My Captivity

Having returned from my last deployment, I was looking forward to terminal leave and retirement. I intended this to be a kind of vacation time. You see, I thought that for a week or so, I would get up at the crack of noon, and have breakfast at the Cracker Barrel while the working-stiffs were ordering lunch.

I would walk in unshaven and make a staged stretch and then a yawn and announce a well-rehearsed sarcastic remark about how I just can't seem to wake up if I sleep past ten. I would be deliberately casual about the remaining hours of daylight. I would take my bride and dear children who've missed me so much over the last year on great adventures.

We'd just go "do stuff"; and eat out as many times as we wanted. We'd throw caution to the wind. You want dessert for lunch? Great! Go for it! No-holds-barred. Life is short, and everyone needs a holiday now and then.

At least ONCE I wanted to go back home after eating too much, very-late-breakfast, for a long, undeserved nap. Then I'd get up again around two-thirty and without getting dressed again, I'd lay on the couch and watch daytime television in my skivvies while scratching myself and making judgmental remarks about the lack of intelligence in day-time programming.

But something's wrong:

Now that terminal leave has begun, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt... "She" has other plans. She has ALWAYS had other plans, and never told me! Despite hearing me talk all those times about how little I was going to do for those first few blissful days of fully-paid-unemployment, she never said a word!

The first day, I got up with the 13 month old "little-man" at her request. I didn't necessarily "want" to, I but I thought--hey, fair's fair...so I took him down stairs and we had a good-enough-time I suppose...but he's little and...well, let's just say he's not that into me. He likes the lady who brings the milk.

But it wasn't just that day, though. It's been every...single... day since I've been off!

Oh believe me, he's getting as irritated about it as I am. We're trying to hatch a plot to get back at her, but I can't understand anything the kid says to me! Since the little-man's birth, the older female child has become fluent in baby talk, so I asked her to interpret, but she is suddenly unable (or unwilling) to help me.

Call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure my sweet little girl has been replaced by a Junior Clone of the "Missus". I don't know when it happened, but it's a very "Stepford Wives" kind of thing. She looks the same, but when she talks, I KNOW something isn't right. The one who used to ask me to take her on a "daddy date" any time we left the house without mommy is now telling me how much everything cost and how bad for my health it is to eat out. If I so much as stop in front of a gumball machine, she logs it into her cute little hard-drive and reports it back to headquarters.

I forgot to mention "Agent Grandma",(who rounds out the tribunal). She appears the sweet-little-grandma who is so happy to be doting over her grand-babies--yeah right! I'm telling you, she's an operator! A regular 007! Her cover is this appearance she puts on--the grey hair, and pleasantly plump mid-fifties appearance; and the scurrying around the house to clean everything in sight and washing a dish as soon as it hits the sink--sure...it sounds good, but she's DEEP UNDER COVER! I know she's been trained by the CIA in mind-reading and remote viewing.

Let's say for a moment that the Missus had heard of Abraham Lincoln and decided to emancipate me from my duties long enough to catch a game before March Madness ends...fantasy, I know, but work with me for the sake of the example. So, I'm watching the game, and I start to get a little hungry, and the thought "Bratwurst" crosses my mind. Immediately, the old Lady's spider senses kick in, and the next thing I know, I'm being hurried off to the table and plopped down in front of a force-feeding consisting of a dandelion-and-spinach-leaf Salad with a dollop of Tuna or Chicken Salad in the middle.

It happens every time! Spooky, right? Sometimes, I'm afraid to eat it, but I'm more afraid not to. It's actually more scary if I ever actually get out of the house without "the Clone". Then I actually can make a break to eat something that was once alive and had to shed blood to end up on my plate. I'm telling you, somehow, the old bat KNOWS!

As soon as I take that first bite, my cell phone rings! I know what you are thinking, but you need to walk a mile in my shoes...there is NO WAY I'm not answering that phone. After my hello, "She" doesn't say "hi" or "how are things? ", no, only "Where are you?".

I've been in the military for 27 years and we have a bit of an invasive leadership style; and I have an uncle who is a retired federal law enforcement agent, so I know that when THAT kind of question is asked in THAT kind of tone, with THAT kind of timing, you are not just answering a question---you are being interrogated and should understand that answering truthfully or not, there WILL be consequences.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, as much as I look forward to breaking away to eat real meat, with real fat, they come at a price. I'm like the POW who is making the best of his captivity. Every now and then I have to oppose my captors--I HAVE to resist...I have to maintain my sense of humanity--even if it means "a week in the hole".

