Make a Merry Christmas

Christmas approaches! In a way, the timing is pretty good for all of us over here in Hot and Sandy Land I think, because after having been deployed now for the better part of a year, one doesn't have to look too hard to find signs of wear on everybody's psyche. So some positivity is in order. On a personal level, Christmas is one of my favorite times of year, so being away from Michelle and the kids will be especially hard, but I'm determined to make the best of it. And good news! You can help!
Here's what I'm doing: Michelle has sent me enough stockings for each of my pilot friends to have one. Another pilot friend of mine's wife sent him enough stockings for each of the maintenance guys that fix our helicopters to have one. Now we just need to stuff them. I thought about asking for people to send boxes of stuff for that purpose, but there would be a couple of problems with that. First of all, the stockings are going to be a surprise for everybody, so me receiving a large number of boxes might tip people off. Also, there would be plenty of shipping costs. Then there's the issue of mail occasionally getting delayed unexpectedly. So, I've decided to ask that if you are interested in helping me make Christmas a little more bearable for the guys in my unit that you send a monetary contribution by Paypal to: m_macton (AT) hotmail (dotcom). Obviously, replace the @ sign and the .com to make a regular email address. They have a PX here that will have plenty of stuff for stuffing, so I'll take whatever moneys I can gather and get various and sundry items from there.
If you can help, really, any amount would be helpful. I'm not going to break the bank here, but there are about 60 people or so that I'd like to fill stockings for. And no amount is too big either!!! If you haven't used Paypal before, don't worry you can send money without creating an account just by going to http://www.paypal.com/, clicking on "Send Money" and using some sort of credit card. I don't use the Paypal account for anything else at the moment, so I will know what it's for.
I feel like my focusing on somebody other than myself will be good for me not only because it's an appropriate expression of the Reason for the Season, but because it'll take my mind off of my current situation, all for a good cause. If you would consider helping to make that happen, that would be awesome. Thanks! And please feel free to pass this on to anybody you think might be interested in helping.

Home for the Holidays

Three birthdays and one major winter holiday without Marc down, two other major winter holidays, an anniversary and possibly one more birthday to go. We are spending the holidays at home (which is what I have come to call Nashville, TN), and I think it is the best possible scenario right now. That's not to say we would not treasure time with extended family, but the allure of dear friends, church, our own beds, our little fake Christmas tree, and zero driving hours (among other things) is great enough to tip the scales. I know certain aunties are disappointed, and maybe even an uncle or grandparent too, but I know they love us and try to understand.

Today I sent Marc a box full of Christmas cheer to add to his scores of lights that he is preparing to hang in, on, and around his CHU (and possibly even underneath, if it comes to that!). Before the week is out, I will send his Christmas present which I planned to wrap but realize he will know what it is as soon as he reads the customs form! Oh well. I guess it is the thought, right? He is intensely nosy and would have no doubt opened it before Christmas Day anyway. People keep reminding me that the end is getting closer, and I often reply that it is quite impossible for it to get any farther. And for that, I am thankful.

A Day in the Life

Aside from Marc's unit, we know several other families with husbands/fathers who are deployed. This movie was filmed by Jerry Dickerson, a med-evac pilot stationed in Afghanistan (flying the same aircraft that Marc flies). His family, Kristen (wife), Sarah and Emily (6y/o and 2y/o), are awaiting his return to Savannah, GA in about a year. (Please do not be alarmed by the video saying that a virus is detected! It is just part of the production. (: )

New Address

We have been waiting for the official go ahead to release information (sounds really top secret, right?). Marc has moved to another post (still in Iraq). Please see his updated address below.

CW2 Acton, Marc E.

Trp D, 1-230th ACS
FOB Sykes
APO, AE 09351

Meet Me Halfway

The end of September marked the official halfway point in the deployment. Six months down, six to go. I guess it should feel like a joyous accomplishment, but I'm having a little trouble mustering the half-full mentality. Over the last six months, I have become well-acquainted with the challenges I will face for the next six months. I often remind myself that our struggles are not unique, and others face far more difficult circumstances. Then the glass appears overflowing. And it is! The kids are coping incredibly well. We are blessed with regular communication with Marc while he remains safe. Our personal relationship continues to grow, even when "restricted" to typing over a chat. God is good. And He is faithful. He will be faithful and good for the next six months. And even after that.

Heroes At Home

I actually wrote this song while I was in Alabama, but it's pretty fitting at the moment, so I thought I'd share it with all of you.

"Heroes At Home"

It's time for bedtime prayers
For a boy who wonders where
His daddy's gone
And if he'll be back soon.
His trusting, faithful heart
Knows that God will do His part
But he still wonders
If he'll see him soon.

Right now his dad's a soldier far away
But he waits and prays for the day that he can say

His hero's at home
No longer alone.
In the safety of his loving arms
Free from danger and
Safe from harm.
Right where he belongs
Day by day the proud son prays
For God to bring his hero home.


It's dinner time again
And a mother tries to win
The battle between her and
Two wild horses.
Their daddy's been away
For far too many days.
And each night that she lays awake
Is harder for her heart to take.

Her lover's just a soldier far away
But she waits and prays for the day that she can say

Her hero's at home
No longer alone.
In the safety of her loving arms
Free from danger and
Safe from harm.
Right where he belongs
Night and day this woman prays
For God to bring her hero home.

All the while,
Far away,
The hero fights a war but knows
Even though fear never shows
When life seems that it's going wrong
The only thing that keeps him moving on

Are his heroes at home.
His son who waits and prays at night
His wife whose touch will
Make things right
Even when he's all alone
Each day the soldier stops and prays
That God will speed
This hero home
No longer alone
To the safety of their loving arms
Free from danger and
Safe from harm
Right where he belongs

Every day the proud son prays
Night and day the mother prays
For God to bring this hero home.

Busy Bee

I've been busy for the last week. In the last seven days I have worked approximately 65 hours without any days off and flown a total of just under 20. They told me today that I have an unscheduled day off tomorrow. When they told me, my first thought was, "Sweet, I get to sleep in." My second thought was, "Dang, I don't get to fly tomorrow."

I think I might stick with this flying thing. It seems to suit me.

A few recent highlights

A few things I've been up to lately:

1. Averaged 4-5 flights a week, at around 4-5 hours each. Longest flight so far has been 7 hours straight.

2. Spent an evening watching a band on a USO tour. Band was nothing special, but were decent, and made for a fun evening. The drummer is also the drummer for System of a Down if you know who they are.

