Friday, January 13, 2012

What about my sons?

The cool thing about being in the military these days is that most Americans truly respect and appreciate those in uniform. Rarely can my husband go anywhere in his flight suit without someone thanking him for his service. He's made many a friend in the gas station as veterans love talking about their own time in uniform. He loves talking with previous military because their experience and their sacrifice is so unique to the time period they served.

Being a military spouse, I don't get the affection my husband receives from the public, but I certainly do get some interesting questions and statements.

Here's the question that hits me differently this time around.
"Would you want your sons to follow your husband's footsteps and join the military? What if one of your sons chooses this way of life?"

It squeezes my heart because my two oldest sons aren't babies anymore. They aren't really all that far from making these life choices. The choice is not distant. It's creeping closer. It's possible they could choose this life. Maybe it's probable in light of their love for their daddy. Be still my heart.

My husband was a military man when I met him. Seeing him in his uniform only three days after we met, there was no doubt that he was committed to a portion of his life being served out in the military. He was strong, courageous, bold, and focused. I never knew him as anything else. There was no question that he was fully capable of living out this life. Born a soldier, I used to think.

But, my sons? The first time I met them, they were naked and screaming their heads off. Only did they quiet down when they were safe in my arms. They just knew that I was their mama. They wanted me. Needed me. I wiped their tears. I held their hands. I rocked them to sleep. I prayed for them. Stayed up all night when they were sick. Brushed their teeth until they were five. I don't know if they'll ever be that strong. I don't know if they'll be courageous. Bold and focused? I just don't know. I have to admit...it seems different to send my sons...

Here's my next thought about that very same question: Would I want my sons to go? Guess what? The choice is theirs. They have a choice. Only by God's grace am I living in the right country, during the right decade so I don't have to send my son or daughter or husband anywhere they don't want to go. They are free. That's what all the soldiers of the past ensured for us---OUR FREEDOM TO NOT HAVE TO GO! The freedom to not have to send our children. That's a sweet gift we've been given.

There was a time in this country...not too long ago...that you didn't have a choice. It didn't matter whether you wanted your son to go. His number was called. He went. No discussion. The "selection" process was based on when you were born. The precious memories of your child's birth numbed by the fact that the year they came into this world sent them to war.

Our good friend was drafted during the Vietnam War. It didn't matter that his mother probably didn't want him to go. He had to go. My husband's grandfather was drafted during World War II. He left on a bus for bootcamp thinking he would be returning in a couple weeks and he came home...two years later. Are you kidding me? Your son's draft number puts him on a bus and you don't see him for TWO YEARS? I'd say we're pretty blessed to live in the last several decades.

In 2012, not every person has to serve. Awesome. Our family chose this way of life. You can't pity us during the deployments. My husband's commitment is up--we could get out at any time. We've chosen to commit to a life that would entail being separated for extended period of times. We've chosen a way of life that might be a tad bit more dangerous than the average job and more stressful on a marriage. His number wasn't drafted. There's no penalty if he chooses to get out. He chose to stay in.

Yet, the only reason there's no draft today is because of the men and women that are still choosing to go. Someone has to go. My husband missed Christmas so some other father didn't have to. Another soldier will miss their child's birth, so my husband can make it home for his son's birthday.

My friend's son will go next year, so that my sons have a choice.
Someone else's son will go, so my sons don't have to...

And if the day comes when one of my sons puts on a military uniform...
If the day comes that one chooses to go...
If my son standing before me asks me what I think about his choice to serve...
I'll close my eyes, think of that screaming, helpless baby, and thank the Lord that he grew into a strong, courageous man...
It will be his choice...not mine.

I need to start praying for strength...
Surely all three of my sons wouldn't make that choice...
It's different to me the thought of sending my sons...



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