“So . . . did I sound okay out there today?” he asked.
Her look said, We have more important things to think about, Chaplain.
“Sorry,” he continued. “I just—I used to be on staff at a church. Now that I’m here, I sure don’t want to sound like I’m in a pulpit, or nobody will come around.”
“Just leave that box of snacks on your desk. Word will travel and they’ll come.”
Brilliant suggestion.
He remembered the package she had opened earlier that morning.
“Think I caught a glimpse of your delivery today. Looked familiar.”
She smiled and nodded, then pulled the small Bible from her vest, stuffing it back there just as quickly.
“Mom told me to bring it,” she said. “Apparently she went into my nightstand to make sure.”
“Ahhhh. One of those moms who loves her daughter, huh.”
“More like one who thinks getting me back on track is her job, not mine.”
Even though he’d only known her for a few days, he already liked the no-nonsense attitude of Sergeant Peterson.
“You? Offtrack? Sure had me fooled.”
The sudden steady thumping of rounds bouncing off the vehicle made Darren grab his helmet and duck even though there was no need to do either. He noticed how the two men in the front didn’t react, how their expressions remained the same: steady, alert, and unimpressed.
“You on that, Blaylock?” Sergeant Carter bellowed out as he maneuvered the vehicle.
Corporal Scott Blaylock replied by unleashing the .50-caliber rounds, making Darren recoil again from its thundering sound that cut right through him. The gunner moved to hit his target, first firing at their nine o’clock, then their eight and their seven as they quickly moved past the enemy.
Carter looked back for a second, a grin on his lips. “Guess that’s a yes.”
Blaylock swiveled the gun back to the front of the Stryker as Darren slowly sat back in his seat, his eyes on the narrow slits of light coming from the outside. For a while, none of them spoke, as they moved past the remaining buildings in town and then headed back out into the desert.
8
The heat and the steady motion and the rolling desert berms outside all did their best to lull them asleep, but the soldiers on this convoy needed to remain alert at all times. Darren already appreciated them more now than ever before. As he sat in silence, Shonda’s sudden admission surprised him.
“I have a son,” she said.
“Wait—what?” Darren tried to hide his look of surprise. “I mean, that’s amazing. He must be amazing.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because . . . they all are.”
Every wall she seemed determined to build kept being knocked over by Darren’s earnest and open attitude. She let out a sigh, then pulled the small Bible back out and opened it up to find the photo.
“This is Colby,” she said as she handed him the snapshot.
“Handsome little guy. You talked to him yet, since—?”
“He’s three,” she stated without emotion. “Not much of a talker yet.”
“At three my Sam wasn’t either. Then all of a sudden, complete sentences. And he hasn’t stopped talking since.”
A thought dawned on him of the reality of his statement.
Colby might start talking and she won’t be there to hear it.
Before he could add to it, another barrage of gunfire erupted in the near distance. This time he remained upright and didn’t flinch. Darren gave her the photo back.
“So . . . he take after you or his father?”
Shonda chuckled. “You mean the guy who saw the double lines on the pregnancy test, left, and never looked back? That man? No. He doesn’t get that title.”
So there’s where some of this is coming from.
“And no, he wasn’t my husband,” Shonda quickly added. “So save the lecture. Momma’s got you covered.”
“I stopped lecturing after working with college students,” he half joked, once again trying to soften the tone.
“I can hear my momma preaching at me right now, and she’s thousands of miles away.”
“Bottom line, Colby is a gift from God. That’s all that matters now.”
She nodded, then turned to him. “It was long. But you sounded fine.”
Darren wasn’t following.
“Your prayer,” she answered. “You asked how you did. It was long but fine. You sounded like you cared.”
He nodded, happy to know the sergeant’s thoughts.
Good to see her opening up. Even just a bit.
9
“I posted some new pictures online. Showing off the daily life. You’ll see our tents and the blast walls around us.”
Heather listened on the telephone as Darren shared about the last couple of days and how it was to have gone out on a patrol, away from their sector. He sounded more animated than usual, so she let him continue without giving him an update on the home front.
“I conducted a memorial ceremony for one of our guys who died back home from cancer. He didn’t deploy with us, but we still honored him as a soldier in our unit.”
“So you must have done a lot to prepare for it,” she said, knowing all that went into something like this, from planning and coordinating to rehearsing and supervising the event.
“It went off without a hitch,” Darren told her. “It was incredible to hear what the guys had to say about their lost brother.”
She remembered what Darren had once told her about memorials like this, how they had to be flawless. Mistakes could be tolerated in some areas of army life, but not in this. Every soldier deserved the best, and Darren felt honored to be a part of something so sacred.
He shared how they had been getting ready for their upcoming missions, meaning there was a lot of meeting and planning and strategy-making.
“Sometimes I even get to chime in,” he said. “About how ‘this’ might affect ‘that.’ It’s like playing real-life Stratego.”
“That’s always been one of your favorites.”
“So how are things? I’ve already talked too much. Fill me in.”
There was so much to tell and so little time, and suddenly she drew a blank except to say: “Our toilet got backed up again. Took me an hour to unplug it.”
