A Proud American: Easier Said, Than Understood

I’m proud to be an American. I’ll let that sink in. Now, before you read any further, think of the first image that pops into your mind when you read the sentence “Proud to be an American.”Before you assume that I’m going to be someone who goes way overboard on this topic, let me tell you why It is that I am proud to be an American.

                Let’s be honest with ourselves here. Most people who say that “I am proud to be an American,” are probably the ones who run their yap a little too much. They are the ones you see on T.V and cringe as they are outspoken, arrogant, brash, and rude. They are probably the ones who get in arguments just for the sake of it. As to their main argument? “America is better than any other country because We ARE better.” Wow. Sound logic there buddy. Way to make us seem even more arrogant. I've seen those types before. They’re also the ones who you see arguing the “We-were-here-first theory.” Again, astounding comprehensive reasoning skills. Little known fact though: Most all of us as Americans are descendants from immigrants there champ. You missed that memo. And my personal favorite, the “Other-culture’s-don’t-think-or-act-like-us-theory.”  C’mon now that gets old real fast.  So I can understand why sometimes we as Americans can get a little ashamed in saying we are proud to be American. We don’t want to be wrongly associated with that group of Arrogant Americans (as I call them), so we hide. I’m here to say we should have a humble, appreciative pride in our nation.

Before I explain why I am proud to be an American, let me say that this does not have anything to do with politics. So for those of you who were thinking that I was going to go off on one party or another, sorry to disappoint you. This writing will hopefully have nothing to do involving current debates that have been going on in our country (i.e.-Gun control laws, gay marriage, abortion, etc.) No, my pride of being an American goes way deeper than current debates.

 A couple weeks ago, I had the opportunity to travel to our nations capital- Washington D.C. It had been several years since I had been to D.C. It’s funny as you grow older how you begin to appreciate the value in things. The museums and monuments that I ran past as a kid with not a care in the world were now places that I wanted to spend all day at. Yes, I actually wanted to go in buildings and museums. Again, I guess it’s true what they say-as you get older you learn to appreciate things more. Instead of seeing stone monuments and going on to the next thing, I took time to listen, sit, and observe.

By the time we hit D.C on the first day, it was pretty well dark outside. As we got unpacked, several of us decided to walk around the city that night. It shocked me how D.C is very much a working district, and how the tourism dips in the colder months. As we walked around D.C at 8 PM on a windy, December  night I couldn't notice how quiet it was. Barely any cars moved on the streets and in the distance the capital loomed, brilliantly lit in the night. I don’t know what came over me, but right at that moment I realized again how proud I was to be an American.  Similar to DC residents, anyone who lives in a place like D.C would probably get bored of seeing the capital. Something about that building, the history that took place in that building made me once again proud.

                Another moment that stuck out to me was when we visited the World War Two memorial. I had never seen it before, and if you haven’t seen it I highly encourage you to visit it the next time you go…heck, Google image it to get the idea. It encompasses you from all sides when you walk in. Something about being in it was so peaceful to me as I sat, yet  I felt very close to the tremors of a war that almost nearly ripped apart our nation and the world. As I sat quietly reflecting, an elderly man with a cane slowly labored by and went up to one of the slabs where there was a state name etched in. He silently wept as he traced his finger in the concrete outlines of the state, and then moved on to the next state name. He did the same thing, and then moved on to the next.  I sat in a state of shame and amazement, because I had no business to be even watching him. I felt I was intruding upon his private moment. But I continued watching him. To me, the memorial was a symbol of achievement in conflict that symbolized a part in which America had helped in. It was put and constructed with the greatest care. Every stone, rock, slab, and concrete had it's place in re-constructing hallowed memories. To him, this was something greater than just concrete and a pile of rocks that were put together. It was a silent appreciation of a sacrifice that happened a very long time ago.  I watched as the elderly man slowly finished his traces and walked away. Nobody noticed him, but I will never forget for as long as I did the moment that I witnessed.

                That is why I am proud to be an American. Simple sacrifices that good people make for each other every day, and the hard work of their efforts. It sums up what an American is and should be. I firmly believe the spirit of America does live on, and it is up to us as Americans to be o.k with making sacrifices for each other, and helping others. This is what America was built upon and the foundation has been laid deep down by those who came before us.

