I'm ready to go home even though...

This is probably the first blog that I've sat down to write and not had the words figured out before I even logged on. Maybe that means this will be something just astounding, or maybe it'll be a jumbled mess. Lets find out together.

This deployment has taken it's toll on Derrick. His faith in the goodness of man has dwindled some. With each deployment, it always does. In my head I rationalize that he sees the good and bad sides of war, of our presence in Afghanistan, but usually only hear about the bad. He's in a place where the impact we're making isn't always discernible. All the times we talk I try to feel the waters to see if there was a genuine good person who affected his life. That might sound crazy to some of you, and I don't mean a good US Marine or Soldier. I mean the people he works with in the community, the people he sees while on patrol through villages, the village elders, or the men, women and children on the streets.

I remember when he first got out there I was sending things for his team and Manan, the young boy who works for them. At the time he was twelve years old and he along with his brothers worked so they could care for their mother and smaller siblings. He may still be twelve, or his birthday may have passed. Derrick's been there well over half a year already. In any case, I don't hear stories about Manan as much anymore. I don't even know if he still works for them.

When I see articles about a thriving Afghanistan I make a point of sharing them with Derrick. It gives him hope that what he's doing is making a difference. It's hard for Derrick to actually grasp though because the sheer barbarism that he sees on a day-to-day basis. Where he's at they still don't have electricity, women are still second class (if that) with no education and no rights what so ever.

Today I saw something amazing. I saw the light go on, the one that told him- "we're here for a reason" & "we are appreciated." It came in a very random and emotional way, but it was what he needed to know he, they all have made an impact. They've shown these people a better way to live and they're grateful.

He tells me more about his job and the day-to-day then many wives hear & possibly more than many want to hear. I want him to be able to express himself when he needs to, no matter the cost for me. I have support here if I need it. He has nobody. There are no chaplains, no higher ranking people and no peers. It's him and his Marines and that's just unethical.

As we were talking this evening he told me that they went to talk to the father of one of the enemy KIA. He said he was so upset about his sons actions that he didn't even go to his funeral. He then went on to tell me what a nice old man this guy was, how upset he was because his son was fighting for the wrong side and how wrong his son was.

I can't imagine being in this mans shoes. I can't begin to fathom the emotions he is feeling. At the same time, I try to put myself in Derrick's shoes and I can't do that either. This had to be an emotionally moving day for him. For weeks he's talked about "getting the hell out of [t]here." Today he said, "I'm ready to go home even though there are some things I will miss about here."

I don't like that it's things like this that show him that they're helping make a difference, it's such an extreme difference than what I'd conjure up, as an American I mean. It's not a pretty happy picture with flowers and smiley faces. It's a mean, aggressive war, but in it, there are moments that have the ability to reach through all that dirt, sweat and armor to touch a hardened heart.

Another day where I feel completely humbled to life as freely as I do.