Because of His great mercy,
Darren
2
The war might physically be in Iraq, yet it was being lived out all the way to the Turners’ home in Richmond Hill, Georgia.
Every day Heather strived to “fight the good fight.” She understood what this familiar term meant now, since it was so easy to fight a bad fight, or to not bother fighting in the first place.
She had a list of all the wives she had met and their children. She noted all those who had lost their husbands, and she kept a long list of prayer requests that she tried to look over regularly and pray about.
She had attended far too many memorials and shared far too many tears with those who had lost so much.
Heather’s unit were all the women who were waiting and wondering and hoping and praying every single day. And she told them something over and over again: “We wear combat patches too. But ours hang from our hearts.”
Whether it was filling a bowl of cereal or doing a load of laundry, the work around the house was endless. She balanced that with the kids’ homeschooling, with specific times in the morning and afternoon blocked off to sit down and help them read, write, and figure out problems. Elie and Sam were both involved in tennis lessons, and Meribeth was into everything, so the children kept her busy.
There were occasional photography jobs, but the big projects like the Christmas stockings took up more time than she initially realized. She would never tell Darren that, because she wanted and needed to help him in any way she could. Nothing she did could compare to what the soldiers were going through. But Heather reminded herself that her work was just as important.
Every day, she hoped not to hear the worst. She also hoped to hear from Darren.
3
The letters brightened Darren’s day and warmed his soul. A school in New York had mailed in letters from seventh graders, and so many of their comments made him laugh.
Dear Chaplin, I have no pets (don’t ask why), I’ve gone to Myrtle beach several times, and 3 people in my family are left-handed.
Dear Chaplain, This Halloween I might be an old man and my friend is going to be my wife, the old woman. My life isn’t all that exciting.
Dear Battalion I have a flour baby. Her name is Adagal. I think my Sience teacher hates me! Today we had a half day for NO reson.
And finally,
Dear Chaplain, Tomorrow we have a test. My brother skipped school. Haha! I laughed. My mom thought someone broke into the house today. She’s crazy. Okay. Bye.
Humor and laughter were some of the many things he had often taken for granted back home. With October there, he couldn’t help thinking about life back home during this time of year, his personal favorite. The cooling temps and changing colors of the leaves . . . Friday night football and the faint thumping of the high school marching band warming up . . . The smell of burning leaves and finding his favorite sweatshirt that smelled musty from its long summer sleep on the shelf.
Thinking about these things made Darren think about all the things he would never be able to get back. Meribeth’s first words and steps and vegetables. Sam’s karate lessons and learning his kicks that he thought he could beat him up with. Elie’s transition from little girl to bigger girl and her learning to love reading and art.
The level of heartache, homesickness, and frustration was truly indescribable, at least when he tried to sum it up on his CaringBridge site. He now truly understood why guys returning from the war went through what they did. They didn’t want to be called heroes. They just wanted to be called, but not too often. They wanted to be reintegrated to their life after the fog of war, and it always took time.
How long will it take me?
These men needed a new mission, something they could be a part of apart from battle. For believers, they needed a mission from God.
So many guys joined the military to be a part of something bigger than themselves, but many soon realized that being in the army didn’t scratch their itch. The guys Darren knew who were true believers had a distinctively lower amount of stress and negativity than those who didn’t share that faith.
In light of eternity, all of this is but a grain of sand on the seashore.
Yet some days he had to force himself to gain that perspective.
Darren knew that no matter what happened in Iraq, or on this earth, in the end God would win. Being on His team made the middle part not so bad, because he knew the ultimate turnout.
Darren shared this belief publicly and privately with the soldiers he met and interacted with. This was the hope he held out to them, day after day. Sorrow may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning!
So Darren continued to choose joy, every morning, noon, and night.
4
As another morning of stuffing Christmas stockings was nearly completed in the church gym, Heather noticed a pregnant woman step foot into the building, then look around and start to leave.
“Amanda,” Heather called out as she rushed over to her.
She hadn’t spoken to the young mother in a few weeks, and she’d wondered how things were going. Amanda was already five months pregnant.
“Oh, hey, you’re here,” Amanda said, sounding relieved to see her. “I hoped you would be, but I didn’t see you. I heard you still needed help with the Christmas stockings. I tried to get out here earlier—”
“Don’t you think your plate is already full?”
“I know. I just—I—Honestly, I just wanted to have a conversation about something other than Elmo.”
Heather laughed. “I hear you, girl! C’mon. I want you to meet someone.”
She was glad to finally introduce Tonya and Amanda to each other. The former’s been-there-done-that sort of attitude combined with her sense of humor was a nice change of pace for the latter’s uncertain and worn-down season of life. The three women soon found themselves talking around a table as they opened up bags of candy and separated them.
