wounds on and off the battlefield.

Many, many years ago I worked for a military organization. During this time, money was tight. I was working full-time with two littles in daycare, and at night, I went to school to finish my degree. My husband was gone. He was always gone. Training. Deployed. Gone.

Over lunch one afternoon, I was chatting with coworkers. I shared how hard it felt to pay the bills each month; something was always left unpaid, and there was always a late fee or disconnection notice to handle. I lamented over my husband's low pay. My boss, a retired colonel, responded, "Officers get paid more because they are educated and they work harder."

Since I couldn't pay my bills, I needed my job. So, with my mouth pinched shut, I quietly gathered the remnants of my PBJ and moved back to my desk. I shoved everything I wanted to say into my stomach and started back to work. Getting fired doesn't pay the bills. I needed running water.

Honestly, I wanted to introduce him to SGT Jimmy Regan at that moment. Enlisting in the Army at the same time, my husband and Jimmy found themselves in Ranger School together; after graduation, they were in the same squad, deploying with one another in the early days of the war. 

I remember the party before they deployed again. My husband wasn't going this time. He had joined a different unit and was scheduled to leave for training stateside. After spending the last hour discussing their upcoming wedding, I hugged Jimmy's fiance. "Don't worry; they always come home," I said. She smiled and hugged me.

Just a few weeks later, on February 9th we received a phone call that Jimmy Regan was killed in Iraq by an IED. I never told another spouse the pleasantry of "they always come home" because they don't. 

I wanted to tell my boss that Jimmy was educated (not that it makes his life any more valuable). He had graduated from Duke, and with law school in his grasp, he chose to enlist in the U.S. Army instead. He didn't enlist because he was less educated, wanted to exert less effort, or couldn't make it as an officer; he enlisted because he heard the call to be a soldier and answered. 

The reality is that my boss's sentiments have stuck with me. I saw my husband's sacrifice, my children's goodbye after goodbye, my own sleepless nights, our celebrating holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries alone, the funerals and memorials, and I resented his statement. He saw the enlisted corp as "less than"—being less, deserving less, doing less. 

They aren’t less.

Fast-forward 16 years to today, and we are still a military family, and I still think about my boss's words.

Currently, I work at a food pantry in the same town we met and lost Jimmy. Almost minutes after taking the position here, I was asked to fill the gap for food insecurity in the military. I was asked to offer emergency groceries for active-duty soldiers because so many of them couldn't make ends meet. 

Of course, my answer was yes, as I remembered long ago when my neighbors would leave bananas and milk at my front door because they knew my son and I were hungry. (A little over $600 every two weeks didn't pay the rent, keep the lights on, diapers on my son's bottom, and food in the fridge.)

At our food pantry, we chose to have emergency grocery distributions for active-duty soldiers and their dependents. In only four distributions, we have already served 278 military families who needed a week's worth of groceries… Almost 100% of these families are enlisted.

The reality is that enlisted soldiers struggle. They become soldiers because, in Jimmy's words, "...we have to do this," but their compensation falls short of need. Working within ministry for so many years—and being there myself—I know that those who struggle with food insecurity can't thrive. Maslow's hierarchy of needs, which we all learned in Psych 101, tells us that stability is not possible when basic needs aren't met. 

22 years after 9/11, we can see the impact a lack of stability and access to basic physiological, emotional, and spiritual needs can cause. While Jimmy is one of 7,057 who died in the war following September 11th, there have been 30,177 soldiers since 9/11 who have died by suicide.

Over 90% of the 30,177 are enlisted. 

Now, I don't have a study in front of me that quantifies which triggers ultimately led to the decision to end each soldier's life. But I do have a few insights gained solely from knowing many of those who have died by suicide and good old common sense. 

After 9/11, soldiers deployed more consistently and saw more war-time devastation than at any other time in our country's history. Personally, my husband has over 6 cumulative years deployed.

Not all battlefield wounds sustained were physical. The psychological wounds sustained during war since 9/11 are four times more deadly than bullets and IEDs. Jimmy died a hero—his life and death were heroic sacrifices, and he is remembered as one of the best this country has to offer. But, what about the soldier who comes home needing a stable environment to heal and can't afford to put food on the table? Maslow will be the first to tell us physiological needs must be met long before self-actualization is possible. That is—when we don't have enough food on the table, the healing process stalls. 

For so many soldiers the cycle was deploy, reintegrate, repeat. Over time, the cycle's wheel of "reintegration" into family life often abruptly stopped when the struggle to meet the most basic of needs acted as a debilitating spoke. House after house along installation residential roads were broken families, broken homes, and broken hearts.

There is something primal about the mindset of a soldier—an inherent sense of duty and purpose to provide, protect, and defend. With this mindset and psychological wounds that cause internal chaos and destruction, soldiers are tempted to believe that their death benefits are more valuable than their living presence. How many military spouses have heard the words devastating words you'd be better off without me…

While there are many devastating reasons soldiers choose to end their lives, I know that a large majority of them stem from an inability for their minds and hearts to heal. Like anything in society, taking care of people starts at home. Helping families develop stable homes where their basic needs are met is a crucial first step that seems to have gotten lost along the way and it is the minimum we should do. 

As we near the 23rd anniversary of 9/11, we must soberly recognize that the next war is likely around the corner. As we train our forces to fight and win, we must keep in mind that our military is strengthened and casualties decrease when our soldiers have what they need to thrive on and off the battlefield. 

Suicide doesn't happen in a vacuum; shame on us if we lament from one side of our mouth the astonishing suicide rate of our soldiers then from the other we echo my boss’s sentiments… We must take seriously the needs and stressors of tomorrow's war-time soldiers. 

…As JK Chesterton once said, “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” 

Let’s love him back.

Suicide is a difficult topic. Plant seeds of hope and love with Dylan’s story in the week’s Pray, Grow, and Serve. Download below for free! (As always!)

For more information about joyfully reawakening a culture of life within your domestic church, visit www.pelicanprojectministry.org.