                Yes, I know, America is not perfect nor will it ever be. Yes, America and we as Americans make mistakes. We need to get better at certain things, and help others out more. I’m not a politician and thank the Good Lord I am not. However, I believe in hard work and the spirit of helping others out. I believe that the foundations in which America was built upon have shown out throughout generations and generations of those who helped build it to what it is. We are the ones entrusted now to make sure that the spirit of America lives on. So as I type in this moment, I am proud. For I realize how fortunate I am to grasp what it truly means “Proud to be an American.”

Finding Stillness within Chaos...

Finding Stillness in Life

 

                Camp Grayling- As I looked thru my sights and centered them in on an Armored Personal Carrier that was sitting on a hilltop 250 meters away, I couldn’t help but feel nervous as heck. Shooting at anything is an adrenaline rush like none other. My fingers trembled as I loaded rounds into my magazine and again peered thru my scope to double check that everything was well enough to proceed. I was so focused looking thru my scope that I could feel the blood pounding in my ears. Yet deep inside me there was stillness. There was a quiet confidence that deep down told me that I done this shot before, and had trained for hours and hours running gun drills.  Being in that place blanketed and reduced all of my natural body reactions—the excess of adrenaline, narrowed tunnel vision, and trembling hands. Inside I knew I was going to hit the target.   I adjusted my scope again, my made final corrections and pulled the trigger for the spotting round. A small flame shot out as the tracer burned through the air and deflected off the hull. I was dead center. My assistant gunner tapped my shoulder and tucked in close to my side before yelling out the final call. “Back blast area all secure…ROCKET!!” There was a slight pause as I depressed the launch lever, and pulled the trigger. The rocket left with a loud and violent explosion of color and sound. I struggled to maintain control of the launcher as the rocket roared out. I saw nothing thru my scope as the rocket had kicked up dust, dirt, and rocks, temporarily blinding and deafening me. Less than a fraction of a second later I got my result. The sound of a rocket exploding and an intense heat reflecting back towards me told me I had hit me target...then there was eerie stillness…

 

It’s hard to find stillness in life isn’t it? Sometimes we forget what stillness is or even what it looks like. Usually when we try to be still, we usually end up getting dragged away by the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I will be the first one to admit that I am guilty of this. In several conversations I had with friends this week, the topic of “stillness,” was brought up. It’s something I finally realized I was supposed to write about. I often forget the meaning of being still. Stillness means to say nothing. It means to simply listen.

 

As Americans, we hate being still. We associate “busy” as a good thing, and an expected way to live life. “Oh hey Mehari how’s life?” 9 times out of 10 I will reply, “Oh it’s busy, but good.” Don’t believe me? Here’s a test. Next time you go to a movie theatre, restaurant, or someplace that has a line where people have to wait for something, see how many people can’t seem to stand still. Some will pull out cellphones to try and look busy, some will adjust their clothes for the billionth time, and others will fidget with their keys. As a culture we hate being still. Trapped inside a car, train, or airplane? No worries, just fire up your Wi-Fi device or iPod and rock the time away!

Time is the biggest enemy of stillness. I mean after all, they say time is everything right? Time is money. Time to go. Time to do this. Time for that. I don’t have time. I demand your time. Everyone operates on time. Everyone operates plugged in. Smart phones, tablets, iPods, radios, TV’s all are components of time. They demand our attention. We get so plugged in that we forget what stillness is and what stillness sounds like.  Once again, I have my hand raised. Guilty as charged.

One of the verses that I NEVER UNDERSTOOD in the Bible was from Psalm 46:10. Be still and know that I am God.  To me it made no sense at all. By knowing God, I thought it meant that I had to actively pursue and seek him. That’s what most people are led to believe. We forget that God always pursues us. It’s in that stillness where oftentimes he may be found…

It’s oftentimes shocking what you hear when you intentionally take time to be still. In 2007, I experienced what being still meant in a trip I took a trip to Alaska with a leadership development team. If you have never been to Alaska, it’s some of the most breath taking scenery you could ever lay eyes on.  Snowcapped mountains are everywhere dotted with green forestry at the base of these gigantic mountains. Every day I woke up surrounded on every side by these beautiful mountains. Every day for an hour and a half each morning, each one of us had to spend time alone in devotions. Devotions are never fun at 8 AM. I thought it would be a waste of time, and I didn’t want to do it. Yet everyday I would split off from the group and wander around for an hour and a half. Let me tell you that in the mountains of Alaska, by yourself for an hour and half, you learn quickly to be still. You learn to hear things you wouldn’t normally hear. A gentle wind breeze, birds chirping, bee’s buzzing, and other random things. After a while, I started to just listen. There wasn’t anything else to do. Stillness just sunk in.  In fact, the stillness became loud. It was like I had turned on something inside I never knew I had. It enveloped me. It was in that stillness time, where God taught me who he really was to me. He was everything. He was that still, quiet, reassuring presence radiating his love down on me. It was truly overwhelming. It’s something you have to experience in order to grasp but in that moment I knew that God would always fight for me because he loved me no matter how bad my flaws or shortcomings were. God isn’t stupid; we’re just sometimes too stubborn to think he can help us.