A thousand things, and I’m telling him about the clogged commode.
“Do you want to call a plumber?”
“No. Not after I worked on it for that long.” She paused and gathered her thoughts. “Elie and Sam can’t wait for camp. Sam’s been doing ‘training exercises’ as if he’s being sent to boot camp.”
“I can’t wait to hear how they like it.”
“I put some new photos on our website,” Heather said. “You’ll especially like the one of Meribeth.”
“I can’t wait to see them. I hope you put some of yourself up as well.”
“Yes, I think I’ve managed a few. Just because I know you’re requesting them.”
“They won’t compare to seeing you in person, but they’ll have to do.”
She heard the trampling of four feet heading her way and knew their moment was almost finished.
“Be careful,” she told him before letting Elie talk to him.
She didn’t always need to tell him she loved him. Darren knew.
10
Darren sat alone at the table in the commons area, scrolling through photos on his laptop while wolfing down the plate of chicken and potatoes. Each new picture energized him a little more, filling his exhausted spirit with more life. He could hear Sam giving a loud chopping sound in his karate class, could imagine Elie twirling in her princess costume for her dance recital, could smell Meribeth’s skin as she grinned behind a bundle of towels after bath time. There were photos of them laughing on the trampoline and making funny pictures in the kitchen and, yes, there were even some shots of Heather with the kids. But Darren had to pause for a moment and hold back the emotion as he saw the s
napshots that Heather had told him he’d especially enjoy.
In one, Meribeth stood, a gleam in her pretty blue eyes, her mouth open as if to say Aha! Then in the next, her arms were up in the air as if she was balancing herself. Then he could see it—one foot in front of the next, then another, then her back to the camera as she wobbled ahead. Another shot showed her peeking around, delighted in taking her first few steps. Finally, it showed her toppling over, laughing and overcome with joy.
These were the battle wounds he would be forced to endure. The shots he had to take, realizing the moments like these that he was missing.
There’s a reason why I’m missing them. I can never forget that.
As he glanced up to the sky to fight the wave of emotion, he noticed Michael walking toward him with a tray of food. Seeing Darren, he veered off to another table and sat down. Darren decided that Michael wasn’t going to get off that easily, so he shut his laptop and took it and his half-eaten dinner over to the major.
“Neighbor,” Darren said, nodding his head to greet him. “Mind if I join you?”
Michael gave him the same indifferent look he had offered the day he came over to their party.
“Would it matter if I said yes?”
Darren didn’t let it bother him in the least. He paused for a moment, then put his tray next to Michael’s.
“Then again, you look hungry,” he said. “I didn’t touch my potatoes. Enjoy.”
The chaplain left Michael behind, only turning around once and noticing him digging into the extra helping. He knew that this wall his neighbor had built didn’t always have to be so tall and so fortified. Darren didn’t want to tear it down; he simply wanted to build a gate that occasionally would open. One that didn’t require a lock and a key.
A couple of hours later, he was surprised to see Michael again. Darren was shooting hoops on the makeshift basketball court. A floodlight lit up the twenty-foot concrete perimeter wall where the backboard rested. It was a good workout, moving and shooting and rebounding as he sweated a few pounds off in the heat.
Just as Michael walked up beside the court to watch him, Darren fired off a three-pointer, drilling it.
“So where’d you play?” Michael asked while Darren went to retrieve the ball.
“Just high school,” Darren said as he continued to dribble. “But it’s always just been—one of my places.” He made another shot. “No matter where you are, there’s a hoop just around the corner.”
He remembered Michael occasionally bringing the basketball out and shooting hoops himself back home, so he knew the major was itching to play a round—in spite of the man’s forced frown.
He really wants to dislike me, but I’m not gonna let him.
“Three for three?” Darren asked, jumping and shooting.
The ball bounced off the metal rim, right toward Michael. He scooped it up, dribbled as naturally as he might breathe, then launched a shot with form and ease. Darren wasn’t surprised to see the swish, and ran over to get the rebound.
“So I talked to my family the other day,” he said.
“Yeah?” Michael looked more interested in the basketball he dribbled.
“Sounds like mine and yours have been hanging out quite a bit.”
“Great.”
“You called home yet?”
Echoes of the ball dribbling on the concrete bounced back at them.
“I got the feelin’ you already know the answer to that question, Chaps,” Michael said, bounce-passing the ball back to him.
Clutching the ball in his hands for the moment, Darren walked closer to Michael.
“Sounds like Tonya would really love to hear from you,” he said.
Michael shook his head, a defensive, almost scornful look on his face. “What’s your deal, man?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is messin’ around in other people’s lives part of your job description or something?”
Darren appeared to hesitate and think for a minute, the amusement coloring his face. “I mean, kinda.”
“Man, my marriage is none of your business. You don’t know a thing about me, or about my family.”
No, but God does, brother. God sees it all.
All Darren wanted to do was help Michael and all the others at the camp know that very fact.
The major looked ready to strike any minute. There was such rage inside of him.
Darren had an idea.
“I know your family loves you,” he said as he took out his satellite phone and handed it to him. “Most of all, they just wanna hear it back.”
