Knee Deep in the Hooah!

One of the ways I process stress and trauma is to take that which has left me feeling devastated and review and examine it as a metaphor or simile. I often wind up comparing these difficulties to patterns, idioms, motifs or other general themes. For example, I may look at a difficult season in my life that causes me to think of a marathon runner. When I first see a connection like that it is the nature of my brain to begin to draw many comparisons and contrasts to the various characteristics and attributes of the object and how it relates to the situation at hand. So for a marathon runner I may see the parallels of my life reflected when I am dealing with things that revolve around the need for steadfastness, long suffering, endurance, and commitment. I think that today I see a new symbol emerging for me. It’s one I have not faced before.

It’s not a grand scheme, it’s not a romantic motif, nor is it comical or very clever. I am not “measuring my life with coffee spoons” at this moment, but rather I am standing, but not alone. I am standing and I am looking at a finish line. The finish line is so close and so tangible, but it is one that I am not allowed to cross at this moment. The course that leads to the finish line is long. It is hard, and all who tread that course will dream of crossing the finish line. Some start and have to stop so quickly that the finish line was only a distant dream - a distant dream that is very painful to lose nonetheless. Some are forced to stop right in front of the finish line. It feels cruel. Maybe this could be considered a “Moses moment.” We are gazing at the “promised land” but we are not permitted to enter. We have not been told that we may never enter, but for now this finish line will not be our victory crossing.

The notion of the uncrossed finish line was embedded in my heart and mind when I was discussing Friday’s injury with Bryan yesterday. He ran a 4-mile race the morning of his stress fracture. He ran it in spite of the fact that he was hurting in that hip. It’s the nature of my husband to not allow pain to stand in the way of doing what he should do. He ran it, and he was just a few meters from the finish line when he heard the tell-tale “pop” sound that sent him tumbling to the ground unable to even sit up yet alone walk. At that moment — that single moment in time, my husband had just missed two finish lines that were right within his grasp. He missed the finish line for the run, and now we are realizing that he has missed the finish line for graduating with this class. He told me he had visions in his head of the finish line for the run, and how incredible the symbolism of that pivotal moment has become for him. He knew right then and there that the other finish line would not be crossed within the time frame originally thought.

We are having to not only watch our new found friends, comrades, sisters and brothers leave us behind, but we have to stand on the opposite side of the finish line and cheer them on. When you stand on this side of the finish line your job is to encourage and support. The time may come later when you are the one who is allowed to finish the race, but for now you have taken a new position. This can be a very serious test of your character — can you let go of the hopes you placed within your own plans quickly and sufficiently enough in order to exhort, and not discourage those with whom you were once running? They are still your comrades and you still have a responsibility to them. An injury does not release you of the bonds that have been made through many weeks of intense training and close living quarters. Mr. Hooah! is proud to sit on the sidelines where he is temporarily placed and celebrate the victories of his fellow Candidates as they run and will cross that finish line. I heard no envy or bitterness in his voice as he told me last night how incredibly proud he is of the men in his Platoon, and how he can’t wait to hear stories and hear of their graduation. See, It’s the nature of my husband to not allow pain to stand in the way of doing what he should do.

Mr. Hooah! is still recovering in the hospital. He should be released today (Monday). We don’t know where we are going, where he will be released to right away, or what decisions will be made concerning his future. We can only wait. Wait and trust. You would think that this would be a torturous place to reside. It’s not fun, but it is a very good reminder that we can only lay plans in place and do our very best. That is all. We can not predict what the next moment in our life will be like. We can not say arrogantly that things are within our grasp and nothing can confound our will. There is a benefit to having a will that is very strong, as long as it is embodied within a spirit that is contrite and humble.

So, what do you do with an elusive finish line? What do you do when you can literally see it, touch it, and know that it is inches from your face — but you can’t cross it? It’s simple. You look at the finish line as a new starting point. Instead of seeing the unreached mark as a point of failure, you see it as a new challenge and an opportunity to grow. You put your foot on the new starting place and you begin to run again. In reality all finish lines are really elusive. We never finish running the race, we never finish learning, and we never finish supporting one another. Every goal that is reached is simply the next step to a new set of goals. I think that Mr. Hooah! has many more finish lines and starting points to conquer and embrace in this life. I have no doubt that he will be running again in no time. He also knows he is not running this race alone.

Mr. Hooah!, on your mark, get set …. you will be told to “go” again very soon!

Tags: Army, Army Wife Posts, Shack Pack news, family life, updates //