There was a very sweet exchange by the two little ones as they both squealed and reached for each other. Alongside of that moment, my wife began to talk with the little girl's mother.
In the middle of the conversation, I overheard "My husband is in Afghanistan and will hopefully be back by the end of the year." My heart dropped. This poor woman is bearing a burden that few others will ever have to bear. I saw my wife in her and wanted to weep.
As my wife spoke with this woman, I spent time talking with another couple. He was deployed with me. She tried to hold down the fort with a good number of kids as well as cope with the onset of extreme fibromyalgia. He was only allowed to come home with my group because she was in such dire need of his help.
In their six years of marriage, he has been gone for three with the military for three. They spoke every day during the first two deployments and she cried the whole time. This past deployment, they only talked about the phone every couple of weeks. Other than that, it was just the occasional email and letter. This created the emotional distance this wife needed. I will likely do the same for my wife if ever I am called away again.
People often extol the virtues of the modern technological age for soldiers, enabling them to contact home every day. But what if home doesn't want to be contacted? What if it shouldn't? Do we really want to draw our loved ones into the lifestyle of a soldier at war?
This deployment may have been more tame for my Army buddy, but as his wife noted today, he still came back different--just as he has every other time. They were at Goodwill recently and a kid ran by my buddy and brushed against him. My buddy immediately grabbed at his hip, and what he thought would be his weapon.
I tell soldiers from my unit that I broke down and wept the first time I was back in the pulpit on a Sunday morning, and they do not show the least bit of surprise.
Tonight, this couple reminded me that no matter what your experience out there, you never come back the same. I recently spoke with the wife of another buddy who is still out there, and her concern was just that--he'll come back different.
But as jarring as the examples are, and as hard as the pain can be to bear, different does not mean worse. The first two adjectives this wife used tonight to describe her husband after these three deployments: older and wiser. The brokenness of the world will always weigh upon the soldier; it need not crush him.
One of the changes brought about in soldiers during war is a desperate love and compassion for their own. That is what tore at my heart tonight with that mother. Spouses suffer worse than soldiers. She is one of us, and she needs us. In the same way, I told my soldier buddy that Dana Lyon might join the Ragnar Relay team. He wants to join and told me that if she comes, and needs anything--anything at all--let him know. She is one of us, and she needs us.
As the bonds of community in society as a whole break down, there are bonds that will never sever--the bonds of brothers and sisters, soldiers and spouses, who have been through war and will never be the same. May that always prove true, and may the change always be for the better.
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