 

Try it. I dare you. Take 15 minutes and just be still. It could be turning off the radio when you’re usually listening to it while driving or while you’re at the gym working out with your iPod in. Heck, light a candle at home, turn off the lights in the room and just be still. See what happens. What’s the worst that could?  After all, he created you right? Why wouldn’t he want to talk to you? You’re his kid.

 

The Power of Forgiveness

1stSgt William Bodette

           “Gentleman, I wake up every day with a smile on my face”, drawled out 1sgt William Bodette to our company. He paused a second to spit a stream of tobacco juice on the ground before continuing with a smirk on his face.  “And I suppose you wonder why’s I wake up this way” He scanned our company with that steel  look in his eye before continuing.  “Its cuz every day I wake up knowing that God put me on this earth specifically to take human life.  That’s my sole purpose gents, and it’s my only purpose in life.” He stopped to shift his rifle and point towards the looming mountains in the distance. “So think about that thought when things get hard on this little hump of ours. You got 1o mikes to prep, we’re stepping in 15.” He strode off. Cole leaned in towards me. “This is going to be a straight up death march.” And it was.

          1sgt William Bodette is a living, breathing war hero in the Marine Corps. He has spent more time in the Corps than I have been alive on this earth, and with 6 combat deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan to say he has combat experience is an understatement. There is a jagged scar that twists down from the side of his mouth, down to his neck that he got in combat. There are always Marines that I encounter where I think to myself, "The Taliban or Al-Queda really don't know who they are messing with, I'm SO glad he's on my team."  1st Sgt. Bodette is one of those individuals. If you think I'm lying, google his name. he's a big deal.



 

True to his word, the hump was hell on earth. There’s a difference between hiking and humping. Hiking is for leisure. You stop, take breaks, and enjoy the view. Not so with humping. You move with speed and purpose. It’s a test of will. Almost like a power walk but you’re loaded down with gear. That hump will remain the most difficult hump I have ever done or will do in my life.  The California Mountain range we were climbing physically and mentally destroyed our company. Every time we thought we had crested the final ridge, another ridge line appeared in the distance. The mountains kept going up higher and higher stretching further and further.  Two and a half hours into the hump, the straps on my 75 lbs. pack had dug into my shoulders making my arms go numb. “Well, that’s one less thing to worry about,” I thought. Truth was I was in misery. The mountain seemed to go straight up, creating a gradual increasing strain on my back and a slow burn in my legs. I glanced around. Pain reflected in every sweaty face. Marines soon started dropping out like flies. I looked over. One junior Marine struggled to carry his weight beside me. I knew what I had to do. “Hey, strap the baseplate to the back of my pack.” Relief filled the younger Marine’s face as he gratefully added the weight to my pack. My misery turned to agony. But if there is one thing I take pride in, it’s my ability to hump a pack. I’ll go forever; it's simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Another Marine behind me was ready to drop out. “Hey,” I screamed at him, “Don’t quit! Grab on to the back of my pack, and let’s go!!!!” In reality I didn’t know how much further I could go myself. I looked over at Cole and Caterina for some mental reassurance and saw the same pain deep in their eyes. "Are we going to make it?" I wondered. We all did, but by the end of our day's hump, our company was stretched out over a quarter mile. It truly was a death march. I had been pushed physically and mentally past what I thought I could accomplish multiple times. The Marine who held onto the back of my pack the entire way thanked me as he limped off to sit down. “Mehari, I owe you,” he then looked down at his feet, and then back at me. In pain he smirked, "Think you can help me with these?" I already knew the drill. I took my K-bar knife out from my pack and cut his bootlaces off. His feet were so swollen from the weight he carried; he couldn’t get his boots off.


