Those of you who know me know that I hold a master’s degree in social work. For those of you who peek in on this blog and don’t know me personally I want to make one thing perfectly clear — I am a conservative social worker. Yes, I am a freak, and I own it. Also, please bear in mind that I am not reading much related to my profession lately, not to mention that the book we read most frequently these days is “The Lump of Coal” by Lemony Snicket. So, I am pulling this all out of the top of my head.
I spent a good portion of my years as a student of social work studying the systems, structures, dynamics and history of both families and communities. The ties that bind people together cross the social, legal, and economic strata, and shape what we call family and community. Oftentimes when people hear the word “community” they associate it with a geographical area, or with a group of people with a shared interest (such as an “online community.”) I think that the Internet and our very mobile world has definitely redefined community and has opened the means to share this phenomena with those we may never meet face to face.
Some of the things that comprise a community of people include things such as a common vernacular, a shared value system, shared beliefs, and common experiences. These factors allow for a sense of empathy and understanding between community members. Without these factors You can have a more shallow community where things like sympathy, empathy and mercy are not demonstrated as freely between its members. I think of larger cities and larger schools where members are often segregated on a host of characteristics; where everything from language, clothes and socioeconomic class prevent a sense of bonding and empathy toward one another. Sometimes in these communities a tragedy can break these segregating norms, and change the dynamics within a community forever. I think back on the Virginia Tech students and the tragedy they faced over a year ago. I imagine that they had never known the need for family and community as they now know it in the light of the horrors they lived through.
With all of that in mind, I am always taken back with this concept of the military community. It fascinates me. To be honest I have never been a part of a more loving, caring and dynamic group of people in my life (outside of my church family that is). So far what I have witnessed is an incredible amount of fraternal bonds among male soldiers (as told by my son who now has hundreds of new brothers), and the sense of familial outreach and support that is extended to the soldier’s family — as I am witnessing both as a military mom and a military wife.
There is an instant understanding, an instant empathy and an instant connection. It doesn’t mean that instant best friends are made, but regardless you are nestled within a community and you have a place where you do not have to explain why you support your husband’s decision to serve. You don’t have to explain “how you do it” when he’s deployed. We all just understand.
One day a while back I over heard a woman in a Diner talking about a family tragedy. She repeatedly said “You just never think it can happen to you, you know?” That phrase stuck in my mind and I seriously heard it echo in my memory for the rest of the day. It took some time for me to really think through why it resonated so hard with me, and then I had my epiphany — it bothered me so greatly because I live with this constant realization that the death of someone I love dearly could indeed happen to me.
I am realizing now that this is truly one of the bonds of the military families and why we are so close — even when your face is that of a stranger, your fears, hopes, and life experiences do resemble each other’s on such a level that we are instantly a type of family. Every fallen soldier suddenly looks a lot like you son, your husband, your brother, daughter, etc. Every grieving family is your own, and their heartache causes your own heart to be weighed down. I am realizing that when you have someone who is deployed you simply do not have the leisure of living at a level of consciousness that affords you the denial of any imminent threat of disaster.
This post was stirred in me this week because we have just passed the one year anniversary of the death of a fellow Stryker soldier. His brothers in arms called him by his last name, “Lee.” He and two others were killed when they were targeted by a suicide vest bomber in Diyala. My son was in the air on his way home when it happened. Our Thanksgiving last year was laced with much love, thankfulness and profound sadness. How do we ever sit at our table again, during this time of the year, and not think of those three young men who left behind wives, children, and parents? They were not my sons by birth, but my son calls them brothers so they are most certainly a part of our family. They were American Soldiers and by that title alone they had our respect and gratitude. We loved them by proxy. It happened to their families, and all we could do was love and support those who were left behind the best way we knew how.
Some truths can be hard and cold to embrace, but thank God for a soft and warm embrace from a community that understands those hard cold truths more than any other.
