Go With God, Nelson

I met a man last night. No, not that kind of “met”. I’m a happily married woman. I mean, I met a man who is being deployed to Iraq. His name is Nelson.

This wasn’t the first time I met someone who either was leaving for or had just come back from Iraq. But for some reason, meeting Nelson stopped my heart.

I worry about the soldiers who fight for freedom every single day. But this was different. All of sudden, “soldier” had a name. A face. And friends. All around him, he had friends. And he was leaving them. I felt somehow guilty. Responsible.

What if he doesn’t come home alive? Now he’s no longer just "a" soldier. He’s Nelson. He’s this guy from my town who has friends and family. And he hangs out where we hang out. He sat where I’ve sat and walked where I’ve walked. And he was real.

I had never met this man before, but suddenly I became concerned for his safety. I didn’t even know him, yet I instinctively wanted to protect him. To say, “don’t go”.

When we read the body counts in the newspaper of those who died in Iraq the day before, you can’t help but feel bad. But it’s a distant sense of guilt or sadness. It’s not the kind of guilt or sadness that sits squarely on top of your heart and makes it heavy. It’s like your brain is reminding you what guilt and sadness feel like and you recognize and acknowledge it, but it doesn’t engulf you or encompass you.

Putting a name and a face on a solider changes the entire game.

Go with God, Nelson. Be safe, and come home alive and in one piece.

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.