3. Trying not to eat too much. Occasional boredom is the worst thing here when not working, and I do love eating. It's sometimes hard not to eat 3 really big meals a day, as they're always available at the all-you-can-eat chow halls. So far I'm winning the war and have lost about 10 pounds, but it's a constant battle.

4. Talking to Michelle and the kids. Having internet access here has been awesome, as I've been able to Skype with Michelle most days. It's been a little bit harder to find time now that I'm flying regularly, but hopefully soon I'll get internet in my room. Haven't talked to Wesley as much, now that he's in SCHOOL! Missing his first day was the first real missed milestone and was not fun to deal with personally.

Here are a couple pictures of me before my very first flight here.

What I've Been Doing The Last Few Weeks

When you're a pilot and you join a new unit, there's a process you have to go through called RL (Readiness Level) Progression. Basically, you have to prove to the Instructor Pilots (IP's) in the new unit that you are capable of performing all of the maneuvers you might be required to perform in a mission, so while you're going through RL Progression you fly only with IP's and during flights you go through all basic maneuvers. This would include different kinds of landings/takeoffs (rolling landing, single engine landings, minimum power takeoffs, etc), practicing emergency procedures, and doing things like operating radios. You could compare RL Progression to being on a sort of probation. So that's what I've been doing since I got here in Kirkuk.

Unfortunately, progressing me has not been a priority for the unit. The IP's are all mission pilots as well, so they have only been able to fly me when there are no missions and when we have the aircraft and mechanics available. It's been kind of a slow process and somewhat frustrating. If I'm going to leave my family to get deployed, I don't want to be just sitting around doing nothing, which I have been doing a lot of through this process, having flown maybe once a week on average, for only an hour or two at a time.

The good news is, as of this week I'm officially RL1, which means I'm done with the RL Progression. Over the last 3 days I have flown 3 missions and racked up a whopping 16 hours of flight time, which is more than the whole month that it took me to progress. Because eligibility for civilian (or military, for that matter) flying jobs are predominantly based on flying hours, accruing a ton of hours was one of my goals for this deployment. With that in mind, this is a trend that I hope continues!

Goodnight Moon

I have a thing for the moon...and the stars too, really. I first realized my love for the night sky at age 13 when I visited Haiti for the first time. Being a city girl, I had never before experienced darkness of such intensity. I remember lying on the ground, gazing up at a multitude of stars I had never seen. If there is anything I love more than a starry night, it is a full moon. Perfectly round piercing brightness that penetrates my soul. There is a feeling of connectedness. We are all under the same moon. On nights like these, I look up and imagine Marc seeing the same moon. The distance loses some of its power. I love you to the moon and back, Babe!

A New Meaning For the Term "Spiritual Warfare"

This morning I got to attend my first chapel service here on FOB* Warrior (as an indicator of the relative oddity of the experience, I will tell you that it took me a minute or two just now to decide whether to call it a "Church" service or religious service, or what). It was weird and somewhat unsettling, and yet simultaneously oddly peaceful.

First, you should know that the U.S. military is actually very pro-religion. Almost every single official military function (even those primarily designed as an excuse to partake of the grog bowl - see the description of "Violations of etiquette" under wikipedia's Dining In entry) has a chaplain say a prayer at the start. There are multiple chaplains on every post or base and you even find chaplains deployed in the field with ground pounding infantry units. Even in Basic Training we were issued a Bible and encouraged to “practice our religion.” As soldiers, we are often encouraged to seek out chaplains when faced with tough personal circumstances or mounting stress. Is all that spiritual encouragement because the top military brass are concerned for their soldiers' spiritual well-being? Maybe. But it's also because it makes soldiers into better killers.

Almost without exception, the job of every Army soldier is either to kill the enemy, to help others do a better job of killing the enemy, or to protect those who are killing the enemy. Even the Medical Corps' ultimate purpose is to maintain or return to health those who do the killing, to maximize our "force potential." That's the unfortunate nature of what an Army does. The bottom line is that even in a peace-keeping mission, which is basically what Iraq has become, we keep said peace primarily by demonstrating and strategically exercising our ability to kill.

For example, my job as a Blackhawk helicopter pilot in a lift unit is to move people and supplies around the battlefield. We are here to "maintain the force," affording safe passage to those in harms' way and those who bring harms' way to others. Ground convoys are one of the deadliest ways to travel in Iraq, but travel by air is exceptionally safe. At first glance, then, you might label my unit's mission as being a life-saver and to a certain extent you'd be right. But the big-picture, ultimate end state of my mission goes further than the maintenance of life, to the preservation of the lives of friendlies in order to maintain their potential to cause damage to the enemy.

So where does religion fit in to the Army's mission to kill (or at the very least to have the ability to kill)?

Many years ago, the Army discovered that a happy soldier is a better soldier. Just like any civilian, the more mentally and physically fit a soldier is, the better he will perform, no matter what his job. Over decades of experience, it was also determined that for many, spiritual well-being can often be an indicator of wellness. Essentially, as the soul goes, so goes the soldier. Cue the chaplains. Part preacher, part pastor, part counselor, the chaplain's job is not so much to win souls as to minister to them. Which brings me back to this morning's kind-of-weirdness.

The service itself could have been transplanted from any small-ish Midwestern Protestant church service. There are several worship styles available throughout the week ranging from "Gospel" and "Liturgical" to "Muslim," but the service I chose to attend was labeled "Contemporary Christian," so I pretty much knew what to expect in the way of doctrine: basic, non-confrontational, often-generic but still specifically-Biblical teaching, and I wasn't disappointed there. The building was fairly generic as well, with concrete floors (not nearly as unusual here in-country as it would be at home), normal church-like chairs, and a regular old pulpit. The pastor was a reasonably well-spoken guy, generally likable, and entirely unobjectionable. Even the music felt familiar. The worship team is made up of well-meaning volunteers, and according to one of the singers I talked to afterwards is sort of team-led, with no real leader. My new worship-team acquaintance was also probably accurate when he qualified it as "combat worship," which might be a good description of the whole experience. Maybe the weirdness can be explained best by calling it "Combat Church." This is where the experience departs from the norm.

