Frustration

As I finish off the last couple rows of the helmet liner, I reflect on the frustration of being a family member of someone currently deployed. When the news talks about someone who is injured or killed, my heart stops, wondering, worrying. After all, I haven't gotten a response to that last email yet... And every stitch of the cap becomes a prayer, a prayer for safety, for patience, for peace, that they can feel the love that goes into each stitch.

And of course, there are those who do make it back, at least bodily. NPR is doing a series this week on soldiers at Fort Carson who suffer from PTSD and other mental wounds and the trials and tribulations they've faced as they come back, including hostile commanders. One soldier even said "You know, there were many times I've told my wife -- in just a state of panic, and just being so upset -- that I really wished I just died over there [in Iraq], cause if you just die over there, everyone writes you off as a hero."

Our treatment of these guys is disgusting. We've sent them to endure war for us, then we call them weak when they return hurt. After I finish my projects for Dad, I think my next several will be for vets and the homeless.