I was holding and inspecting my chemical mask!
Though I had been in the Air Force for five years and was on my second deployment to Southwest Asia where the threat and enemy were near, I had never before been concerned about my chemical gear. I now realized I should have paid more attention during my annual chemical defense classes, one of my requirements as an Air Force navigator on C–130’s. Recalling how to put all the gear on was easy, but my worse case scenario was: I don all my gear and simply worry about dehydration. However, remembering where to inject the large needle from my gear into my hip without jamming it into my sciatic nerve was gaining prevalence on my list of important things to know.
It was fall 2002. Discussions of an invasion of Iraq gained fervor on television and on our base in Oman.
My crew and I had grown accustomed to flying into Pakistan and Afghanistan after September 11, 2001. Original fears of unknown operating areas and first-time combat operations had led to many prayers and self-reflection, but we had replaced them with card games and reading. With the exception of occasional small arms fire or a lucky rocket propelled grenade launch, threats to our C–130 aircraft were minimal. The walk many of us had taken with God to get through earlier tough times had been replaced by repetition.
This normalcy was broken that day when our commanders ordered us into a tent for a chemical gear refresher course. As they spread us apart to make sure we had enough room to inspect and manipulate our individual equipment, I noticed a difference. The more experienced master sergeant, not the young senior airman, was teaching the course. I suddenly realized this was for real. Something was about to happen. That moment brought the confrontation of war to the forefront of my thoughts.
Much like repetitive life back home, we pray more during challenges than seasons of ease. Whether we’re in the comfort zone or combat zone, God sustains us. If we routinely see life from an altitude of thirty thousand feet or fly through our day with our feet on the ground, God is there. He is with us when the sun goes down and when it rises, whether over the sands of a Middle East desert or an American suburb’s sidewalks.
You are the maker of sunsets and sunrises. Thank you for this day you have given me.
“I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me.” (Psalm 3:5)