Be brave and fight hard to protect our people and the towns of our Lord God.” -- 1 Chronicles 19:13
Stephanie Braxton, a pilot deployed in Afghanistan, sits in the cockpit of her Apache helicopter. This is her third combat tour. There’s almost nothing she’d rather be doing. “It’s better than driving a race car," she claims. That’s Steph – pure optimism!
But war is hell, especially for a Soldier Mom. Family is a concern she’s had to reconcile. She misses tucking in her 4 year old son Joey at bedtime and spending quality time with her husband Jack.
Her job is demanding and dangerous. Helicopters drop like rocks when hit by mortar fire. No soft glide path.
The desert air is hot – like a dog’s breath fuming over bared teeth. Nighttime is the most difficult. Darkness allows terror to sneak up on you unannounced, and unwanted. It also brings shelter to cry anonymously.
Sand has become the enemy that cannot be fought by rifles. It works its way into socks and undergarments. The small grains eat into the flesh with each booted step causing unbearable blisters.
She’s not supposed to remember where she has been for security reasons. She even tries to forget about home sometimes in case she would be captured and interrogated. Braxton worries that war is teaching her to hate - that as soldier, she will always be at war with someone or something.
They don’t speak of fallen comrades heading home under flag-draped caskets. Maybe they’re the lucky ones! They’ll have no memories of the bunkmate who lost a leg, the wailing mother holding her bloodied infant, or the old man who vanished into dust after a powerful explosion. Nor will they be returning to their childhood bedrooms at their parents' house after the war.
Sundays make it all worthwhile! She’ll call home from inside a long green tent. When she hears the sound of little Joey in the background, she’ll wipe away a tear before he gets on the line and asks ever-so-sweetly, “Mommy, when you coming home?"
She’ll remind him again that she’s there already! “Honey, look around,” she consoles. “I'm the sunshine on your shoulders. I’m your imaginary friend, and you are in my prayers tonight.” Wouldn’t it be nice, she considers, if the only ‘arms’ necessary . . . were for hugs?
Jack’s back on the phone now. “I really miss you darling. Don't worry, we’re alright,” he says. “I know that I'll be in your dreams tonight. I'm the beat in your heart; the whisper in the wind. I'm with you every step!”
She hangs up – it goes by so fast. Her faith brings her peace, and with peace there is hope.
Heavenly Co-Pilot – Bless the men and women of our armed services – those actively serving and those who have served to protect the freedoms we enjoy every day. Keep them and their families safe Lord, and be the conduit that allows them to know that we love them and pray for them daily. Amen