 


 

No one likes carrying weight.  It’s heavy, painful, and burdensome.  I think back to the physical weight I carried on the day I humped up the mountains.  No matter how slow or fast I walked, the weight followed me, firmly strapped on.  In fact I got so used to the weight that my body actually adjusted to it without me even knowing. It’s the same way in life as well. Some of us have baggage from our past that we carry around like a weight strapped to us.  Some of us walked around with this weight for so long that it is firmly entrenched within our lives without us even realizing it.  As we accrue this weight, it begins to control how we act, move, and look at life.  We begin to react from encounters and situations based off of this weight that we have collected. We begin to be defensive against people, shutting out those who actually do care and in turn, it drags us down and hinders us from being free.  In some instances it controls every aspect of our lives.

Those “some of us” sentences written in the above paragraph are directed at no one other than myself. I recently realized I was operating out of my hurt for a long time. I was carrying weight around that I really had no business to be still carrying around. It was preventing me from moving forward freely. Sometimes the burden of hurt shapes to yourself, and you begin to hold onto those things. I realized I was self-inflicting myself, and as a result I was walking around with a “chip” on my shoulder.

I began to seek out people where we had hurt each other. It was a long list, and I was shocked by the time I was finished writing it. Things with people ranged from simple misunderstandings to deep, entrenched hurt on both sides.  Let me tell you that there is NOTHING more frightening personally for me than confronting people who have either hurt me, or I them.  I would rather just say nothing, deal with it, and move on. I guess it was similar to the pain of having a bone healing improperly and the docs have to break it all over again to set it right. That’s exactly what I had to do. Some people accepted my apology; some wanted nothing to do with an apology.

 

Yet I walked away from it all free. I physically felt as if weights had fallen off my back. There is nothing more freeing than the words “I forgive you,” or asking for forgiveness. There truely is power in forgiveness.
 The more you can forgive, the more you can step closer to what you were truly called to live. A life lived in its full and deepest meaning...

Friendships That Last Forever

It’s cool how friendships are developed aren’t they? Think about this: Your close friends that you have, at one point, were complete strangers to you! Whether you met a year ago, or have known each other since grade school, friendships take time to build. Great friendships to me are ones that are honest, sincere, and encouraging. I am so grateful for the friendships that I have with so many of you. Believe me when I say that. Friendships have had a huge and positive impact on my life. More importantly, friendships are important to everyone!

 

My friendship with Justin Cole is one in particular that I would like to take a second to write about today. Why people wait until funerals to share about what a person has meant to them I do not know, but I’m a firm believer in giving credit and praise where it is due. One look at Justin and I, and one would wonder how we are friends. Justin and I are nothing alike. He’s white, I’m mixed. He’s a country boy, and I’m a city kid. He’s reserved and analytical, and I’m outgoing and spontaneous. We don’t always agree on everything, but we respect each other’s opinion immensely. We are the closest of friends, and he has been there thru thick and thin for me. It made me realize how important it is, and how rare it is to have a true friendship. As Proverbs 27:17 states ”As Iron sharpens Iron, so one man sharpens the countenance of another.” I believe this is an exact example of my friendship with Justin. We talk or text almost daily, encouraging each other, bouncing ideas and opinions off each other.  This is just a little highlight reel of my friendship with my good friend Justin. Included are attempted bits of humor.

August 2008- I remember the first time I met Justin, was my first day checking into the Marine Corps unit in Grand Rapids. As a Pivate First Class, I was wary of everyone I met for fear that another Marine  of higher rank might snap on me for being somewhere I wasn’t suppsed to be or invisibly doing the wrong thing. I was pretty much on egg shells. I stood off to the side of everything that was going on. “Was there nobody else a PFC in this unit?” Finally I spotted another PFC like me, just off to the side. I walked over. “I’m Mehari.”

                                                       He extended his hand, “Hey, I’m Cole.”
Wary of being associated with the wrong type of Marine, I watched Cole like a hawk that drill. He had been there one month longer than I, so I stuck around him since he seemed to know what he was doing.  He didn’t get yelled at, didn’t say much to anybody, but went about and conducted his business as if he had been there a year.  Being that we were the only two PFC’s in our platoon, we got stuck doing everything together. EVERYTHING. Mopping floors, cleaning bathrooms, 2 AM fire watches and working parties. Yet I never heard him once complain….ever. And that’s how we became friends.

                #1- Get a friend that doesn’t complain, and pulls their own weight.