“I don’t know how I’m going to manage when this one comes,” Amanda said as she put her hands on the bulge she carried on her slight frame. “I’m barely hanging on right now with Alexis. She’s been taking her diaper off in the middle of the night. Then she pees herself, gets all wet, and wakes up crying. I got up to change her sheets three times last night. On top of getting up to pee two times myself!”
“Meribeth does the same thing! Put her in some footie jammies. She’ll never get to the diaper.”
Amanda shook her head and smiled. “Tried that. She’s like Houdini.”
“All I can say is I’m glad those days are behind me,” Tonya said with exaggerated eyes wide open. “I had nightmares my first year with the twins. I tried to nurse them at the same time and, well, let’s just say that I’m definitely no Houdini.”
“I’m sorry,” Amanda said. “Here I am complaining and you two already have more than me.”
Heather put her arm around the younger woman. “It’s not a competition, sweetie. Not a thing about this is easy, and as a single parent? It’s a whole new world of hard, and you’re getting it done.”
“That’s right,” Tonya confirmed with a knowing nod.
For a while they worked around the table in silence. Then Amanda said, “I miss his toes. Touching me under the covers at night.”
Tonya shook her head. “I don’t miss that. I got a thing about feet, girl.”
They laughed.
“I miss his laugh,” Amanda said.
Heather glanced over at Tonya, who gave her a knowing look back as she said, “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
5
October 24, 2007
I was out there the other day and couldn’t wait to write about this. Let me set the scene: Okay . . . first of all, these are infantry guys. If you don’t fully understand what that means, they are the “boots on the ground” of our military. As they say, “You’re either infantry, or you support infantry.” Ultimately, the infantry guys are the ones patrolling, arresting, or shooting bad
guys, and giving candy out to kids—all in the same day.
With this in mind, understand that they are very tired when they return from a mission and often forget (better yet, neglect) basic hygiene. Having worn an extra fifty pounds or so of body armor and patrolling for several hours and miles, you can imagine the number of calories they burn. There are times when I can count multiple sweat rings on their T-shirts. Like rings in a tree trunk, you can tell how many days an infantryman has had that shirt on by the number of dried, salt-white sweat rings. And the smell of that house when they get back from an all-day sweaty mission . . . it will untwist your DNA! They come in, laugh about it, and wipe their muddy sweat on each other and everything they touch. Often times I greet them coming in and get slimed once or twice. I’m just glad to see them all make it back safe. That alone is worth it.
Ah yes . . . this is my church, my congregation! As an army chaplain, this is my flock. And these are your sons, daughters, dads, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews . . . I can’t imagine anyone else being with these guys at this time. I would be jealous.
God bless!
Darren
THE SEVENTH MONTH
1
November 4, 2007
Hey, folks! Another fine day here in Iraq. Cool evenings, down into the lower fifties. Highs during the day are mideighties. I never thought it’d come. I’m currently at another location for a few days, at a chaplains’ retreat. The units in-country that have had a tough time, unit ministry teams were invited to this retreat. It’s a time to get away, relax, pray, and fellowship with other guys in the same boat.
I had no idea how many people know of our battalion. When I told them I was from 1–30th Infantry Battalion, they were like, “Oh, wow. We’ve heard of you guys. Y’all have had a tough time.” It was an awkward reverence, kind of a hushed respect. It was humbling, but I was reminded just how fierce of a summer it has been for us.
Man, it’s nice here . . . It’s at one of the “super FOBs” in-country (very large base with lots of amenities). I had Taco Bell last night for dinner . . . with sweet tea! They also have a Pizza Hut, an indoor pool, and a huge movie theater. My room has a double bed and a TV. I watched NFL all night last night. Very surreal. It’s a former Iraqi air base. Saddam used to come here to watch his military in action. Oh yeah, and if you messed up while he was here, bye-bye (in the worst kind of way)! But they had nice facilities, and when we took over, we kept them nice. It’s a totally different existence here. I almost feel embarrassed, as our base and patrol bases are so far removed from this kind of living. Here they rarely get mortared or shot at on patrols. I’m trying not to be judgmental when I hear conversations in the dining facility about he said, she said—knowing others would give their left toe to live like this. But . . . I count it a blessing just to get to spend a few days here and live almost like a king. I probably won’t tell my guys too much about it, though. I think they’d be a little angry.
My guys are doing well as a whole. Our sector is still doing amazingly well on the battlefield, but there are pockets of trouble on another front. We’ve been here almost six months now. More than a few guys will be getting their divorces finalized after going home. Home-front issues are really becoming a problem for many. A chaplain friend of mine told me once that deployments strengthen strong marriages and weaken weak ones. That is so true. The long deployments affect much more than just the soldier. And the kids involved . . . It hurts to hear these guys talk about a family falling apart. I try to encourage them and challenge them to do the right thing, especially for their kids, and to ultimately look in the mirror and stop blaming everyone else. Pray for our families. They are hurting and suffering too. Pray also for reconciliation between disgruntled soldiers and their lonely spouses, tasked with being both mom and dad. There’s almost two wars going on: here and there.
