You
asked me why I wanted to serve. And while it may have seemed that I answered
you, the truth of the matter is that I did not. Not entirely. Honestly, I was
on the nervous side, and when I'm straddling that fence I tend to just keep my
mouth shut. I don't feel like I answered that question in its entirety and I'd
like to take the chance to do so.
Everyone
wants to serve for their own reasons. Sometimes it's the same reason as the
person standing next to them, and sometimes it's not. I think more often than
not a lot of the answers sound very similar. I think many people join for the
right reasons and I imagine that a few join for the wrong ones as well.
It's
hard to put into words what I feel in my soul. A calling, if you will. It's
harder yet to explain why I've ignored it for so many years. Reckless even. The
years I've spent trying to find a place where I feel I can truly grow. From the
moment my synapses could fuse together in the form of a memory I was asking my
father what it was like to serve. I was taught service to my country is
something that should be given freely, without judgment and never without
support.
I have spent my entire life being proud of my
country. I have spent my entire life sending my pride and my love to our
troops. I have never held back and I have never faltered in my support. I have
always been able to picture myself so clearly standing amongst them. Not just
on the sidelines, swelling with pride for them, rather swelling with pride to
be a part of something. Something bigger than myself. Alas, I always told
myself it wasn't for me. Until I asked myself why, why is this not for me?
Why
is this not for me? I have a million reasons. But none of them are as good as
the few reasons why this is for me. Not a single one can compare to the Missing
Man Table. The first time I saw that ceremony, my heart broke. But my resolve
was solidified. Right then and there. I found my resolve had been there, all
along. Buried beneath my selfish reasons, exposed by that table, set for one
with a simple white tablecloth and an upturned wine glass, unable to toast.
You
asked me why I wanted to serve. I don't have an answer. I don't have just one
answer. I have many. I have 22. I can't promise you I will be the best. I have
shortcomings. I can't promise you I won't falter. I am human. I can't promise
you I won't break. I am flesh and blood. I can't promise you I won't fall down.
I am practical. But I can promise you I will try my best. I can promise you
that I will regain my footing. I can promise you I will put the pieces back
together. I can promise I will get back up. I can promise you that you will be
hard pressed to find anyone with even half the fire I have.
