year reunion rolls around I will have everything back on track and will be able to say that everything in my life is exactly as I want it to be.