First of all, and probably most glaring is the presence of numerous firearms, as at least half of the "congregation" is strapped. I will just say, had Armageddon come and had Satan's minions been susceptible to small arms fire, there were at least enough nine-millimeter pistols and fully-automatic machine guns to defend that little House of God for a fair piece (or peace?). Second is the near-complete lack of fellowship. While looking around, I did see a few polite hugs during the obligatory welcome-time between those who were obviously familiar with each other, and I did share some brief pleasantries with another guy that I sort of knew from my unit, but other than that it felt less like a church family and more like a collection of individuals all attending the same mandatory spiritual training session. Along with those major weirdness factors, there were a few minor oddities that contributed to the whole experience too, like the fact that like nearly all buildings on FOB Warrior all the windows were blacked out to make the building less of a target for mortars at night, or the fact that everybody was wearing one of two types of clothing - either the standard issue physical training uniform of black shorts and grey T-shirt (with shoulder holsters for handguns, of course) or head-to-toe camouflage battle uniform. All that being said, though, it was still a positive experience overall.

There's something to be said for simply finding a place of peace. The turning of one's heart towards God is always easier when the atmosphere is quiet and calm. And true worship does not require exceptional preaching or exceptional musicianship, only exceptional openness. And even something that provided weirdness was a source of comfort in that the fact that I shared a uniform with all of these people meant shared experience, shared trials, and at least some shared goals. These were people in whom I could put immediate trust, and with whom I shared an immediate bond. In that respect, it had something that no church ever could. And further, the weight of even the smallest pleasantries was increased as well – when the chaplain said he was glad we all could be there this morning, the three soldiers from the FOB who were seriously injured this week came immediately to mind, and I really believed that the chaplain was glad I was there. So, how does my religious experience mesh with the reality that the service was provided to me as a way of enhancing my ability to perform my aforementioned mission?

Maybe this is a case of the means justifying the ends. Does it matter why I was afforded the opportunity to worship? Does it matter that the same chaplain who preached to me from Luke on the importance of giving God glory by seeing miracles in everyday life is likely to be the same chaplain who presides over the Muslim service? I don't think so. I think just as God can speak to each of us through nature, or non-spiritual circumstances, or extract illustrations from even inanimate objects, I can be spoken to in a blacked-out windowed, sandbag-fortified, armed-to-the-teeth chapel. Ultimately if God's desire is for me to commune with Him, then the most important factor in how easily I can hear Him speak is whether I'm willing to listen, and as long as the air-raid sirens are silent, the chapel on FOB Warrior, Kirkuk is as good a place as any. And if going to church ultimately makes me a better warfighter, then I guess that's a win-win, isn't it?


*FOB (pronounced “fawb,” like a watch fob) = Forward Operating Base

Blackout

I talked to Marc today after not hearing from him in three days. On the first day, I chalked it up to schedules and time differences. On the second day with no calls or emails, I began to worry that more than scheduling was coming into play. I knew this could/would happen. Whenever there is an "incident" involving injury to any soldiers, the post communication is shut down until the families can be notified properly. They call it a blackout. Turns out, on Wednesday, a convoy of ground troops were attacked, and a few soldiers were injured. Marc has joked about the relative ease of wartime conditions, but we both realize that the danger is very real. I know you all join me in continued prayers for safety for Marc and his other comrades in arms. God is good. All the time.

Mission: Almost Possible

In the several weeks he has been "in country," Marc has undergone a series of test flights (so to speak) with an instructor charged with verifying his competence. Marc is an excellent pilot, or so he has told me! ;) Actually, it has been universally agreed upon by virtually every instructor he has flown with. If you ask me, it is a good thing to be good at. Though the weeks have seemed laborious at times, the daytime portion is complete (with a nighttime portion still to come). Marc has been cleared to fly daytime missions, and he could begin doing so as early as tomorrow. He said the only condition is that he cannot be shot at since he has yet to be checked off on maneuvering. Personally, I'm okay with that and would prefer that he be prohibited from enemy fire for the duration of the tour. He is eager to begin working, allowing him to become a more contributing member of the unit.

What to Send: A Short List

Wikipedia has an interesting bit on the origins of care packages. If you are anything like my father-in-law, you might be interested to know that...

"The first CARE Packages contained:^[3]

• one pound of beef in broth
• one pound of steak and kidneys
• 8 ounces of liver loaf
• 8 ounces of corned beef
• 12 ounces of luncheon loaf (like Spam)
• 8 ounces of bacon
• 2 pounds of margarine
• one pound of lard
• one pound of fruit preserves
• one pound of honey
• one pound of raisins
• one pound of chocolate
• 2 pounds of sugar
• 8 ounces of egg powder
• 2 pounds of whole-milk powder
• 2 pounds of coffee"

So, perhaps not a jumping off point for what to send Marc. Maybe this list from him would be more helpful:

• protein bars and/or protein shakes
• stationary (got some regular paper and envelopes today so I could start writing to you guys, especially Wesley, but it'd be cool to have something a little nicer)
• smelly candles or incense or oil burner thingy. Our room smells a bit like poop.
• Warcraft time card. These would be nice once the internet gets up in the room.
• gift cards to places I could shop online. Best Buy cards, for example would be awesome.
• letters or emails. It's really nice actually to just get emails from people, or even just Facebook messages. Regular letters would be nice too, I guess.
• magnets. I don't really NEED things to hang up in the CHU (containerized housing unit), but it might be fun to have like a collection of stuff that people sent.
• I'd prefer not to get a bunch of junk food. Not that it'd be bad, cause I could just put it in the pool at the flight line for everybody to enjoy, but I don't want to have a bunch of junk sitting around that I have to try not to eat. :) Sunflower seeds wouldn't be bad.

They do have to open the packages in front of a commanding officer, so everything is monitored. Alcohol is prohibited. Also, be mindful of things that will melt, like chocolate, or spoil since transit time can take up to 4 weeks (though I heard that M&Ms hold up well...melts in your mouth, not in the desert).

War is Hell

Having settled a bit into Camp Warrior here in lovely Kirkuk, Iraq, I thought I'd share with you a few of the atrocities I have to endure while fighting the war on terror:

1. No internet in my room! But fear not, they tell us this will be remedied within the week. So I should have it at least by September.
2. The Pizza Hut doesn't deliver, and it's BAREly within shouting distance of my room!
3. It is at least a 5 minute walk to the place where I drop my laundry off to get it washed for free!
4. My 24 hour gym is often very busy between the hours of 5 and 6am! This makes it very difficult to find a treadmill close to the TVs to watch the free cable! I haven't been to the other two 24 hour gyms between 5 and 6am, but I am assuming they suffer from the same affliction.
5. They haven't figured out a way to air condition the entire country of Iraq, so on my way to work I have to walk in the heat between my room and my bus stop, then between my bus and the hangar!
6. The "haji-mart", as they call the bazaar of local vendors that comes and sets up once a month on post to sell tea sets, knock-off watches, random crappy paintings, a multitude of pocket knives, scarves, cigars, and other local-flavory chotzkies only takes cash, check, Visa, Eagle Cash Card, and Discover. NO AMEX! Savages!