Nov 8. 2009- Marine Corps Ball. I couldn’t wait to tell Justin the news…I knew it would just eat him up. “Hey Cole,” I greeted him.  “So, I just got a suite.” I paused then delivered my casual shot. “What did you get again?” Justin looked down at my receipt, then back up at my grinning face. He then calmly took my receipt, dialed the number, and requested his own suite. He then hung up the phone and turned around, “I’m sorry what did you say?”

                #2. Get a friend who isn’t afraid to go round for round with you

May 2010-It was about 3:35 Am In the morning and I was tired beyond words. I walked over to Justin.   “Wanna take your break right now?” He couldn’t have agreed more, his eyelids heavy. We walked over to the break room and sat down. “Bro,” I said, “Earlier when we were out there unloading the crates, I fell asleep standing up. I never even knew that was possible.” Justin and I decided to take jobs working 3^rd shift at Meijer for $7.55 an hour in addition to the already 40 plus hours we were working at our other full time jobs. We were working 80 to 90 hours a week. Justin shook his head. “I know I fell asleep with my car in park, keys in the ignition, and engine running…” I stopped. “Seriously  Cole?”

 “Yah…”

“Don’t worry man, we aren’t gonna be here forever.”

 

#3. Get a friend who wants to succeed in life as bad as you do….

Aug 20. 2010- @ 0200- I was shook awake. “Hey Mehari, you have fire watch” a voice said, then disappeared.” We were on week 1 of training in the cold mountains of California. While it was perfect weather in the day ( tramping around in 75 degree weather, with snow on the ground) the nights were unforgiving. Without the sun, the temps dipped into the teens, and snow fell. The wind blew all night, offering no relief. To make matters worse we had no natural barriers to offer us protection from the elements. I shook myself out of my warm sleeping bag, gasping as the cold wind whipped thru my cammies. It was COLD. I reached for my rifle, grabbing its frozen barrel and walked to my pack for water. No luck, the water had froze inside my canteen. I had an hour of walking around until I was relieved. I went to go find the other fire watch who was stamping his feet to stay warm. Whoever it was, we would suffer together at least. “Hey brotha, welcome, quite the night eh?.” It was Cole.

#4. Get a friend who can instantly make a miserable 2 AM fire watch better. 

April 16, 2011. 4:27 AM. “Dan grab the pen, if he makes a move, stab him.”  In a cost saving move on a road trip to New York City, we spurned sleeping in a hotel, opting instead for the comfy leather seats of our Buick Lacrosse luxury rental car. We drove around New York/Jersey until I found a huge, abandoned parking lot where we could agreed would be suitable to sleep. With both of us being wary of he neighborhood, I picked a spot in the very back corner of the parking lot, underneath a huge willow tree.  I backed into it, knowing that we could see anything coming up on us. We leaned our seats fully back, and closed our eyes. Resting, but not sleeping. A few hours later, lights splashed acrossed the windshield. I raised up on my elbows, wondered if it was cops checking our suspicious vehicle tucked far away and hidden in the lot. Instead a sketch 15 passenger van and a ford explorer approached our car slowly, unaware of us and our seats all the way back. “Cole are you seeing this?” I whispered. “Yeah man.” I glanced at the clock. They were 5o yards and closing. “You got a knife on you?”

“It’s in my bag… in the trunk.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

We began silently searching for weapons in the car. All we had were pens. By this point the cars had crept up on us, and boxed us in. The 15 passenger van on my left, and the Ford Explorer directly in front of us, and the tree and fence behind and to our right. Cole and I were so low that the people inside hadn’t even seen us. “Dan, grab the pen, if he makes a move stab him.” The guy in the van got out. I hit the automatic window button, and popped up. “Excuse me can I help you?” The guy recoiled as if he had been hit with a shotgun blast. “No! Uh! Sorry dude, we saw this car here and thought it would be ok to check it. “So you boxed us in?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Justin uncapping his pen. The guy continued to stammer“Uh, no dude, sorry, uhh….” He quickly turned and retreated back into his vehicle and both vehicles took off. They say friends don’t let friends go to jail. They are right there beside them in the next cell over. Would have been true had the guy continued….

#5 Get a friend who is willing to save money by sleeping in a car, and then even more willing to throw down at 4:30 in the morning…

August, 2012- Justin’s wedding day.  Do I even need to explain this one? It was awesome. Justin and Courtney. Awesomer. Reception? Probably one of the best nights of my life. There is nothing better than being surrounded by friends and family in celebration. I can stake pride in the fact I’m an honorary Cole family member.

