Why Do You Want To Serve?

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.