You can send sympathy cards to the address noted in the post below.

Gotta run. I'm off to my 3-nights-a-week jiu jitsu group, then midnight chow at the all-you-can-eat buffet chow hall after that. Wonder if it's gonna be a Baskin Robbins night...

That is all.

How YOU Doin'?

In my mind, I imagine this asked in the style of Joey Tribbiani of Friends. It is a question I hear often, and I never quite know what to say. My response is usually based on who is asking, how many children are lobbying for my attention, and what level of composure I am capable of mustering.

I am glad people ask. It is comforting and encouraging to know people care. It also serves as a sort of emotional barometer for me. How AM I doing, anyway? Sometimes in the midst of daily life, I forget to take inventory of my feelings. Catharsis works miracles in the processing department.

This week, I'm starting to feel...well, adjusted, I guess. I know that is a good thing, but I hate it at the same time. It feels wrong to be whole without my other half. But they weren't kidding about time standing still for no one. My life allows very little time for self-pity, though I'm not above squeezing it in when I can. Instead, my focus is on growth. I have goals that I am working toward over the span of the deployment (and hopefully thereafter) : physical, financial, spiritual,domestical (fake word, but I love it). My theory is that accomplishing something positive negates some of the negative...you know, kind of sticking it to the terrorists.

What about the kids? I am blessed with two very flexible children. While they love Marc and I deeply, they could really care less if either of us is present, at least for a period of time. A lesser man might be offended that his five year old would rather go play with his friends than take a call from his daddy in Iraq. But make no mistake, his presence is missed, though the kids may not always have the emotional maturity to express it.

And Marc? He is mostly unflappable. Not superhuman, but strong. He is also motivated by goals for his military career, fitness, and spiritual walk. And it seems like 18 summers in South Florida may have given him a leg up on the average soldier when it comes to tolerating 115 degree temperatures in the desert. Who would have thought?

The Camel Express

Drum roll please....

Here is Marc's mailing address for the next 10 months or so!

CW2 Acton, Marc

D Trp 1/230th ACS 6-6 Cav

FOB Warrior, Iraq

APO AE 09338

He is safe and settling in.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye (Or...That Shakespeare Guy Is Full of It)

There was nothing sweet about the sorrow in this parting.

Michelle and I had about two months notice before I left town, which is plenty of time to prepare. The problem is, putting off preparation is easier than dealing with the emotions that come along with the preparing. In our house, that’s a successful recipe for procrastination. Different people handle significant emotional events differently. One of my coping mechanisms is denial, which made it even harder to sit down and do the practical things that needed to be done. Unfortunately, being unprepared and leaving unfinished business only increases the tension level, which leads to a downward spiral of building stress.

Mentally processing the idea of going to war was an exercise in mental gymnastics. Some of the induced thoughts were actually positive. I felt more impetus to work out. I felt a lot of pride in what I was about to do. I was looking forward to getting to fly my helicopter more. But for each of those positive thoughts came negative ones, in many cases simultaneously. The extra working out is a perfect example - the reason I felt more motivated was that the fact had occurred to me that the odds of me having to literally run for my life in the near future had gone from none at all to ALMOST none. That might be a small increase in odds, but good Lord that's not an easy thought to process. And then there's the possibility of me never coming home at all. Talk about opening a Pandora's box of emotions. Do you spend the effort to delve into that possibility? Do you really want to find out where that hypothetical road leads? Do you live your last days at home like they're really your last? If you do, good luck enjoying them. But what if you don't and they are?

At the end of the day, my approach was to try to strike a balance. Most importantly, I didn't want to put any more pressure on Michelle or myself than the situation already had. The last week I was home was bizarre in a way, though. I wanted so bad to enjoy my time as much as possible, but that pesky building stress made it difficult. Add in the fact that Michelle was feeling the same building stress as I was, and our connection was strained at the time when we both needed it to be the strongest. We both needed to be comforted, but neither of us had the full love tank that we needed to be there for each other. On top of that, the knowledge of the implications of the impending physical separation (if you know what I mean) kept the cauldron of complex emotions swirling. And I’m one of the lucky soldiers who completely trusts his wife. For the average (G.I.) Joe the stories of spousal infidelity during a deployment are frequent enough to introduce doubt into even the most solid of relationships.

When the actual morning came, saying goodbye…well there’s certainly nothing quite like that. I had the distinct feeling that this was the time to say something important. I kept hoping some magic words, some soothing prosaic nugget would come to mind that would ease her fears and mine. Maybe if I were a better man I would have had the right words to say or the intestinal fortitude to say it. But maybe the intensity of the situation forced me to boil away the unimportant and get to the heart of what matters. All I could bring myself to say was that I loved her and would miss her. Anything else would have seemed trite. “Don’t worry about me?” “I’ll be fine?” Those things sound nice, but our relationship’s foundation of honesty wouldn’t allow the empty promises. Maybe something like, “I’m proud of you for the way you’re serving your country by letting me go?” That’s true, but something tells me she didn’t really feel sold on the idea of letting me go at that moment, so that probably wasn’t the time for that. At the end of the day, you have to find out what matters most and stick with that and for me, all the things that matter most are summed up best by that simple expression of commitment. I love her, and that’s really what matters.

The next year will be the hardest of our ten years of marriage, without question. Neither one of us knows how this parting will leave us. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but at what price? To end where we began (with Shakespeare, of course), where will our relationship be after suffering the slings and arrows of this outrageous fortune we find ourselves trodding through? For all the Army's insensitivity and bent towards the unemotional, they might just have the answer: whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

War 2.0

This was written on the bus just after I had said goodbye to Michelle and the kids, and left Smyrna, TN for Ft. Benning, GA en route to Iraq.

I would have thought that going to war would be less like my freshman year of college.

As of this morning I am officially headed off to fight the war on terror. Admittedly, I’m not even one day into it, but here I sit on a Greyhound-style bus with laptop, cell phone and mp3 player at the ready, and Facebook just a few cell phone clicks away thinking how different today’s war is from the Old Days. I don’t have internet access on this bus, and I am anticipating several stretches of time over the next year that I’ll be offline. But once I get to where I’m going (Kirkuk, Iraq), there’s at least a reasonable internet connection, which means I’ll have Skype (the War 2.0 soldier’s favorite communication tool), movies to download (sorry, Hollywood) and games galore (because all that Warcraft’s not going to play itself). I’m also told there will be a significant amount of down time in between missions and to expect to fill that time with extra-curricular activities like working out, reading, playing video games, etc. So…less chance of sitting behind a hot chick in class, and ever-so-slightly higher chance of dying, but other than that, strong intimations of that glorious entry into collegiate academia (if I can even call my freshman year that.)

