On this Memorial Day, I am thinking of a thousand details—large and small—in preparation for our upcoming move. I’m awash in paperwork: medical records, passport forms, household goods itemizations, car transport documents, property management contracts, and the like. And yet, in the deep waters . . .

I’m thinking of Maya, widowed at 25, her husband the first SEAL killed in Iraq in 2006. I think of how beautiful and brave she is, and how beautiful and brave Marc was too.

I’m thinking of Steve. Yesterday, I put on my gold trident pin he gave me and wore it on my sweater to church because I was full of admiration and pride and because it was too easy to let the day pass–with all we’ve got going on–without stopping to remember.

Today, I want to say something to my husband, my silent warrior, who so amazingly coexists at the tip of the spear and the heart of our home:

Dear Steve,

Sometimes I forget that you are part of this elite brotherhood of SEALs. I see you changing diapers and making dinner and putting gas in my car and throwing the kids in the air in the front yard.

And then—all of a sudden, out of nowhere–and I’m reminded of how much you do that I never see and never know. I’m reminded of how hard you’ve been pushed and how much is demanded of you. I am aware that you are remarkable.

Thank you for choosing to do the difficult work of being a faithful father and husband while you, simultaneously, do the difficult work of freedom fighting. I will never know what this demands of you.

Thank you for going to work every day and for coming home, too—neither of which is easy.

Thank you for being all in, all the time.

Thank you for chasing adventure and for taking me along for the ride.

Thank you for loving me.

Today, I want you to know I believe in you. I believe in us. And I am so incredibly proud of you.

Fair winds and following seas, my Pirate,



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