Because of His great mercy,
Darren
2
The latest photos on their family website were from Halloween, though it was now two weeks later. Darren hadn’t seen them until now, so it was a reminder he needed to get online to see the photos more than he did. He smiled seeing Sam in his armor, holding a sword and ready to attack, and Elie posing so pretty as an angel. Then in his mind he saw the closed eyes of the dead girl in his arms, lifeless and unmoving, and beautiful at the same time.
Whoa. Shake it off.
The image wouldn’t leave him alone. He forced himself to continue looking at the pictures, seeing Meribeth in her pink camouflage onesie, with so much hair already. Underneath her picture was the following caption: Kids dress up for Dad—praying for U!
Elie posed by her countdown, with five months Xed out but so many more left to go. Darren groaned, looking away from the computer monitor.
A truck drove by in the distance, and images battered him again, surrounding and smothering with their memories. Lance shouting from the truck and handing him the deceased girl. The father pleading for help, seeing his daughter in Darren’s arms.
Those cries. Those awful cries.
The bomb blasts late at night and the dirt raining on Shonda and him in the base. Those soldiers coming in, stinking and dirty and tired and needing some kind of hope. The faces absent of any emotion, just empty. Fear wasn’t the worst thing out here. It was apathy.
The sound of footsteps nearby broke his wandering thoughts.
“Starting to see a pattern here, Chaplain,” Shonda said, noticing the pictures on his laptop. “I leave, you either make silly photos or you look at them in silence, and so it goes.”
“Yeah,” Darren said, coming back down to reality. “Man, how much can you miss someone? Times three?”
“Don’t look now, but the chaplain might need a pep talk of his own right now. Whose job is that?”
Good question.
It was one he hadn’t figured out quite yet.
“Maybe later. Right now, the seat’s yours.”
Darren stood up and moved the video camera on its tripod so it faced a chair he had positioned by the side of his desk. He’d been waiting for Shonda to show up today.
“What do you mean? What’s up?”
“Special assignment,” Darren said as he handed her a kid’s book.
She looked at the copy of I Love You This Much in disbelief. “How’d you get this?”
“Who cares? You said it’s Colby’s favorite.”
She opened the book and began thumbing through it, turning each page as gently as though she was holding her son’s hand. Darren could tell she remembered the story fondly.
“I’ll upload it so your mom can play it for him, but right now I’m headed out,” Darren said. “Just hit record on the remote and read to your boy.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Shonda said, sitting down on the chair as if she were light-headed and needed a moment.
“Just take it from one who’s done it badly,” he said. “Don’t just read; pretend he’s sitting right there in your lap. ’Cuz to him, when your mom plays it, he’ll feel like he is.”
He left Shonda alone, then stood outside the door and waited until she finally began to start talking to the camera.
“Hi, Colby! Momma misses you so much, my boy. And I love you more than anything in the whole wide world . . . So I want to read you a story. It’s one we both know.”
There was a pause, and Darren knew Shonda was composing herself, probably holding back the tears.
“‘When you arise . . . with sleepy eyes, my smiling face you see . . .’”
As he walked away, Darren imagined what it would be like for Colby to see his momma on the television reading to him. He imagined the boy jumping up and down and talking to the screen, telling his mother he loved her.
It was a good reminder that he needed to tell a few people he loved them too.
3
Heather was having one of those days. Perhaps there was a full moon tonight, or maybe the kids had gotten into some treats without her knowing. But all day long, she had
been putting out little fires. And she knew the primary cause of death from indoor fires wasn’t the flames themselves, but the smoke inhalation. She felt like she was choking on it as she made dinner and the telephone rang.
Lord, please don’t let it be him.
The thought wasn’t a selfish one. She wanted to talk to Darren, but now wasn’t a good time. Meribeth sat in her high chair, half of her baby food covering her bib while the rest of it hung on her face and in her hair. She usually liked applesauce, but tonight she acted as if it was a new toy they just got at the store. Since Tonya and the girls were coming over in half an hour—actually, more like twenty minutes—and she had decided to make her homemade meatballs and spaghetti sauce, she had both burners on the stove going full blast while a loaf of cut-up garlic bread heated in the oven.
“Hello?” she said as she slipped the cordless between her ear and shoulder.
“Hey, babe. How’s it going?”
“Oh, good. It’s crazy. Tonya and the twins are coming over for dinner tonight, so—I’m glad you’re calling.”
There was a slight pause, as if he was waiting for her to say something. Or maybe thinking about what to say. She checked the bread just to make sure it wasn’t burning.
“I was checking out our site,” Darren said. “I noticed you hadn’t updated photos lately.”
She made a puzzled expression, as if he were there in person to see it. “Well, it didn’t seem like you had time to look at them, so . . .”
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