The odd thing is, a small part of me feels cheated. As cliché and probably narcissistic as it sounds, one of the reasons I signed up for the Army almost ten years ago was pride. What I do just plain makes me feel good. As such it is emotionally significant to me every single time someone thanks me for my service, tells me they're proud of me, or buys me a drink somewhere. The first question everyone asks though is, “Have you been deployed?” I haven’t, and upon telling this to random strangers I inevitably feel like I’ve somehow disappointed them. It’s a bit like telling someone you’re a professional baseball player, which is awesome, then telling them you’ve never actually played in the game, which is not so awesome, and watching the subtle expression change. How much of this disappointment is inferred vs. implied? Probably most of it, held over from some unidentified pubescent emotional issue. But it’s real. This deployment was supposed to get rid of that feeling, and it certainly will. But as I sit and mull over how to describe the beginning of this grand experience, I feel once again like I’m going to disappoint whoever might read this.

This is a new war, from the very first goodbye. Consider that in WWII .307% (or right around 3 of every 1,000) of the entire US population died. In Vietnam it was .03% of the American population. In both of those wars (and to a progressively-lesser extent every conflict up until the current one) aside from the exceptionally infrequent phone call, soldiers’ primary and often only form of communication was letters, which were often sporadically delivered if at all, and took sometimes weeks to arrive. When you say goodbye to someone and you truly don’t know if you’ll ever see or hear from them again, the emotions are inexpressible and abundant. When you say goodbye to someone and your lines of communication are so open that you feel the need to obsessively keep your spouse updated by text message on the surprisingly-long battery life of your brand new (non-Apple) mp3 player, that’s a whole ‘nother thing entirely (incidentally, in Iraq to date, less than .001% of the population has died.)

This isn’t the time or place for a sociological exploration of the effects this major communications paradigm shift has on the psyche of the average soldier. But it is surely significant. And there are other significant changes that affect the fighters of this new war as well. Near-mandatory mid-tour R&R, stronger support structures for the families left behind, and more command emphasis on holistic emotional health all combine to make this surely the easiest war to fight yet from an emotional standpoint. But does “easiest” mean “easy”? The short answer is no.

There are still goodbyes. There is still distance. There is still an inability to physically comfort and connect with those closest to you in a time when it is needed most. I don't know what the next year will hold. I'm headed to war, but what does that even mean these days? Will it be more like my freshman year of college or the books about war I read during it? At the end of the deployment, will I feel that I’ve done enough to warrant the thanks and appreciation of random strangers and family members alike? I guess we’ll find out together.

That's Desert With One "S"

Marc was able to call today from Kuwait. He is on a military base there, the name of which has already escaped me. He has an orientation briefing tomorrow (or today, in Iraqi time...they are 8hrs ahead of CST). Then he will wait until a flight can be arranged from Kuwait to Kirkuk, Iraq (the original destination), which will probably be the middle or end of the week. Here are a few bullet points from our conversation...

• It is hot and sandy. Straight up desert. He said the heat will take your breath away when you walk outside, but you don't really sweat since it is so dry. There is a constant "breeze," creating a sort of convection oven feel and lots of airborne sand to be randomly deposited on EVERYTHING
• He has quite a bit of jet lag. When I talked to him, it was about 11pm there. He had to be up at 3:30am, but he wasn't really tired since he had only been awake for about 6hrs. He said he is not really sure when to eat and is just caculating his next meal time by the clock since his stomach is also adjusting to the time change. "The chow is not too bad," and they have a Starbucks there!
• He is sleeping in a tent on a cot (see picture above). It is basically one big room lined on either wall with cots, which he claims are relatively comfortable. There IS air conditioning. When he arrives at Kirkuk, his accomodations should improve significantly. He will have an actually room with one (or possibly no) roommate.
• He purchased an internet card for the week, so he will be able to be online when the connection cooperates. It was good for the kids and me to see his face via web cam! God is good.

Let the Hotness and Sandiness Begin

Just a short post to put the word out that Marc arrived in Kuwait this morning. His flight left Georgia yesterday afternoon and laid over in Bangor, ME and Germany before arriving in Kuwait. He will stay in Kuwait for several days (possibly up to 2 weeks) to acclimate and do whatever else they tell him to do there. There is still some question as to where exactly he will be in Iraq, but as far as we know, it is somewhere in the northern part of the country. As soon as we have an address, I will post it. Thank you so much for all the prayers offered on our behalf.

Blessed Be Your Name

Blessed be Your name

In the land that is plentiful

Where Your streams of abundance flow

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name

When I'm found in the desert place

Though I walk through the wilderness

Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out

I'll turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name

When the sun's shining down on me

When the world's 'all as it should be'

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be Your name

You give and take away

You give and take away

My heart will choose to say

Lord, blessed be Your name

Once More with Feeling

This morning, Marc boarded a bus in Smyrna and officially
shipped out...like, for real, this time. We knew he would be home after training in Pennsylvania, but since the Nashville layover was expected to be short, we said our good-byes, had our parties, prayed at church, etc. In April, we all experienced a lot of emotion, went through initial adjustments, settled into a routine. Then he came home. And for a month and a half! So we unadjusted, tossed out the new routine and reverted back to the old one, lived in denial, and enjoyed the unexpected blessing. Now it is time to start over yet again. Tears, anxiety, re-acclimation, dusting off those new routines, warming up the web cam. Next stop, Iraq. Marc arrived safely in Georgia today, where he will be training for a few days before catching a commercial flight to Iraq on Friday. This time, it is not a drill.

Updates on the Updates

We have enjoyed some marvelous family time since Marc returned home on May 15th. There has been some shifting of the time line, which is par for the course. For once, the changes seem to be working in our favor. Marc's departure date for Ft. Benning is LATER than we expected. For about 24 hours, it was July 4th (so patriotical), but it is now June 27th. As Marc so aptly put it: "As always, all changes final until next change posted." In the meantime, I am working at the hospitals, and we are trying to soak up ever drop of togetherness. This week, we are taking a trip to FL for Marc's youngest sister's wedding (a monumental event he would have missed). We are looking forward to time with our families and all kinds of quality time in the car (24hrs or so, all told) with the FOF (family of four).

