14 GUIDEPOSTS.ORG
drown out the criticism from peers—
that I was too dumb to make a ca-
reer in the military. Right out of high
school, I’d completed basic training
and gotten my orders for a one-year
tour in Iraq. I felt meant for the job.
Combat was nothing new; I’d been
fighting my whole life.
Now I felt total surrender. My
struggles were over. If this was death,
then I was willing to accept it. I’d
signed up for the military knowing that
this could be my fate. I was okay
with it.
Then something caught my eye.
An image appeared before me
as if projected on glass. It was my
mother on the day I was born. She
held me close, something I never re-
membered her doing when I was
a little kid. Still, I felt comfort in that
moment.
Then another image appeared. This
time, it was something that didn’t
happen: my mother giving me up for
adoption. I saw myself being taken
away from her. What is this? It took
me a moment to understand. This
was what could have happened. This
was the avenue my life didn’t take.
I swam higher. More images ap-
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left my father and he was out of
our lives for good. I saw the day she
married my stepfather and started
to pull our lives together. I saw the day
I enlisted in the military. I saw my
grandfather, a veteran, telling me he
was proud of me. Important mo-
ments that made me who I am.
With each image, I went back to
the emotional place I’d been in as I
lived them. Pain. Relief. Fear. Expec-
tation. And with each scene came
a counterscene, images of what
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es had been made. If my mother had
never left my father and he remained
a toxic presence my life. If I hadn’t
joined the military. I shuddered when
I saw I could have ended up either
dead or in jail if I hadn’t enlisted. I
knew that I was meant to understand
that my life had direction and that
each step along the way had been
shaped by the choices made.
Now I was close to the surface. I
heard something.
“I love you, Babe.”
“We love you, Daddy.”
I stopped swimming. I couldn’t see
anything. No images anymore, just
voices. Somehow I understood that
these were the voices of my wife
and children. But how was that pos-
sible? I was 19, far from fatherhood.
I didn’t even have a girlfriend. Yet
I was absolutely certain. My wife’s
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tience. The voices of my children—a
girl and a boy—were sweet and
trusting. I felt wrapped in the most
incredible love. It was intense, as if
all the love I’d feel for my future family
was concentrated into this one mo-
ment. This role—of being someone’s
husband, someone’s father—just
felt right.
In that moment, something
changed. I was no longer compla-
cent about dying. I wanted to expe-
rience this love. I wanted to see my
wife’s face and hug my kids. I made
the choice: I was going to live.
At that instant, I became acutely
aware of crushing pressure. My