When You Come Back Down

You were in sixth grade when you announced that you wanted to go to West Point. Dad had given you a book he had just read, The Long Gray Line, and for you, that was it. You read about a class that graduated in war times from an institution charged with educating some of our military's greatest leaders. An institution whose history department proudly claims, "the history we teach was created by those we taught." From that moment every baseball practice you went to, every accelerated math class you studied for, every trumpet solo you perfected, was all for one purpose: to get you into West Point.

Along the way, you turned into a pretty great kid. I remember when you called to tell me that you had done it. That John McCain had given you his primary nomination to the academy and you were finally going to be a part of that Long Gray Line.  Back then I didn't think it was possible for me to be any more proud of you than I already was. I was wrong. Since you started West Point three years ago you have learned a new language, won awards for leadership, and are ranked in the top ten percent of your class. You have traveled the world and passionately learned about cultures different than your own. You've competed in international military competitions and have trained with those blokes across the pond. You've learned about sacrifice and how to take care of people. And now you have a symbol of that hard work. Of that bond you share with your classmates, and those who have gone before you and will go after you.

What has always inspired me was your ability to create goals for yourself and work tirelessly, relentlessly, and fiercely until you achieve them. You don't stop until the job is done. And even then, you're on to the next one. I know I'm the older sister, so really this should be the other way around, but watching you go after your dreams, has given me the courage to chase my own.

At the age of eleven, you set a goal for yourself and in 271 days, you will accomplish that goal. It seems like a long time, and yet I know it will fly by. So I'm going to try and cherish those 271 days. During which you'll still be here and safe, unburdened by the difficult choices and tasks your future career will inevitably ask of you.

But when they are up and all of this becomes real, my prayers for you won't change much. I will pray for your safety. I will pray for your protection. I will pray for those you lead and for those who lead you. I will pray that you always know how very much you are loved; and that wherever you are, whatever you're doing, your family will be waiting to welcome you home.