“The right words can change the world,” a tiny four-year-old voice called out from the back seat of my truck. My eyes instantly filled with tears at such insight. Such innocence. And such love.
It stuck with me, and as I sit here, trying to find the right words, I only find myself confused. And muddled. And at a complete loss. But needing desperately to speak.
As we enter a new phase of our wars and our military life, one that offers hope and reflection as well as new goodbyes and memories of loss, the air feels thick.
As I walk on post, I can feel it.
In my own home, I sense it.
Over the phone, in the long pregnant pauses, I hear it.
Swirling around us is an unsettled fog, the overwhelming feeling of “What now?”
Part of me wants to let my hair down the slightest bit. I want to begin to take stock of what has happened to my family in rapid succession. The other part warns me, “Not yet. There is more to come.”
At first, that uncertainty frightened me. What more could come? How much more “unknowing” can we stand.
Anger began to flood my mind as reporters began to call, wanting to film my reunion. Wanting to know my thoughts on the “end” of the Iraq war. And infuriating me because 50,000 seemed to get lost in the conversation.
“I am happy to know we may have more time together, but, with so many still going to Iraq, I fear the support for them will wane when a public thinks no one is there. Watching. Protecting. Serving. Those families are still saying goodbye. We can’t forget them.”
The silence that followed stunned me. “I had no idea,” he said. And many others echoed.
Then, as my husband began to consider all that had happened to him, trying to put Iraq to bed, anger overtook me as I watched his mind begin to catch up to his body. We aren’t “supposed” to be dealing with deployment number two after deployment number three. I felt blindsided.
But how could it all unfold linearly? None of this has been linear. So much has been repressed in order to perform. By all of us.
And I fear that confusion, that anger, that fear of the unknown may take control of our military society.
And then that voice, that sweet angelic voice rolls over my ears, through my body. “The right words can change the world.”
As I begin to process all that has happened and all that is yet to come, I’m not sure what those words are. I have no idea how to form them, and have no pretty metaphors to push and pull to make them dance over your tongue and swirl through your mind.
The only thing I know for certain is this: We must keep searching for those words. As a community, we must keep talking. Keep listening. And keep moving.
Sitting in the anger, the confusion, the fear, the unknown will eat us alive.
Like an orchid in a desert, we thrive despite reason. There is no shame in anger. No blame in confusion. No ignorance in questioning.
But it is the search for the words. The desire to learn, change, evolve and share what we know in order to uplift and help another. That will change our world.
…Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. ..
…Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.” Dr. Maya Angelou