To Make a Long Story Even Longer

The Army doesn't do anything the easy way. I have very seldom looked at the path ahead and thought, "Yeah, that makes sense." Flexibility, I have learned, is key. For a girl who likes plans and calendars, that is a challenge. The timeline for training and deployment has always been a bit sketchy, but here is the latest: Marc will finish Blackhawk AQC (flight school) on Friday and probably be home by dinner! At the behest of the military (and in order to avoid any health complications in Iraq), Marc needs to have his wisdom teeth removed before he can deploy. Strange, I know. Because of this, we were pretty sure that he would be back in Nashville before the final departure to Iraq. However, he has missed some kind of deadline to meet up with the rest of his unit, who are currently in Ft. Sill, OK. So, after his visit to the oral surgeon, he will have to wait until his unit is in Iraq and go instead to Ft. Bragg, NC, where he will receive mobilization training. It looks like the earliest this will happen is the first week in June, so his stay in N'ville will be longer than we anticipated, which is FABULOUS. After two weeks of training at Bragg, he will meet the unit in Iraq, most likely before the end of June. The important question: does this mean he will be gone longer? Nope! The deployment is for 12 months (give or take...remember, flexibility?) from the date his unit was mobilized, which was March 31st. We are still expecting that he will be back home sometime early in April 2010.

Officially a Blackhawk pilot.

Killing stuff is OUT. Picking stuff up and moving it around is IN. Woot.

As of Monday, I am officially a qualified UH-60 Blackhawk pilot. We took our checkrides, and my stick buddy and I passed with fairly flying colors. I have mixed feelings about leaving Apaches. I would have liked to have gotten deployed at least once with that airframe, but there are things I definitely like about being a lift puke. Basically, the Blackhawk's job is to move stuff around. Whether it be people, supplies, parts, etc, I am basically now a glorified UPS driver with a little bit of taxi cab driver mixed in. Here's what I like about it:

1. The Blackhawk has a much more varied mission. This helicopter was made to be versatile. The Apache was made for one reason: to blow stuff up. Not that there's anything wrong with that.


2. I can actually perform the mission without getting deployed. Being in an Apache unit for almost 9 years and never having been deployed feels a little bit like being on a baseball team and only practicing. Basically I've been sitting on the bench for the last 9 years and never got in the game. With 60's, I will be able to play more.


3. One word: crew. Apaches have only 2 seats, and they're both occupied by pilots. That means it's only me and one other dude. In the Blackhawk, including the other pilot, the crew chief, and the 11 combat troops I can carry, that's 13 other guys that can find out how good of a helicopter pilot I am at one time! :)

I will miss flying guns. But here's to getting in the game.

Daddy Pillows

My friend Kristen just went through a deployment last year with her husband and their two girls. For this and so many other reasons, she is a wealth of information for me! While Jerry was gone, Sarah had something called a Daddy Doll (aka: Hug-a-Hero). Although Marc is somewhat disturbed by the idea of his picture being mounted to a pillow, I thought the kids would really like them, and I was right! Catelynn calls hers "my Daddy piwoow." I wanted to take a picture of the kids with the pillows, and I can't resist posting several attempts...

No? Okay then, maybe another day.

I believe my instruction in this shot was "Open your eyes!"

Sir Ham-a-lotSeriously, this is the best one I could get.
Perhaps justification for Marc's being disturbed
And, she's out! That's a wrap.

Get Out the Map

Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down.

We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town.

Don't drink the water; there seems to be something ailing everyone.

I'm gonna clear my head.

I'm gonna drink that sun.

I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young.

--Indigo Girls

I made this a few years ago (and by made, I mean with scissors and lacquer). It is by far my most creative venture. It even required a trip to Hobby Lobby or some such place. For some reason, we had yet to hang it in the "new" house (where we have lived for 2.5 years), but with Wesley asking about the exact location of where Daddy would be, I thought it was time to dig it out. We put a sticker on Nashville and a sticker on Iraq. If only they were as close as the map makes them look.

Nickel Ride

I had my first UH-60 Blackhawk flight today. Picture is of my IP (instructor pilot) and my stick buddy (yes, that's what you actually call the person who you share an instructor with) walking out to the aircraft. If you're familiar with Army helicopters, you may note the Apache, which is the aircraft immediately to the right of the guys. I could almost hear her calling my name as I walked to my aircraft, which was literally 20 yards in front of her, and as I climbed in I could feel her two big sexy eyes staring at me with judgment for having left her for another, more catfish-shaped woman.

Last night I couldn't sleep. Too much anticipation. This morning through academics I felt like a giddy little school-girl. I know we learned something about hydraulics, but I couldn't tell you for sure what it was. Outside, the day was absolutely horrible from a weather standpoint. It was probably in the low forties, but the wind was howling and there was a spitting rain in the air. If we had been scheduled to do anything but the bare minimum maneuvers we would not have been able to go. Fortunately, this nickel ride consists mostly of ground taxiing and a few hovering maneuvers, and a couple of traffic patterns if you're lucky (the "nickel ride" is the name given to your first flight in any aircraft - not sure the genesis of that term but for your very first nickel ride in flight school, tradition dictates you find a nickel from your birth year and give it to your instructor prior to the flight).

I was admittedly a little shaky for the first couple minutes of ground taxiing, and the first time I pulled up to a hover, there was a noticeable wobble. All of the controls are the same from the Apache as far as what they do (a GROSS oversimplification would be to say that there's an "up and down stick" and a "which way do I want to go stick"), but how they do it is noticeably different, with different amounts of input required and different feedback in the controls when you put inputs in. All of the points of reference are different as well, as aside from being in a completely different cockpit, I'm sitting about 5 feet lower, and 3-8 feet closer to the front of the aircraft. The fact that I can look over and see the other pilot is weird as well. In the Apache the 2 pilots sit front and back rather than side-to-side (a fact which the Apache community interprets as a sign that Blackhawk guys like to hold hands). A few seconds into hovering flight, though, I was pretty well locked in.

Next was a couple of flight system demonstrations at a hover with my instructor on the controls, one of which to be honest made me wonder whether or not I would actually make it through to be able to write this blentry. Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought that particular maneuver was...we'll say "interesting", because the tower came on over the radio after we did it and said, "Just want to verify that you're 'ops normal'." In other words, "Is everybody ok over there." Apparently we were. Flight continues.

At one point, I look over to the side of the airfield and notice that a minivan has pulled over on the side of the road to watch us. Nothing strokes the ego quite like a reminder that you have a job that's so cool, people stop what they're doing just to watch you.