#6. Get a friend where you are also friends with the spouse. It’s a win-win. Everyone is happy.

 April 2012- Wind is ok. Sand is ok. The desert is ok. Those three combined over a period of time, well, can make life straight up miserable. Sand does not discriminate. It found itself in my food, in my socks, in my rifle, and in my sleeping system. The day usually ended with chow as the sun set over the desert plains. Usually this is where Cole and I would gather, huddled around the Humvee’s to protect sand from getting in our chow and recap our days. Sand was everywhere and our burnt  faces must have been a sight to see. “You look terrible.” “Yea, well thanks, so thoughtful of you.” Yet we found ways to make the best of our situation. “It’s crazy to think that God created all of this,” I said, my eyes scanning the endless desert as we sat crunching on sand filled chow. “That’s a great point, kind of makes you wonder why someone wouldn’t believe in a God.” “You got that right.” We would usually end our conversation there, our thoughts elsewhere as we sat in each others company.

#7 Get a friend who isn’t afraid to be true to themselves.

Isn’t it awesome how friends encourage each other? I’m truly thankful for a friend like Justin. He has been a solid , reliable and a true friend. There aren't very many people in this world that I would trust with my life, but Justin is without a doubt one of them. I could go on with more stories of our friendship, but thats an ongoing story! It however, wouldn't suprise me if at ages of 70, we were two old men in rocking chairs shooting shotguns off the back porch.

#8 Never underestimate the value of a true friend.

 

 

I Don't Have an Answer...

“Mr. Mehari, I’m in Jail…”

There are some things that you struggle to comprehend when hearing it for the first time. Especially late on a Friday night after being done with work.

 

“Excuse me, what did you say?”  

This was one of those prime instances.

There is no clear solution to this one unlike the ones that I usually write about.

No live and learn moments came through on this one.

 

Usually in a situation that I have, I work through it.

Keyword: “I”

Meaning: if I’m in the situation I can control, it’s something that me, myself and I can handle.

That’s why I’m in my line of work…

"I said I'm in jail"....the subdued voice sounded quizzical, as if the person didn't believe their own words either.

“What’s the charge?” The voice on the other end paused. I listened dumbstruck as they said it…"Seriously??"

Anger came. “What. Were. You. Thinking? Did you not think???”

Then helplessness...“ I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell, I over reacted and I apologize for that …"

Then worry…“How much time are they saying?”

“6 years”…the voice on the other end barely choked it out….they already had done the math.

This was someone who needed his mother, not the inside of 4 walls for 6 years.

Release date: 2018 at 21 years old…

High School:GONE

Sports: GONE

Friends:GONE

Survival mode: ON

“There’s more Mr. Mehari…” I froze…”It wasn’t just me”….Dear Lord….

“What do you mean...”

“…..Mr. Mehari, ____ was with me….WE’RE IN HERE TOGETHER…”

I began to pace, again, shellshocked.

“Same charge?”

“Yea,” came the whisper.

“Same time?”

“Yea”

I tried to picture what I was doing when I was 15 and 16.  Probably running around on a gym floor somewhere.  Still a kid. The voice broke down on the end of the line “I’m so sorry….” They began sobbing…”I didn’t know who else to call…”

Tears came to mine…

And for one of the first times in my life, I didn’t know what to say….

 

 

 

Trusting the Process...

So I re-found one of my one of my Dad’s biggest pet peeve’s.  As we sometimes do in the evenings, we’ll sit on the couch and catch a football game in the evening. That night there was a rivalry football game between Washington vs. Washington State. The game was tied 28-28 and went into overtime. On the first play of the game, Washington’s QB dropped back for a pass and threw an interception to a defensive lineman. My dad and I reacted as any casual football fan would do. We started hollering for this lineman racing down the sideline towards the end zone as if we personally knew him. “Don’t stop!!,” I screamed at the tv, “Go, go, go!!!” my Dad hollered.  If he scored the game would be over. As this lineman raced towards the end zone (Which would win the game), he began looking back every few steps. Suddenly a Washington player came into play. The Washington State lineman desperately looked back again and tried to take a new angle towards the end zone, running almost oblique to the sideline to evade the Washington player. We could see it wasn’t going to work. He was tackled at the 3 yard line. “Why did he look back?” my Dad moaned, “You never, ever, ever, look back.” His voice became sterner as he began to lecture the player on TV. “If you didn’t look back you would have scored and this game would have been over.”

