THE INNER WORKINGS...

tour of duty

It's funny how connected you can feel to a place where you haven't been in a long time. Especially if it's home.

They were easy to spot because they were wearing their fatigues. A whole group of them was checking into their domestic flights after going through immigration. The moment that I spotted the soldiers, I had the urge to put my carry-ons down and rally up everyone around me - everyone re-checking their luggage or re-arranging their flight or going through the metal detectors - and start applauding. It wasn't a conscious plan I devised, it was a gut reaction. I simply was amazed by them. Enamored. Fascinated. Grateful.

But I didn't do it. In most social situations, I tend to adhere to the accepted norm, a norm which generally does not include bursting into applause in the middle of a crowded airport. And so I simply went on.

I boarded the train to get to my concourse along with four soldiers. One was going home for good. He was an officer. He nearly ran to his gate. Three were going home for some R&R. Then they were going back. I heard one woman say good-bye to her fellow soldier. "See you on the 18th." she said with a little bit of nervousness in her voice. To my other side, a young man blurted out, "Man, I'm so jealous. He's going home. I've got to go back." To this, a woman who works at the airport pushing around wheelchairs said, "Thank you for all that you do."

It was then that I teared up. And I said a silent prayer for the other three's protection.

As I got off the train, I saw more soldiers. And each time I saw a brave man or woman in their uniform, I wanted to congratulate them. I wanted to be bold like the woman that pushes wheelchairs and say "thank you". But I was embarrassed. Words felt so small. I felt silly. And so I went into the bathroom, all-the-while thinking of the soldiers. In my head, I planned what I would say to them if I got up the courage to say anything at all. Why couldn't I get over my self-centered inhibitions and simply thank someone for protecting my country?

As I went to wash my hands, there was a soldier across from me. This was my chance. I took my time trying to rehearse what I would say. As I turned, I doubted that I would even have the courage to go through with it. But for a split-second I leaned over as I walked out and said, "I just wanted to say... thank you." She smiled. I walked out.

And then the tears started streaming. I don't know why, but a deep chord within me was touched. Call it gratefulness. Call it patriotism. Call it fighting for a cause.

And then God, like He always does, brought the lesson home: they're committed to a battle. I've committed to one, too.

I might not be wearing a uniform but I, too, am coming home from the front lines. I've seen a lot of fighting, and been witness to stunning victories and discouraging defeats. And to be honest, much of me thinks that I'm going home for some R&R. But that's a lie. The war is still raging. On assignment or not, I'm still committed. Committed to fight.

Comprometida a la batalla.

posted by Courtney @ 2:41 AM