Then my first traffic pattern came. Takeoff was solid. A little forward ground run before lift-off due to the hawk's increased forward-tilting rotor system, but no biggie. Will compensate next time. In the traffic pattern, I was solid. Plus or minus 50 feet for the most part on altitude, airspeed within 10 knots or so. Within standard on the first iteration, which is very good. Coming around for my first approach, I was starting to feel in the zone. Everything makes sense. I think this must be what musicians feel like when they're playing jazz by ear. My IP is quiet, except for the occasional, "You're doing good." At the bottom, landing is almost unnoticeable. We're exactly at our intended touchdown point about 2 feet to the left of the center line of the runway, but I'll chalk that up to the fact that in the Apache I sit in the very middle of the aircraft and in the 60, I'm oh, about 2 feet to the right. No biggie. My IP looks at me and says, "Well, that was basically a perfect approach. If I told you anything right now I would just be making something up for the sake of not admitting that it was perfect." I make a joke about how he clearly has gone to a different instructor school than all my IP's in the past and we laugh, but my brain is still processing the perfect approach, and trying to convince myself that I'm not as awesome as I think I am right now. One traffic pattern later and I was done. My stick buddy had a good flight, I think. I'll be sitting in the back throughout the course while he flies, which again is different, since the Apache only has two seats.

I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities over the next few weeks for my awesomeness to be called into question. I am admittedly a really good pilot, especially when it comes to flying, and I don't mind telling you that every IP I've flown with has told me so. The funny thing about flying helicopters, though, is that just like those jazz players, no matter how good you are you can always improve, and every flight I have multiple opportunities to wish I had done something better. What I won't have is any more nickel rides and as nickel rides go, this one was everything I could have hoped for.

After we shut down, we tied the aircraft down and headed in to the hangar to fill out the logbook, turn in the keys, etc. My former flame was still sitting on the ramp, now watching me walk away. I felt like her disdain had been replaced by maybe a little sadness, but tempered with underpinnings of pride. We wouldn't be spending time together like we used to. I've moved on, but not necessarily to bigger and better things, just different things. In this case it's true: it's not her, it's me.

Still, we both know she'll always be my first.





Getting ready for our first flights (first picture is a fellow student, middle is my IP, third is another IP with his 2 students:

The Dad-Hawk

Wesley got a balloon helicopter at Chick-fil-a family night the other day. He immediately began plans to draw in some realistic features: two doors, a window in the front for Daddy to see out, and some detailed shading on the blades. The final touch was a fitting name on the side of the "aircraft" (ha! get it? it is a balloon filled with air and an art project/craft! see what I did there?) After some help with the spelling, Wesley christened the helicopter The Dad Hawk, a rather witty derivative of the Blackhawk that Marc will be flying.

Lights, webcam, action!

Before Marc left, we purchased a webcam. In less than a week, I think we have already gotten our money's worth out of it. It may not be surprising to hear that he has internet access while he is training in the States, but we are also incredibly grateful that he will most likely have a connection in Iraq. Being able to see the people you love while you talk to them makes a tremendous difference. Without the modern marvel of webcam, there would not have been this...

Absence makes the heart grow ___

...well, a lot of things. I believe the saying fills that blank with the word fonder. I think Marc and I have moved a level beyond fondness. When I was in college, I took a trip to Haiti with a woman who had been married for 30 years and was spending her first night away from her husband. I remember thinking then how odd/awesome that was, but at that point I had no idea how different my life would be from hers. When Marc joined the Army in 2000, we had already practiced being separated. We were high school sweethearts, and he was a year ahead of me in school, so his first year in college, I stayed behind in Florida. Our first Army separation was for basic training/AIT; he was gone for about 6 months. I was in my senior year of college, and we didn't have any children. After training, he spent one weekend each month and two weeks each summer in Kentucky. When he went through flight school (the first time), he was in Alabama without us for 3 months at the beginning and 3 months at the end of that training. Wesley was only four months when he left and 18 months when we moved to Nashville. Our next separation (and probably the most challenging to date) was when he went back to Alabama for Longbow school. Catelynn was 4 months old, and Wesley was almost 4 years old. Marc was supposed to be gone for four months...not a small amount of time. In the end, he was gone for eight months! I won't lie. It was horrible. But possibly good practice for what is ahead? Going into this year-long deployment, we have, by my calculations, spent a total of approximately two years of our ten year marriage apart. I can't begin to describe (or even comprehend) what effect that has had on our relationship. In my experience, absence makes the heart grow. Period.

Snail Mail

For the next 6 weeks, you can reach Marc at the following address:
CW2 Marc Acton
Eastern ARNG Aviation Training Site
UH-60 AQC 09-004
c/o of DMVA
Annville, PA 17003
Just in case anyone has an itch to write a REAL letter. :)

Getting Ink

Fourth tattoo, although the first three are co-located. As you can see, it was an interesting dude who was the artist.

In Exodus 3:12, God had just told Moses to go rescue His people from slavery. Moses' reaction was a feeling of inadequacy, so he asked God, "Who am I, that I should go?" Basically, "Why me?"

God's reply was, "I will be with you," reminding Moses that who Moses was wasn't important, but the fact that God was going with him was everything. As a reminder to me that my feelings of inadequacy in the face of huge challenges means nothing if God is with me, the tattoo reads, "I will be with you" in Hebrew.

Staying Home With Your Kids Is Like Eating Cake

Three reasons why:

1. Eating cake and spending time with your kids are both at the top of the list of their respective categories ("Activities That Sustain Your Body", and "Ways To Pass the Time," respectively).
2. If done to excess, both can be detrimental to your health. Too much cake causes enlarged fat cells and occasionally vomitting. Too much kid time causes enlarged anger cells and occasionally emotional vomitting.
3. Even after periods of excessive consumption, exceptionally small amounts of abstinence are required to reintroduce the craving for more. Had too much cake for breakfast? Surely you'll be ready for another piece by lunchtime. Spent the last 10 months spending nearly every day with your children and just left them this afternoon? Turns out you'll be jonesing for a kid fix by dinner.

Pleasantly Paradoxical

As I mentioned in my original "start at the beginning" post, I've been looking for a full-time job for the last 10 months. I applied to literally hundreds of jobs with no luck. Eventually I settled on the teaching profession to focus my efforts on, but I quickly learned that nearly all full-time teaching positions are filled during the spring or early summer months. Eventually, the stay-at-home dad thing just got really old.

