Things Are About to Get Interesting

It seems like an eternity since I last blogged. So much has happened, it’s difficult to know where to begin.

The Israel/Lebanon conflict this past summer was just another notch in the belts of our global neighbors, illustrating the Bush administration’s utter failure at diplomacy and foreign policy. But we didn’t stop there. Because while we’re over in Iraq pushing democracy, we are perfectly willing to support Israel’s desire to topple the ELECTED government body in Lebanon.

North Korea did what it said it would. It tested a nuclear weapon. But what’s really important is Iran.

Latin America has flipped the proverbial bird at U.S. corporations.

Meanwhile, more brave men and women have lost their lives in Iraq than the victims lost on September 11, 2001.

And then there’s Capitol Hill. So many scandals. So little time. I think it might have been page-turner Mark Foley that finally sealed the fate of the Republican party.

Rummy’s out. The Dems are in.

Now if we can just convince everyone (leave your political affiliation at the door) that an exit strategy is more important than anyone’s political career—we’d be headed in the right direction.

But I didn’t come here to talk politics.

I came here because my life is about to get turned upside-down.

Most people who read this blog do not know me personally. I’m just some faceless blogger with an opinion about everything from abortion to proper happy hour etiquette.

Those of you reading this who do know me personally, know that I don’t favor any particular political party or politician—except the smart ones. And I’m pretty embarrassed at the way my country’s global representatives have conducted themselves, past and present. I don’t subscribe to any organized religion. I am not registered with any particular political party… except I did register at the Wake Up Wal-Mart site. I hate that store and everything it stands for. And I finally cancelled my subscription to Columbia House.

But I digress.

Love does not begin to describe the feelings I have for my husband, my children, our parents—and every dysfunctional family member in between. I love my friends. I love my job. I love my dog. And Goofy freaks me out.

My husband served as an officer in the U.S. Army from October 2001 to May 2005. He was deployed during Operation Iraqi Freedom from April 9, 2003 to March 23, 2004. I know these dates by heart.

My husband is the bravest man I know.

He not only went into battle with the lives of 20 men in his hands (and brought them all back), he came back and married a woman twice divorced with three kids.

He saw the best and the worst over there. He drank tea with Iraqi men who just wanted their children to be safe and happy. He shared camaraderie with his soldiers that goes far beyond brotherhood. He took fire, and dished it back.

He called me from Qatar while he was on R & R. And he told me the story of SGT Eddie Merriweather from a nearby engineering company, whose body parts my husband placed in a Hefty bag. I will never forget that soldier’s name. And I can still hear my husband’s voice as he told me that story. Choking back tears of pain, anger and sorrow for a soldier's children who will never know how brave their daddy was.

My husband is a good man.

We both believed our government when they spun stories of WMDs and links between Sadaam Hussein and al-Qaeda. I was so proud of my husband and each and every soldier who served with him.

And no sooner did he come home, that reports of the atrocities at Abu Ghraib began to surface. That was the awakening. We were both so angered by these soldiers who took everything their fellow soldiers stand for—what our country stands for—and blew it all to hell with one fateful photo. And we started to listen. And read. And question.

Haditha. Guantanamo Bay. Secret prisons. Warrantless wiretapping. Halliburton. KBR.

So here we are, present day.

One week ago today, my husband received the packet. Orders to report to Ft. Something in South Carolina. Complete with travel vouchers, pay scales, Tricare information, and a complimentary book on how to prepare your family for your pending deployment to a combat zone.

We knew this was coming. In the last few months, my husband has been inundated with e-mails from random sergeants and staff sergeants, dangling big, fat bonus checks and quoting the bible.

And he will refuse his orders.

Our parents struggle to support our decision. But we are only acting upon the principles our parents instilled in us as children. Love your country. Stand up for what you believe in. Do the right thing.

He will not go to Ft. Something in South Carolina. And he will not serve in any capacity under an administration that has thumbed its nose at the UN Charter, the Geneva Conventions, and the Nuremberg Principles.

And because he will refuse his orders, he faces jail time. He could lose his job. We could lose our house. But more importantly, our kids will lose the stability and strength he has brought to our lives.

They don’t know it yet, but he is about to teach them the greatest lesson of their lifetime. Honor before obedience.

He is the bravest man I know. He is a good man.

And he’s my husband.