Memorial Day: On Waging Peace.

Truthfully there are a long list of names this Memorial Day that I can recite. We miss them always. And 10 years and some odd months later, we still say our Jaime’s name every day.

My friend Texas North said of her people,

“It is a daily process not to mourn, but I am ever thankful for these men (and women) and the intensity with which they served, the courage with which they led, and the heart with which they loved. We miss you fiercely, friends.

Until Jerusalem.”

I can’t deny I am longing for reunions. And this Memorial Day I was privileged to share how we honor the dead while we wait. How we live the best way we know how, because they can’t.
I’ve written here about Preemptive Love Coalition before, and today I was able to tell my stories in their space. It was hard, and vulnerable, and holy.

“I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.” 
— Dwight D. Eisenhower

I spent 14 years donning the uniform of an American soldier.

I have spent 11 years sending my husband off to war in the uniform of an American soldier.

I hate watching him pack his bags.

And when he stands framed in the wavy leaded glass of our front door, an olive drab duffel bag in each strong, tanned hand—well, my heart cracks a little under the weight of it. This is the image I carry with me, his broad back filling our doorway. Walking away.

And all the time wondering if he will walk through it again.

memorial day, homecoming, army wife

We have buried our friends. Some scattered across foreign sands, some casualties of war coming long after the battle is over.

My husband serves still, and I believe honorably so. But, oh, we are weary of waging war. And so I will spend all the years I have ahead waging peace so that no others will die….

I’d love for you to hear the rest of the story over at Preemptive Love Coalition. 

With love, and a heavy, grateful heart on this Memorial Day.

~M.

2 Comments

  1. Rick said:

    Thank you, Molly; remembering together is important. One of my former students was in Special Ops, joining up right after 9-11. I remember the joy and pride in him as he shared about the challenges of training, the joys of HALO jumps, the comraderie. I remember seeing him after his first deployment, his pride at doing well in the crucible of close combat. I spoke to his mom not long ago; after 6 deployments, he left the service–hip and knee problems from carrying combat loads. His mom told me that he loved the military–but after 6 deployments he told her he was tired of killing. He is still involved in training; I know he thinks his experience will help save lives among those who will carry the burden in future deployments that he has borne for so long.

    Luke Benjamin Holler was the son of my best friends from my military days (I got out 33 years ago). Luke was 5 days younger than my son; he died in Anbar Province in 2006. It is important we remember and speak their names.

    Molly, you are a peacemaker–I am privileged to read your thoughts, as are many here. And thank you for sharing names…

    June 1, 2016
    Reply
    • Molly Huggins said:

      YES! So important to speak their names, to tell their stories. Thank you as always for your kind and thoughtful words.

      June 11, 2016
      Reply

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