"How Are The Troops?"

I have a friend who surely must have been a general in the life before this. Although he is not currently serving our country in the U.S. Armed Forces, he knows more about battle tactics and how to disarm the enemy both physically and psychologically than almost anyone I know. He recently returned from Ghana, Africa, where he had served an ecclesiastical mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for two years. The dangerous and primitive lifestyle was absolutely perfect for him. When he came back, we saw each other a few times, and after most of the awkwardness had worn off, he came up to me and asked me a question that threw me completely off balance.

"How are the troops?"

My family. I scrambled for words, trying to find something optimistic to say.

"They're doing great," I said with a weak smile. That was all I could manage before I stepped away and found a deep couch corner to hide my confused and befuddled mind in.

Truly, my family is doing well. We certainly are in the tough middle of bringing together two very different families, but all things considered, we are doing well. So why was it so hard to answer my friend's question?

Thinking about my strange emotional response later, I realized something that I had been unconsciously dealing with ever since the marriage of my mother.

These were no longer my troops.

All my life, my family has been my central focus. Being the oldest child of an LDS, homeschooling family, my social, religious, and work life have all been completely family oriented. Add to that the unstable first marriage of my mom, and I became the second mother. It isn't uncommon to find in situations like mine; that's just the way it was. I was fiercely loyal to my family, and would do anything for them, particularly my youngest siblings. I loved them all dearly, and was there for them, comforting, teaching, nurturing, protecting, and housekeeping. Granted, as I entered my teens, I began to find that there was a life outside of my family, and I wasn't at home as much. However, I was still in my position at mother's right hand, and had responsibilities and obligations which fell under such a role. When things got really bad between my parents, I was there, holding my terrified siblings, reassuring them that all would be well, knowing in my heart that a marriage such as this one couldn't last, and silently fearing what would happen when the inevitable divorce finally came. But I was always there for them. And they always needed me.

Until now.

My mother has now left her first, unhealthy marriage and has recently married a hardworking man of God in the temple. He has taken his position as man of the household with complete capability and love, providing the balance the family needs to be whole. God brought to pass a marvelous work and a wonder with this family when He guided my mother to be re-married. There is no need for the kids to be parents anymore. I am no longer the head of my troops. So... Now, what am I?

What does a retired captain even do?

When I first lost what had been my main purpose for so long, it was jarring. I began sleeping in later and later. I stopped eating much, unless it was convenient and easy to grab. Then, one day, I never got up. I wasn't sick, lame, or disabled. I simply had no desire to live life that day. I didn't want to die or anything. I just had no interest in life. I truly believed that there was no-one who needed me to keep living life. No-one to improve for.

And then I remembered my future kids.

Ever since I was young, I have looked forward to the children I would bear and raise. Sometimes, I think I can feel them here with me, waiting for me to be ready to bring them down to earth. If there is anyone who is worth living the fullest, best life I possibly can, they are the ones.

I am still not quite sure who I am, nor have I figured out what my role is in this world. However, I now have a focal point, a vision of where I want to get to, and that makes all the difference. It is most definitely not the perfect focal point. It will most likely evolve to one more whole and refined as time moves on, but for now, my future children are the reason I get out of bed every morning. It is a small but life-saving step.

So thank you, dear friend, for your question. You may never know what you have done, but I am sincerely grateful for your strange choice of words. Maybe there is still some work for this young retired captain, and maybe, just maybe, she will find herself back out on that battlefield.