Looking back, though, the last 10 months I spent mostly at home have given me the opportunity to spend time with Wesley and Catelynn that I would have never otherwise been able to. You could say this was God's way of forcing me to cram next year's quality time into this last year. :) I don't know what you're experience with God's working in your life has been, but it certainly fits into God's modus operandi with our family to say that the thing that has caused me the most grief over the last year was in reality a HUGE gift, and something that will allow me to make it through my time away without wondering if I will return to my home with two kids that don't know me. Isn't it funny how He works?

A Real American Hero

When Marc found out that he would be deploying to Iraq, one of the first orders of business was talking to Wesley. When Marc told him that he would be going away for a while, Wesley was initially disappointed and asked why. Marc explained that there is a place where there are some bad guys, and he and his friends from the Army need to go and help the good guys. Wesley's obvious response: "Do the bad guys have helmets?" (As random as it seems, this question is inspired by his keen observation that all of the racers in Speed Racer have different helmets.) Marc explained that some of the bad guys wore funny hats called turbans. Wesley requested that when he shoots the bad guys (oh dear!), that he land his helicopter, get the turban, and bring it back for a souvenir. Marc suggested that perhaps this would not be allowed. As a revised request, Wesley asked that he land the helicopter and just take a picture of the turban. Perfectly reasonable. Wesley's next pressing question: "Do the bad guys have bombs?" Due to his recent exposure to Super Mario Brothers (the original NES version!), bombs have become quite fascinating. Marc did not find it necessary to share that the Iraqis do not use the bombs to kill flying turtles!

Let's Start at the Very Beginning.

Before getting into the story itself, here's a piece of information that might make it make more sense: the Army Reserves and the National Guard are mostly the same thing in that they both are parts of the US Army, and they both require you to go to drill one weekend every month and two weeks during the summer. The biggest difference is that the reserves is run at the national level, and Guard units are all run by the states. So the TN National Guard belongs to the governor of TN. As such, Guard units are also much more likely to be mobilized stateside for disaster cleanup, emergencies, etc. You would think that because the Reserves and the Guard are so similar in nature and function they would be "friends" but that's definitely not the case. They're separate enough that there's almost no connection and leaving one to go to the other is a pretty big deal.

So with that prelude...In the middle of January, I requested that my Army Reserve unit release me so that I could join a TN Army National Guard unit in Smyrna, TN which is very close to my house. I've been a part of the Ft. Knox reserve unit for almost nine years, having served first as an Apache helicopter mechanic, then as an Apache helicopter pilot. Yesterday I found out that my request to the new unit had been approved.

For the last couple of years, I've had to drive 2 1/2 hours to get to my unit at Ft. Knox, which I've been doing twice a month or so. I'm able to work basically as much as I want at my unit (and get paid), which has been great for us, but because of the distance, I'm having to spend extra money on hotels, food, gas, etc since it's not close enough to stay at home while I'm working there. I've also been spending a lot of extra time away from Michelle and the kids. Moving to a closer unit would remove all of those issues. I'm also leaning more and more towards staying in the Reserves until I can retire, so my current unit at Ft. Knox is not a long-term option for that. I needed something closer. The kicker is, when I started looking into changing units, I found out that the unit in Smyrna is getting deployed to Iraq in May. The first response, of course, was that we should definitely NOT try to change units to one that's getting deployed. The more we thought about it, however, we started to wonder if maybe God was presenting this as an opportunity.

Here's kind of what we were thinking:

1. I had to move to the closer unit eventually.
2. If I stay in the reserves at all, I am certain to get deployed. My current unit is slated to deploy in the summer of 2010. So we're basically in a deploy-now or deploy-later scenario. For several reasons, deploying now makes more sense for our family. For one thing, I don't have a full-time job to have to leave and come back to. I'm hoping to get a full-time teaching job, and getting deployed in the middle of a school year would be complicated, and not just for me.
3. Catelynn (and to a lesser degree, Wesley) is young enough that my leaving shouldn't be a major emotional issue. The older they get, though, the more difficult an extended absence can be for them, and for Michelle having to deal with being on her own with them.
4. Many of you know that I've been without a full-time job for about 10 months or so (I've been getting paid for spending a lot of extra time at my Ft. Knox unit). We've been ok financially, but are getting closer and closer to the point where we would not be. We felt like this could be God's way of giving us an opportunity financially. While deployed, I will make pretty good money, and it will all be tax free. While we wouldn't make a decision like this just for money, the fact that it would supply just what we need right when we need it certainly fits with God's way of operating in our lives.

So that's where our hearts were a month ago when we decided to put in the request for the switch. You should also know that the request was almost certain to get turned down. Within the last year, the Reserves spent well over $1 million to train me on the new Apache helicopter. When that happens, they're supposed to give soldiers what's called a "Military Service Obligation" (MSO) which basically means you can't get out for X amount of years (usually at least three). So we thought, "Well, it's not going to go through, but we think this might be what God wants us to do, so we'll just put it in and see if God continues to open the doors." Well, you know the end of the story, so obviously He did.

The first and most significant thing I found out was that for some reason, my official record was showing that I had no Military Service Obligation. Nobody exactly knows why. But even without an MSO, my request still had to go through several levels of my chain of command, all the way to the one-star General who's the Commander of the whole Reserves, and at each level I expected it to get turned down but it did not. At any one of those levels, they could have said, "Hey, this guy's record is wrong - he should have a MSO," and corrected the mistake and turned down the request. But they did not.

So that's how Michelle and I get here, looking at a fast-approaching deployment, knowing well the tremendous difficulty that goes along with that, knowing all the disappointments that surround being gone for a year (missing my sister's wedding, missing life's milestones with the kids, etc) and actually believing that it's a gift from God. It will certainly be a difficult year, and we will be relying on you all for support (especially for Michelle and the kids), and there will surely be plenty of times that we forget how much of a "gift" it is, but at least for now we rejoice in the fact that God's hand continues to be on our lives. What happens next is, from April 6-May 16 I'll be in Ft. Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania to learn a new aircraft (UH-60 Blackhawk). After that I'll come home for probably just a day or two, then meet up with my unit in Ft. Sill, Oklahoma. From there I'll be actually shipping out to Iraq probably some time at the beginning of June. I'll be gone somewhere around 12 months total.

There are so many complicated emotions involved in being deployed and being married to somebody who's deployed, so I would ask that you would pray for Michelle to be able to live in a place of peace.

Thank you for being a part of our lives. We will definitely keep you all posted over the next weeks and months as to how we're doing.

m.