It brought back my high school sports playing days. My family was without a doubt my biggest fans. They were at every game on the sideline hooting and hollering for me until most of them were hoarse (Ok, maybe that was only Dad). One thing that I learned from him is if you get a breakaway, you NEVER, NEVER, NEVER look back. “No matter what Daniel, focus on what’s in front of you and what you can control.” So many times in games when I had a breakaway I could always hear my Dad’s voice in the back of my mind fueling me as I raced towards the goal. “Never look back.” I developed a mindset that no one was going to ever catch me on a break away. Ever. And to the best of my knowledge, no one did. That mindset paid off not only on the field, but in life as well….

“Gentlemen, I regret to inform you, but you will not be going to Afghanistan.” On a hot, humid August day in 2011, those words reached my ears and shattered my world that I had been living in. For the last month, and stretching back almost a year and a half, my battalion had been training to deploy to Afghanistan. For the stretch I was in, I had lived and died every day with scenarios and situations that we trained in from sun up until past sun down. Day patrols, night patrols, casualty evacuations, IED lanes, call for fires, live fire ranges, demolition ranges, language classes, history classes, radio classes, the list went on. We got updates from what was happening in the area we were going to in Afghanistan and we trained to be ready to handle those situations. I had mentally and physically steeled myself for that deployment. I still remember the feeling of eeriness I got as I signed off on my will and wrote my last letters to family and friends. All at the age of 22.

 “So we aren’t going then…” Even 8 hours later back in barracks the night of the announcement I still hadn’t gotten it. I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach and slammed me to the ground.  I shifted my eyes to look at other Marine's faces around me, and all I saw was the same look. Rage. I could feel it building up all around me. Already several Marines had punched walls to no avail, thrown chairs, and whatever else it seemed reasonable to toss. We had worked so hard, and invested so much time and effort into the build up. I took it personally. Several Marines, including myself had lost close friends; no, brothers over in Afghanistan. I felt as if some person higher up on Capitol Hill deemed it unnecessary and with a flick and swoosh of a feather tipped pen took it away. Did they not realize the sacrifice? Marines had sold cars, houses, moved family in with family, and told employers to hold their jobs. I felt cheated. I felt as if someone had ripped away what I had worked so hard towards helping out with. We were necessary. And someone had said we weren’t….The media had said that things were cooling off over there anyways. Right, right, that’s exactly right. Go tell that to the 3/5 Marines who lost over 30 Marines and had over 200 wounded in 6 months of tour…

 

Oddly enough, I think back to my Dad’s words…..”NEVER, NEVER, NEVER look back.” I remember coming back home and my family and friends being super over joyed. I was in shock. People always had to put in their two cents whenever they found out. “Oh they don’t need you guys over there anyways,” or “Wow, well I’m so glad you’re safe.” I sympathize with my sister Senayit, who was told this week that they were cutting her 9 month tour short. She was only 5 months in, and mentally prepped for 9. So she will come home only to go back out again. While this is a joyous occasion for my whole family, and believe me no one is more excited than me, I also have to be sensitive and know that this is a process for her because I was in her shoes at a time.

It will bug me for the rest of my days in the Corps. 1/24. The first Marine Corps Regiment to be told to stand down and not deploy…but I think to what my Plt. SSgt said to us when we first found out. “Well boys, it looks like the good Lord wanted some of you to still be here on this earth, because believe me where we were going, not everyone was going to make it back.” Then I think to my Dad’s words that offer encouragement to the future. “Never look back.” And while sometimes it’s ok to look back and wish what could have happened, sometimes it’s better to look towards a brighter side and future of things.

Trust the process!

Yolo, Honduras, and NYC subways

How many times do you think you’ve heard the quote “Life is only here for a moment, so you had better live it up.” Or let’s rephrase that. How many times have you heard the terms “YOLO, HAM, or FISH?” That’s what I thought, more times than what you cared to hear…

 

 

 

Ponder this: What are you living it for?

As a young working professional, I easily feel pressure that comes with trying to “live life for the moment.” You know, wanting to have work success, drive a nice car, and have an awesome pad to live in. Along with that comes the responsibility of making sure my future is secure by setting up my 401K, contributing to my mutual fund, and making sure I stay up to date on my monthly health insurance premiums. "After a while it all seems a bit absurd, but you find yourself sucked into it."  Many of my friends and acquaintances have made it their number one priority to be successful. I also admit that I oftentimes get caught up in the desire to accomplish and succeed. Yet what’s the end result by doing all of the above? What am I living for by doing that?

