By Kira Beim
There are times when I don’t recognize my own father. There are times when he’ll wake up scared, not knowing where he is. There are times when he becomes a different person, someone angry and cold. At other times, he is the same kind, loving father I’ve always had. Every day I thank God that I still have my father, but I begrudge Him for not bringing back the same father that left for deployment, for harming and scarring someone I love.
Growing up in the army, your relationship with God constantly shifts. You praise His name, thanking the heavens when loved ones return, but when you find that your friend’s brother isn’t coming back, you send up a silent prayer in his place. You hate Him when your parents and siblings are taken away to fight in a foreign country. If they never return, you pray to God to keep them safe, while your fury burns at Him for never letting them return. My relationship with God is about as consistent as military life; it constantly shifts and changes and I have no idea what the next day will bring. At the end of the day, our lives are in God’s hands, and while it can be hard to accept what His plans are, I know that they are right.
