“Men, Special Forces is a mistress. Your wives will envy her because she will have your hearts. Your wives will be jealous of her because of the power to pull you away. This mistress will show you things never before seen and experience things never before felt. She will love you, but only a little, seducing you to want more, give more, die for her. She will take you away from the ones you love, and you will hate her for it, but leave her you never will, but if you must, you will miss her, for she has a part of you that will never be returned intact. And in the end, she will leave you for a younger man.”
James R. Ward, OSS
Go back and read that again. Slower this time. Take it in.
The old guys (OGs) in Special Forces know this one. “Men, Special Forces is a mistress.” The passage, attributed to James R. Ward, OSS, describes a love that pulls you away from the people you love, shows you things you cannot forget and takes pieces of you that will never be returned intact. Then comes the last line: “And in the end, she will leave you for a younger man.”
I gave everything I had to Special Forces and she took everything I gave. My heart. My body. My attention. Years I cannot get back. Pieces of me I still cannot find. And I kept coming back for more because I loved the men, the mission and belonging to something that demanded everything. There is a closeness forged under fire that a man carries long after the shooting stops. I will never apologize for loving my brothers or the sacred duty I was given to bring them home.
But somewhere along the way, I confused being needed with being loved. I confused the mission with my meaning. I gave an institution the authority to tell me who I was and I did not understand the cost until it no longer had a place for me.
Then it was over.
The mission continued. Another man stepped forward. The world kept moving, the wars continued without me and I drifted for many, many seasons. I had memories but no meaning. Experience but no purpose. I knew how to operate in chaos, make decisions under fire and stand beside warriors and help them move. I did not know how to live with the man who remained when all of that was gone.
I had spent years preparing to survive the battlefield. I had done very little to prepare for the silence afterward. Without a mission, I struggled to see why I mattered. Without men depending on me, I struggled to know where I belonged. The mistress had taken my heart and I had no idea how to get it back.
Then I began to see light through a human. She could see a man when I could barely see anything worth saving. Through her, I began to recognize grace: someone staying close enough to see the damage and loving me there. She could not do my work for me but her presence helped me believe there was work worth doing.
Then Chet believed. Kitty prayed. John built. Those words mean something to me because each of them put love into practice. John got in the ring with me, asked hard questions and stayed with the answers. He challenged the stories I used to protect myself. He helped me begin the difficult work of knowing who I was and taking responsibility for how I would live.
My family, the Band and the CORE community became my new place, my new love. I found people willing to know me beyond the uniform, beyond the stories, beyond whatever I could still produce. I found a place where I could bring the part of me that shakes, the part that grieves and the part that still needs help.
I do not have to remain useful to remain worthy of love.
That is a hard truth for a man who built his identity around what he could endure, accomplish and give. I am still learning to live it. I can grow old here. I can tell the truth here. I can ask for help without surrendering my place in the Band. And I am expected to grow, because this is BUILT TO LEAD and love has teeth here.
Someone can look me in the eye and tell me that my behavior is hurting the people I love. Someone can call me back to my CORE when my choices contradict what I say I believe. Someone can refuse to cooperate with my excuses and still stay beside me. Belonging gives that truth somewhere to land. A builder believes in you enough to challenge you, stays close enough to practice with you and expects you to take responsibility for your life.
This new love also calls me home – – – to my wife, to my family, to God and to the people He has placed in front of me. That matters. If I use building to disappear from them, I have carried the mistress into another room. I can make an idol out of a calling as easily as I made one out of a uniform. I have to watch that in myself. The people closest to me deserve the presence I so readily give to everyone else.
My Band consists of human beings. We will disappoint each other. We will age. We will lose people we love. I cannot promise that every relationship will remain exactly as it is today. But this belonging has a deeper foundation. Through the love, prayers, belief, and hard work of these people, I began to see Jesus more clearly. He became my true north.
He will never leave me for a younger man.
He knows every part of the man standing before Him. He sees the wounds and the choices. He calls me to repentance and gives me grace to keep walking. My place with Him does not expire when my body slows down. My purpose can deepen as I age and what I have lived can become something I give in service to another human being.
There is work for me here. I can build. I can listen. I can help someone tell the truth and find the courage to live it. I can love my partner with the attention she deserves. I can become more present to my family. I can follow Jesus into the ordinary, costly work of loving the person in front of me.
Special Forces will always be part of my story and my brothers from those days will always have a place in my heart. But Jesus has my life and the people I love deserve my presence. My family, the Band and the CORE community have helped me find a belonging that makes room for the whole man and a purpose I can practice for the rest of my life.
I gave everything I had to the mistress. Now I am learning how to give myself to the people who stayed.
Together We Transform – – – always, ALWAYS TOGETHER.
