Six years

Yesterday was an anniversary date I’d be remiss not to mention.
On Wednesday, May 16th, 2001 I flew out of Atlanta in four button suit, white shirt, tie and black name tag; I landed in Denver, Colorado and caught a connecting flight into Cody, Wyoming. I landed a little after 12 pm. My parents and siblings were all there with the exception of Nathan, who was anxiously engaged in the cause in Philadelphia; my grandparents were also there; my high school friends Bryan Tipton, Nick Wilson and Travis Marchant finished out the number. It was the first time I’d seen any of them in two years, five days.
For two years I’d dedicated everything I had and was to something much greater than myself; as sweet as it was to see familiar faces it had been much more difficult to leave. It wasn’t until four days after the most incredible experience of my life (to that point) ended that I allowed myself to think about what I’d just left behind. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
Now, on Wednesday, May 16th, 2007, I continue to reap the rewards of those 24 months of an occasionally flawed but loyal time of service to my God. Incredible as it seems, words fail me.