 

 

This desire to succeed and accomplish was probably my #1 fault in college. I could not WAIT to be done with college, because it was preventing me from going out and making a name for myself. I wanted to be out there. Wherever “there” was I was more than willing to go. I went back to Hope College a couple of weeks ago to have coffee with a professor, and I got a sickening feeling in my stomach as I drove through Hope’s campus. I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way until it hit me. When looking back on my college experience, I don’t think I did very many things that I could stake pride in. In fact, I almost felt as if I was spinning my wheels for 4 years. There were so many people who told me to slow down and enjoy college life. While I mostly ignored that advice I realized that it was in part true. I hate being wrong  but I will admit where I probably could have made some stamp of impact or change in my 4 years in college, I chose instead to look my situation in a negative way. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being driven and wanting to accomplish your goals and dreams. Just remember being driven has its pros and cons. Don’t overlook what’s right in front of your face. Often times you’re so focused on the long term goals that you overlook short term priorities. So with that being said,

#1. Learn to let go…

Wakeup calls are awesome aren’t they? NOT. Well here’s a little wakeup call I experienced this week in a telephone conversation with a close friend of mine (and Aquinas graduate) Mark Dahveed (far left).

Me: “So now that the election is done and you’re graduated now, what are you going to do? Going to stay around GR?”

Mark: “Umm, not really…sorta…yes…no…well…it’s complicated…”

Me: <Awkward silence> “Umm…ok? You know you do have a degree right?”

Mark: Well, I know that, but I’m thinking of leaving in a couple of weeks to go to Honduras.

Me: <dumbfounded>“Honduras? Umm….ok…did you find a job down there?”

Mark: “No… not really, well…sorta. I’m thinking about teaching English down there in a school. I’m not sure.”

Me: <some -sort- of- probably- even- more- awkward- silence> oh, that’s awesome man.

I was shocked…but right as I was shocked, I was also floored with the utter fact that I actually was shocked. I knew Mark. His chill, laid back demeanor often times saved me from many a yellow cards back in our high school soccer playing days. It was perfectly normal for him to want to do that. Heck, that’s what he went to college for. It left me scratching my head wondering how deep I had sunk into the “regular, NORMAL, rigors of life.”  So, here’s my wakeup call to you. If you think that being “successful” means staying in the USA and doing the normal thing every college graduate or American citizen does, I’m afraid you are wrong. By the end of our conversation, I was so excited for Mark’s situation. Almost to the point of wanting to go with him (I called him the next morning before he even had a chance to even get out of bed). He didn’t have to “know it all” in order for him to act, but he had a desire to go. It left me happy knowing that Mark is following his calling and purpose. It also made me realize again that there are bigger things out there than just MY wants and needs. Thank goodness for gracious and forgiving friends. Mark knows there’s an earth that needs impacting... This brings me to my next point.

#2. Don’t let your current situation define who you are. The world is broader than your situation.

 

Ever been in a gym recently? Ever notice how many people have headphones on? Pretty much the entire gym population.  When I went, I could count a handful of people who didn’t have ear buds on. Yet, I’m not here to place hate. Heck, I even have my iPod on when I go. It helps me concentrate. But when my iPod broke due to me sweating so much (I’m sure it had salt deposits built up inside of it which fried it when I plugged it in), it made me self-conscious when I didn't have it. Yet it also made me more aware of my surroundings. I was able to have conversation with non-headphone wearers and established a few chatting buddies at the gym. Here’s what’s worse. Ever been in a New York City subway? Haha, it is LUDACRIS! Here are people who probably ride this metal tube every day, squished together like sardines and it is DEAD QUIET. No one speaks, heck, I tried to make eye contact with an elderly lady to give up my seat so she could sit down and she flat out ignored me. Most of them probably recognize each other from riding the same lines every day, but no one says a WORD. Everyone is on their iPods, cell phones, nooks, and laptops. Wow, is that really how everyone lives nowadays? Towards the end of my night in NYC, a man came up to me and asked for a ride, and I obliged. Everyone who was around me that heard him ask for a ride was completely in shock. But It felt good. Which leads to the final point.

 

#3. Don’t let the rigors and grind of everyday dim your desire to help others wherever they may be.

So it took an explanation of YOLO, a conversation of Honduras, and a NYC subway for me to realize all that again. Don’t let it be you! Step outside of your bubble and help someone.