Back from Haiti

Well, it's been a while. A LONG while. I have been on deployment half way around the world in the CENTCOM AOR, and then just as I returned, we got an execute order to turn right back around to go to Haiti to render assistance to the Haitian people. What a wonderful opportunity to do something that matters for people who really need the assistance.

As I reflect on the state of the people there, and the fact that they've been in that condition as long as they have, I am emotionally drained: The kind of drained that comes when you know that you've done what you can, but it will never be enough.

These people need a miracle, and even though I know that I am not the one who can give them that Miracle, I know who can. Jesus. I can think of no better thing to write, than to cut and paste a letter I sent to my friends and family from our operational area, just to the south and west of Port Au Prince. As you read, remember that miracles happen when people get involved. Consider how you might become involved--you might be part of the miracle.

Hello friends and family:

Thanks for your well wishes and prayers for me and our guys. As you
know by now, we were home for 37 days and got the execute order to
redeploy in support of relief efforts for the people of Haiti. We've
been here for about a week (a little less, actually). The hours have
been long, and difficult, but the missions are going well...very well.

We have been receiving casualties on the Bataan while also going
ashore to render humanitarian aid and medical treatment. Establishing
logistics hubs has been difficult, but you would all be proud of the
ingenuity and love displayed by every member of this outstanding unit.
I am so very humbled and proud to work along side them and that they
count me among their numbers.

Today was a busy day. We had a lot of people from Haiti coming in to
us for medical care for the second straight day. The children break
your heart the most: Yet, they are gracious, humble and thankful.

These are the humblest, sweetest people. They have nothing, and yet,
they stand and smile when they meet you. You'd think they hadn't a care
in the world. When I have been fortunate to have opportunities to speak
to them on a personal level, I am struck by the brightness of their
spirits, despite everything they have endured. Remember: Haiti wasn't
that nice a place to live BEFORE the earthquakes.

Speaking of earthquakes, we had another one yesterday 6.1 on the RS
and several smaller ones. Today we had several more, but of markedly
less strength. All our Marines are well. No injuries or sickness.

In the area we are operating, about 80-90 percent of the houses have
been completely demolished. Many more are damaged and unsafe to
re-enter. People have been moving outside into tents because they are
afraid to sleep under a structure--that will work for now, but soon the
rainy season will start and the mosquitoes will become unbearable.
The flies are getting bad for reasons I won't get into, but soon, our
efforts for medical treatment and relieving pain will have to be shared
with stemming some problems that will result in public health nightmare
if we don't do it fast enough.

Naturally, we aren't the only show in town: There are thousands more
from all over the world. There are other national militaries and
civilians doing so much good work. Every single one of them working
themselves very hard, yet they keep their spirits up. They all know
that this is an opportunity to serve your fellow man in a way that might
never come again during our lifetime.

As I think of the grace of the Haitian people I fall into shame about
my random trepidations over my little concerns: "Where will I find a
job?" "How much money will I make?" "When will I sell my house?" This
experience reminds me that no matter where I sit, I not only have
"enough" but I have abundance, and abundance to be shared with people
who are quietly, faithfully, and cheerfully starving to death, or dying
for lack of clean water.

It's funny how I thought I was coming here to help them, but they
have done so much more for me than I ever could have done for them.

This is one of the mysteries of the economy of God--that if you give,
you just end up more and more wealthy, and you have more and more to
give.

They literally have no shelter, no food, no water...nothing--yet they
are thankful, and courageously faithful that God sees their needs and
will deliver them.

I met a mother holding her baby who has too much fluid on her brain.
The baby can't open her eyes because her head is so swelled, and even
when she cries you can tell that every breath she draws is hard work.
When I met the mother, she was feeding the baby a bottle a few sucks at
a time so the baby could stop to breathe in between. She smiled and
nodded her head to me; and through the interpreter, she asked me to
forgive her for not standing. My eyes watered and I got a lump in my
throat immediately. In all this woman is enduring, in the afflictions
of her child, she has time to worry about how she greets me? I felt
like I didn't deserve to share a room with a person of such strength.

Please join me in praying for her that if nothing else, this
earthquake brought help to her baby and that we can direct her to
doctors who can help her. I have to go for now. I'm afraid my writing
time will most often give way to cat-naps when I can take them, but for
now, we just got the call that more casualties are inbound. Please
commit yourselves to pray for these people. I'm sure that US-AID will
soon publish an address where you can send needed items like baby
formula, and stuff. Please be patient. If you were determined to send
them now, we would not have a way to distribute them to those who need
it.


Take care for now.