In January, 1997, away from my family once again. We were stationed at Malmstrom AFB in Montana. I had been away on temporary duty in Colorado Springs for a couple months. I know, sounds horrible, doesn’t it? But it was actually a pretty difficult time to be away. We had not been back in country for that long, maybe a year. And Great Falls, though a quaint little town, was not exactly a garden spot, especially in the dead of winter. Terri struggled to keep her sanity with our sons; at that time, seven and five. Military life is hard on a family because no matter where you are, it’s not home. And more often than not, home and extended family are very far away; much further without the wonders of cell phones and video chats.
Prior to Montana, we were stationed in Japan for four years. When you’re in another country for that long, especially one in which the culture is so vastly different, families become very close. For us, that was one of the many blessings of that life…long past, now. Our base house in Montana was the best we had ever had during my military career. One of the almost unheard of features; a basement. It was just poured concrete and bare, but what a place. Lot’s of dodge ball games and wrestling matches in that basement. Jack, the stray dog that Terri and the kids just had to rescue, ate his way out of that basement, resulting in my having to acquire another door from a vacant base house…but you don’t want to hear about that. Needless to say, our little Montana residence was home and my family needed me.
We had a full size Ford Bronco at the time. What an awesome ride. After four years of driving tiny, little cars with a right-hand driver’s seat on the wrong side of the road, our bronco, with its two full bench seats (some of you kids wouldn’t even know what those are) and it’s eight cylinders struggling to get 12 miles to the gallon was a perfect vehicle for the journey to Colorado. I had attended the Air Force NCO Academy and the day after graduation, I set off for the long trip home. When I say, the day after, I mean I pulled out around three in the morning. Graduation didn’t end till ten. I left early because I was trying to beat the storm I’d heard about that threatened travel over the “high line;” a vast wasteland across the top of Montana with no stops for a couple of hundred miles. Everything was good until it wasn’t and my fears about getting stuck in the storm came to fruition. It’s not like you could stop and camp out; the wind chill in some areas was 30 below zero. In that kind of cold, it’s not uncommon for an engine block to freeze over. It actually happened to me once. Anyway, I had to keep moving.
I was smart enough to have extra gas, a bunch of blankets, and other stuff. I actually paid attention to those all to familiar base orientations. But it was a long haul through the night. Visibility was very poor and there were times I wasn’t sure if I was even on the road. Another fun fact about four-wheel drives of that era; you had to get out and “lock the hubs” on the tires to engage all the wheels…no cute little buttons to push like there are today. All I wanted to do was get home and see my family. I was tired, frustrated and cold. Fortunately, I had Phil Colins, James Taylor, Steely Dan and other greats along for the ride with the brand-new cassette radio I had installed before the trip. And in my rush to get home, I ignored much of the sheer beauty around me. The vast planes, the majestic (really) mountain range, and that huge Montana sky. All things I would never see again. My focus was on getting home…and that’s really what this is about.
In the past few years, I have experienced more long journeys through a different kind of wilderness. Not necessarily the kind where you can just get out and lock the hubs for a better ride. No, these have been periods of fear, frustration, loneliness and anguish. Long days of feeling alone even though there were people all around me. Days, admittedly, when, just like that trip from Colorado to Montana, I wanted to hurry up and get home. For Christians, that home is with the Father in place prepared specifically for us. John 14:3. A place where there is no suffering, no nagging hip pain, no struggle and no tears. No longing for or regretting parts of your past. The everlasting gated community where the only thing you need for entry is a mustered seed of faith and the humility to acknowledge the reality of Christ.
But there is a reason for the long journey. And there is a reason to stay in the fight. I’m not being dramatic…this is a fight. You know it is. That’s the reason behind the verse, “ I have run the good race, I have fought the good fight.” 2 Timothy 4:7. We are called to fight our pride, our fear, all of the fleshy things, our anger, our ego and most importantly, our doubt. For the glory of God, of course, but also that we may affect others. You see, the journey home is not just about you; it’s about everyone around you. People you may not even know. The person you open the door for at the market or when you actually allow someone in your lane…it’s not your lane, by the way. The story or your journey adds to others. You see that, right? Not just your struggles and successes, but how you handle them that may inspire others. Terri’s journey through cancer inspired others. Kim’s journey has inspired others. Both have impressed and humbled the hell out of me…literally and figuratively.
Wherever you are in the spectrum of life…this journey, do not discount your worth. Ever. When you do that, you discount God. And that, my friends, is the work and desire of the enemy. Remember, when you understand yourself and you understand the enemy, you are nearly invincible. Sun Tzu.
Don’t just accept the journey; embrace it. Your time here has a purpose and when the purpose is fulfilled, you can go home with a full heart. But don’t rush it. Take the time to enjoy the moments of respite God provides. And surround yourself with other warriors who will run and fight with you…not against you. You may not always be at peace, but you can certainly take advantage of the peaceful moments earned on this side of the dirt.
Don’t just hope…Know.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho