No Words

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There are no words.


It is something that you know or you don’t. You have felt it or you haven’t. You have lived it or you can only imagine.

There are no words.

I knew that the song playing meant that they were about to walk in. I knew that when this song ended they would announce the arrival of the troops. I couldn’t sit down. Everyone else was sitting. They didn’t know. But we had welcomed C’s men home last week so I knew. I. could. not. sit. down.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” and then the screaming started. I didn’t hear anything else that announcer said. I couldn’t hear the person standing next to me. I don’t know if I really heard anything. It wasn’t until I watched the video on my phone back of them marching in that I realized just how much my body was shaking. There is no feeling like it on this earth. Chills, goosebumps, shaking, tears. And I hadn’t even seen him yet.

And then one soldier turned the corner and took the last step into the formation of 300 men and women  and I knew those shoulders. I knew that frame. I knew that stance. That was my C. Without question, without hesitation, that soldier was mine.

“Look at me, look at me, look at me!” I thought over and over again while my eyes didn’t leave that face on the complete opposite end of the assembly center. He stood perfectly still, as they all do, with his eyes very, very slowly scanning the crowd. “I’m right here!” my eyes yelled and then they met his. He saw me  and in his perfect stance he gave the slightest, slightest nod. No one else would see it if they weren’t looking for it, but I did and that moment will be mine forever. There were so many tears. Hundreds upon hundreds of the tiniest, simplest tears. The first time we saw each other. The first time I could look into his eyes from – what felt like – forever away and know that we were US again. That in this huge center filled with hundreds of people all trying to find each other while remaining so very still, so very focused, so very strong, we found each other. No words. No waving. Nowhere near in each other’s direct sight. We were pulled to each other. He found me while I yelled to him with my eyes.

You can tell me things don’t happen like that. You can tell me that people can’t feel each other like that and I will tell you over and over again that you are wrong. He found me out of the corner of his eye, across hundreds of people, without moving his head. That doesn’t just happen.

And then they released them to us and the crowd swarmed. Wives found husbands, daddies found daughters, parents found sons. In half a second the mob surrounded us, I saw my husband turn around to motion to one of his soldiers, and then he was gone and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Where WAS he?” In the path between us that had been empty instants before were hundreds of families embracing, running, crying, cheering, laughing, smiling, kissing and I couldn’t see my soldier. Desperately my eyes darted left, right, left, right. I couldn’t see anything. I don’t know if I could even process. He was gone.

And just like it happened the time before, my short, short body was standing on the bleachers looking left, scanning the crowd but not seeing anything that I wanted to see, when I heard it on my right, “You looking for me?” and there he was.

There are no words. There are hundreds of tears, thousands of goosebumps, but there are no words.

To see our children hug their daddy. To see him kiss them. To see him hold them. To hear Logan yell, “Daddy!” and Eli softly say “Da-da” over and over again are incomparable to any joy I have ever felt in my life.

To kiss him. To see him. To know that he is here.

There are no words.

I have him. He’s mine. He is safe. He is alive. My baby boys get their daddy back.

There are no words.

There are only tears. Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of the most beautiful tears.

My husband is home. Thank you, Lord, for keeping him safe. Thank you, Lord, for giving him back to me. Thank you, God, for giving the grace for the journey. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, God.

“Boots on the ground” – on this ground, on American soil.

There are no words.

No words but Welcome Home.


9 thoughts on “No Words”

  1. Megan, this is such a beautiful article. When Angela sent it to me to edit and upload, I was in my bathroom putting on my makeup. I opened the article on my phone and was glued to it! I was sitting in my bathroom, mascara in hand, and weeping as I read it. It’s what so many of us feel, but really can’t put into words, and you’re right, until you experience it, you can’t even truly imagine it.

  2. Wow! Great article. I got choked up while reading. I am so happy that your husband is home. ENJOY him 🙂

  3. Thank you, thank you, everyone! I don’t think there is any real way to put it into words. Such a wonderful moment! We are so happy to have him home and for EVERY ONE of his soldiers to have returned with him!

  4. well i was a complete mess after reading this. my husband is currently deployed and i just can’t wait to be the one waiting for him to enter the gym…i also believe in communication without words…my husband and i share this all the time…our own secret language. i remember vividly how i was screaming, shaking, laughing, clapping a lot and jumping up and down…but that moment that you speak of when you first saw him…my video was so shaky then i forgot i was filming when i did find him and he gave me that nod I started saying you see daddy, you see him while laughing and gasping for air cause I was also crying…thank you for sharing.

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