Alive

***You might want to stop the playlist on the bottom of this page to watch the video clips!**
**Also, My page got messed up with the embedding process this time and I do not have the time to fix it. So, apologies for the sloppiness of this post!*


A marine from Camp Pendleton:

"When twenty-two year old Marine Sgt. Phillip McCulloch Jr. was rocked by an RPG during his third combat tour in Afghanistan, he was rushed to the hospital and given the option of going home.

His unit, the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment from Camp Pendleton had been pinned down by insurgents in a lengthy and grueling firefight within the Sangin Valley last spring. They lost 25 Marines, and suffered 200 casualties, the largest loss of any battalion in the war."

......He was 22. He was recently awarded with the Silver Star for choosing to go back to his battalion instead of going home.

In an article I was reading in the paper about this young man, they asked his father about how he felt with his son joining the marines and going into combat. The dad's answer was very interesting.

"Killing is the easy part. It's the living with it afterwards....."

There is a huge military presence in San Diego. Since we are fresh on the military scene, I still find it strange that I have access to bases and services and discounts. Last week, I needed to go to our local marine base to get our new baby all signed up with our insurance. In the office, marines are the ones doing all the paper work. When I answer their questions, they say, "Roger that."

I look curiously at each person in uniform that I interact with. Even if they've never been in combat this past decade, I look at them and just think, "You're alive now."

I know. Strange thought to have. As the young man took my information for little Daniel at the DEERS office, asking if he was male (since I accidentally had him wrapped in a pink blanket!), eye color, weight, etc......I just watched his hands clicking away on the mouse. I always watch their hands. I don't know why. Just again, the thought, They are here now, doing this mundane task....But they are alive.

PBS did a special called Operation Homecoming which focused on soldiers writings from during their combat tours. The writing helped them deal with facing death every day.

The following clip is a segment from one of the writings. There is a lot of inappropriate language so use discretion when watching (make sure no little ones are around). But, I wanted to share this story b/c many soldiers come home and never talk about it again. And, as I watch this, I think, these soldiers are 18 to 20 years old, most of them.....experiencing this fear for their lives. This is what it was like for one soldier during one evening of his tour....

So....these soldiers come home and may keep it all in the box. Many of you might not be interacting with soldiers every day like we do here. However, when I'm at the commissary or at the clinic and see wounded young men, wheeling around, getting their groceries or prescriptions, I wonder what is in their box. What did they see? How can I thank them? How can I bless them now?


Whomever grew up during the same time as myself (born late 70s early 80s), we saw no war like Vietnam or Korea or the World Wars.......But now, it is our classmates from high school, and younger that are coming back from 3+ tours in combat, with scars both physical and psychological.

Take a moment and consider blessing this organization:

Wounded Warrior Project

I believe this is an area that I feel called to help out in. I can never be the psychological help that I would want to be. A soldier wouldn't trust the encouragement of one who has never seen combat or to a woman for that matter! But, there are so many other ways to bless these men and women. My heart breaks for every soldier that comes home from tours of duty only to kill themselves.


I posted the following video on facebook earlier today of this young man who won the medal of honor, the first one awarded during these two wars. All I see in him, besides extreme humility, is that heavy, heavy soul that comes from surviving when your comrades did not.



He is alive. And, he probably will not share this story many more times.

Dan Folkmann, a classmate from high school posted this message today on his facebook page:

"To all my friends past and present you have all touched my life and made me who i am today. Even if its been 20 years since I've heard from you I am always available to talk or help you out any way I can. Way to many awesome people have left my life in the past year!! RIP DJ Littlefoot!!!"

I think it was reading that this morning that brought this post into my mind. Even if those in your life have not seen combat, the scars of life sometimes tear deep into our souls. We all should make ourselves available like this to our loved ones. We may never know what our kindness may mean to someone going through a rough time.


By the way, I can not wait to be holding my husband's hand here soon.

Soon.