There are un-noted populations in times of war. Invisible, silent people in all nations whose lives are deeply affected walk past us at the gas station or grocery store and park next to us in the parking lot. They have a lot to say about one thing, but talk about other things instead. They don’t directly answer questions. They’ve learned to not mention anything on a calendar or clock, map or birth certificate, base or company.
They walk around with a lump in their throat and a smile on their face. If you push them too far, they might feel like smacking you upside the head. Nine out of ten times they won’t, and you’ll never be the wiser. They cry and pray in private.
They search for the best phone plans in other countries and apply for a passport. They learn which services are most dependable to deliver packages in and out of the country. They celebrate birthdays and holidays with someone missing. They keep their phones with them 24/7.
If you’ve ever hung the picture of a little boy or girl on your refrigerator, ever gone to school concerts and plays and fairs, ever replaced the tennis shoes you bought a month ago because he was growing just that fast, or ever prayed with that little boy or girl as you tucked them into bed, then you must understand that the warrior you envision – the one dressed in military fatigues – might look textbook to you. But to those invisible, silent people, he looks like the picture on the refrigerator.