“Oh, you know that, do you? Let me ask you something, Chaps. You ever seen fear? In your own kids’ eyes? Trust me. They don’t want to hear from me.”
Darren wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I just don’t believe that. I don’t.”
Michael’s laughter mocked him. “Okay,” he said and started to walk off.
Then he paused and turned back around, the fight still unable to leave his soul.
“You know what? Let me tell you how it really works, Chaps. See, you haven’t been to Iraq before, so you don’t know what it’s like to come home. You aren’t ever going to be the same—and neither will that picture-perfect marriage you probably think you have. Stay outta my business, man.”
His long boots began to make their way off the concrete, but Darren moved behind him, refusing to give up. Refusing to let Michael dictate the terms of their relationship.
“Tell you what,” he called out. “You call. They hang up? I’ll never bother you again.”
Michael stopped and turned. “That a promise?”
Warriors like to be challenged. Darren understood this. He’d fallen victim to it many times. The fire inside a man’s heart was put there by God, but John Eldredge added something to this fact: The way we handle the heart is everything.
Darren nodded as he approached the major, still offering him the phone.
Michael finally took it, looking frustrated to have lost the initial battle. As he dialed, Darren casually picked up the basketball and continued to dribble and shoot. A few moments later, he heard Michael’s surprised and softened tone.
“T? . . . It’s me . . .”
11
May 21, 2007
I have been away for a few days, joining my guys for some training out in the desert. I can’t say enough good about our soldiers! As much as they want to get the bad guys, they also are compassionate for innocent people, particularly kids. They train hard not to hurt the good folks in Iraq. I have been thoroughly impressed with your US Army! They are truly heroes in my book. Tender warriors.
On another note, my time with them during some rough training allowed me to just hang out and get to know them. I’ve had some fantastic conversations! A couple of guys asked me if God would let them into heaven if they have killed people. Wow! A chaplain’s dream question! We talked about King David and the apostle Paul. Both of them had killed, and God saved both in the end after their repentance (not necessarily from killing, but from not having God on the throne of their hearts). War is a tough subject, especially in questions about God and war. I won’t elaborate, but God has, and does, sanction war (not all wars, but certainly ones against truly evil people). Another soldier, in his own words, “misses someone who isn’t there.” He is tired of living just for himself and wants to know how to find a good wife. Another good conversation we had right there in the hot sands.
That’s about it for now. Thanks for your continued prayers and support. Homesickness is hitting me now. Hearing the kids on the phone has been great, but not the same as squeezing them on my recliner at home! Yet I’m glad and honored to be here. Please pray for our base in Iraq. There are definitely some bad people around here. God bless you.
Darren
THE SECOND MONTH
1
June 22, 2007
Hey, folks! I’m back at the main base now, having just returned from another visit to the patrol base. I stayed f
our days this time, and it was again great. We held two church services and had good responses both times. Every day is Sunday here, so it’s not a big deal to have church on Tuesday morning at nine or ten and another one Wednesday at nine or ten in the evening. Basically, I look at the “battle rhythm” and find out when most guys will be coming in from patrols. That is the window of time I shoot for, regardless of day or hour.
I had more very significant conversations with some of the guys. One wondered who the woman was in the garden of Eden before Adam and Eve . . . sounds like some New Age stuff, but we really didn’t talk about her too much. He was, however, interested in the different theories of the Resurrection. Everything from “it was a look-alike” to “Jesus just fell asleep and didn’t really die.” Nothing is off limits, so we talk about all kinds of stuff. I always end up pointing them back to Scripture, and challenging them to either find it true or not. Research it, hold it up at all kinds of angles and look at it, read it, read about it, do what you must—but you have to decide, is it real or not? That’s the bottom line. If it’s not, then I am most foolish of all to believe and to come to combat on a false pretense. What a waste. But if it is true, and of course I believe it is, then all the horrors and the bombs in the world can’t take away the fact of the gospel, and the hope it offers for all who choose to believe and follow.
It is getting better around here. We are capturing or killing a lot of bad guys, and “peace” is slowly becoming more of a reality. We’re not done by a long shot, but there are fewer attacks by the bad guys, and neighborhoods seem to be growing more safe. I hope it’s really working and not just a lull for the bad guys to regroup . . .
Darren
2
Freedom Park on a sunny day was the ideal setting for taking family portraits. The hills were dotted with trees and the grounds were well kept, the grass always thick and green. Heather was glad they were able to enjoy the park as a family before Darren left for Iraq. Now she came here often, either to bring the kids outside to play, or sometimes to work at her part-time job as a professional photographer. Today she was doing both.
As Sam and Elie entertained Meribeth nearby on a blanket, Heather gave directions for poses to the Collers, a cute young family of four. Luke practiced in family medicine, while Marci was a very busy mother with their three-year-old daughter and year-old son. Avery already had mastered her toddler smile, while Ben looked at Heather in wide-eyed wonder while his parents took turns holding him. They wore combinations of white and blue that matched the sky and clouds above them. As Heather took multiple shots, she already knew there were some definite keepers.
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