Military

Sometime before the first of the year, my daughters and I finished up at the gym we go to three days a week and needed to make a stop at the post office. I was dressed in my gym clothes, obviously, which included a shirt from Camp Humphreys that I'd received at one of the gyms on post. The back of it mentions the post itself and identifies it as a military affiliation. 
Standing in line at the post office, an elderly gentlemen behind me spoke up and asked me if that was a military shirt. I paused for a moment and remembered what I was wearing and told him yes and explained where I got it. That lead us to a conversation about my affiliation with the military and my husband's story, and then to this man's story. He'd flown as a paratrooper many years ago. In his eyes was that look - you've seen it if you've ever spoken to a veteran - pride, memories, and love for his country. He even carried an old black and white photo of himself as a soldier with all his equipment on his back there in his wallet. I have great respect for all veterans, and I love to talk to them and hear their stories. They are what we stand on now as a country and they are greatly overlooked. 
But that is not the point I want to make today. You see, he was not the first man to start a conversation with myself or John, when he was alive, based only on some sort of evidence that we were an Army family. We've been approached in restaurants, grocery stores, or in line anywhere where lines tend to form by veterans of all ages. Sometimes by active duty soldiers as well. And at the time I looked at it as sort of quaint, sweet, maybe a little bit sad. At times I think I've even been a little annoyed by the older men who have stopped to chat when I didn't feel very generous with my time, and at the time I don't believe I understood what it was that made them reach out and spark up a conversation with a stranger. 
Now I do. Saturday I was on a road trip with some of the youth from our church and we stopped at a McDonald's to get something to drink. A couple of our girls got out and most of us stayed in the car and waited. As we sat there I watched a young man get out of his car shouldering a backpack full of his ACU's and carrying his boots. Something strange happened in my heart. It's certainly not the first time I've seen someone in uniform or obviously military walking around since John. But something made me want to jump out of the car and ask him where he was going, why he was going to change in this McDonald's, if he was national guard, if he was soon to be deployed or just going to weekend exercises. I desperately wanted to connect with someone military and hear all about what they were up to. And I really don't know why. Sure, there are psychological reasons why I would want that at this point in my life. Why my heart would ache in seeing someone out of the blue who represents what my life has been all about for the past 4 years. But I think it was more than that. I think the military gets in your blood, becomes a part of you. The brotherhood that is often spoken of between soldiers has seemed, up until now, as something they just say and don't really mean. I've been assured that the loss of a soldier anywhere in the world hits all of them like the loss of a good friend. This weekend I felt that sense of family, that draw and connection to someone who was a complete stranger. And I have no doubt that if I was inside that McDonald's when he came in and was given a moment of opportunity, I would have asked him about his life, about his uniform. I miss it. 
It's also not the first time this has happened to me recently. On the very same trip one of the parents was wearing a shirt much like the one I wore that day in the post office. I could't tell you what it said, but I could tell you it was distributed by the military. He was speaking to someone else in the line at Starbucks at the mall about the military, hilariously enough. When they had finished their conversation, I stepped in and asked him about his time in service and found out that he is in the reserves right now and just got back from a tour overseas. I automatically felt closer to this man. Still don't know his name, or really anything about him. But he feels like a part of a huge family that I was very much a part of, and some of me always will be. 
To my military friends, I say this: Don't give it up if you aren't absolutely certain you'll be able to live with the inescapable draw you'll have to military people that may cause you to regret your decision. And next time an older gentlemen approaches you and looks like he wants to sit and talk a spell, indulge him. Think of me and give him that connection he's looking for. 
To my non-military friends, I say this: You may not understand, but I know you've seen it to. Those men proudly donning their veteran baseball caps deserve your respect and so much more. Never pass up an opportunity to thank them.