The Power of Prayer and Hand Turkeys

Last Thanksgiving, I reached a milestone as a parent. My son made his first hand turkey at pre-school. He presented it to me and asked if I would hang it in my office.

Now, I know a lot of guys who balk at hanging their children's artwork in their work space. Not me. I love every bit of it. I proudly took it to work and attached it to one of my metal shelves along with his other contributions.

A couple weeks ago I had the opportunity to move to a larger office. Late on a Friday, I moved all my books, papers and various electrical doo-dads along with my art collection. Things were still in disarray when I left for the day.

Over the course of the next few days, I arranged my new office. I soon realized something disturbing.

My hand turkey was gone.

I had my paper valentine, my little painted wooden sled, my Jackson Pollock-like painting (on glorious 11x17 paper, no less), and my bejeweled heart box. But no turkey.

I looked in the old office, in every desk drawer. I shuffled through files and folders and planners.

No turkey.

A few days later, my wife and son came to visit over lunch and check out my news digs. The inevitable moment came: "Daddy, where is your turkey?", he said with confused pleading.

Busted.

I informed him that I had misplaced during the move, but that I was sure it would turn up.

"Oh." he said, disappointed.

I did keep looking, though with less zeal, over the next several days. Every night, upon my return home, my son would ask me if I had found it. I always had to tell him the bad news. He remained upbeat, however.

As the days passed, he too lost hope, though. "Maybe someone threw it in the garbage", he said.

"Maybe", I resigned. I gave up.

Until today. I did not want to dissapoint my little boy. I wanted to find that turkey.

So I prayed. I prayed to God, the creator of the Universe, my Lord and Savior, to help me find a hand turkey.

"Please, Father, help me to find this. Not for me, but for my son, whom I love very much."

I started looking again, but my attention kept going back to one spot, one shelf. I recalled that I had brought a shelf over from my old office and placed it next to an existing one. Had I already hung the turkey when I put that shelf up?

I peered between the thin gap betweeen the two shelves. There was something back there.

Paper.

I grabbed an envelope and began to dislodge the item. Slowly, it came into view.

I had found my turkey.

Was it my prayer? I don't know. I have read that God will answer our prayers if they are earnest. I will not pray for a million dollars. I know that God would not listen to such a shallow and superficial request.

But today, I think God answered my prayer for a hand turkey from a wonderful little boy.

Suspicious Valor

I just recently read an article concerning individuals who "embellish" their military careers. The article covered those whose activities were outright illegal, e.g. wearing unearned medals, officially referring to themselves as "Colonel" for financial gain, but most of these men justlied about their military activities. I had no idea that Stolen Valor was such a big problem.

I have met men over the years who were quite obviously full of it when discussing their military backgrounds. So often, people join the military thinking it will be just like the movies with action, excitement, and rapid advancement. I think these men found themselves in dead-end careers and quickly left the service. When speaking to those who would have no way of checking, it is tempting to tell them anything to keep them interested. It is just not that exciting to tell people how you did data entry at a base in Witchita for two years or how you swabbed the deck of a refueling vessel in the Mediterranean.

Don't get me wrong. Any stint in the military can be honorable and worthy of respect. But one has to be proud of the truth, however boring that truth might be.

I used to wish my time in the Navy were less exciting. The six years I spent on active duty were the hardest of my life (so far). When I tell people about my service, it is not my wish to brag, but rather as some sort of latent therapy. I hated the Navy most of the time I was in. All I wanted to do was get out and go to college. It was physically, mentally, and psychologically exhausting. But I would do it all over again without hesitation.

I was fortunate, in some respect, that I had a job that would only make me grow. Things I learned from my service, I still use today. I am not just talking about engineering concepts, but abstract concepts as well. The military, when followed correctly, will instill integrity, character, and honor. The men who lie about their service by saying they were in Special Forces or members of Seal Team Six never truly learned these concepts and should be ashamed of denegrating the actual members of these esteemed groups, who ironically enough, rarely speak about their experiences.

Here is a quick test. When someone speaks about their military experience, listen to whether they refer to "we" or "I". The miltary functions by way of teams that works together; each member is a part of a well-oiled machine. There are no individuals in the true miltary spirit. That is why you always hear about the actions of battalions, regiments, units and ships, never Seargent-Major Jones or Petty Officer Smith.

For my part, I was indeed partially responsible for the care and feeding of the nuclear reactor on a U.S. Navy submarine. Most of it was routine. We ran diagnostic tests and periodic maintenance. We monitored plant systems. And we cleaned. And cleaned. We cleaned inside the normally irradiated reactor compartment, but it had to be done. On most ships, my rank of Second Class Petty Officer (E-5) may have elevated me to some sort of minor leadership position. On a submarine, it meant more pay and little else.

We travelled to exotic ports and worked hard. We even did things I am not allowed to talk about, but those things were not nearly as exciting as you could imagine. Mostly we left port, sailed around, trained, ran casualty drills, and came home.

Many of the men who operate on stolen valor got caught because they wore medals they had not earned. They made the mistake of wearing medals rarely seen or hard to come by. None made the mistake of wearing the Medal of Honor (which are usually bestowed posthumously), but they got darn close. Even the most disgruntled sailors I knew took a certain amount of pride in displaying the medals they earned. And to a man, we were honest about it. We were a small community, and word would spread fast if someone had been bestowed some extrodinary honor. There was accountability, something these men did not have to deal with when meeting most civilians. It was usually other veterans that called their bluff.

For the benefit of full disclosure, here are the medals I was awarded. Each is listed on a form called a DD-214, which is given to each member upon their discharge. If it is not on there, you can't wear it.

Top Left	Meritorious Unit Commendation	Given to ships who distinguish themselves during an operation. This is one of those things I can't talk about.
Top Center	Good Conduct Medal	Given to individuals who serve more than four years without getting in trouble.
Top Right	Navy Expeditionary Medal	We got this for roughly the same reason as the first ribbon.
Bottom Left	National Defense Service Medal	This was the first one I earned. During Desert Storm, everyone in the military got one of these. Everyone. I wasn't even on a ship yet. We used to call this the McDonald's Employee of the Month ribbon.
Bottom Center	Sea Service Deployment Ribbon	One can wear this for being deployed from one's homeport for longer than ninety days. I have two, so I can put a little star in the center.
Bottom Right	Arctic Service Ribbon	Given to those who have been to the Arctic Ocean. My favorite, actually, because you don't see it much. I didn't know you could get awards for throwing snowballs and playing football.

My military career was not the most exciting, but hey, they do make movies about my shipmates and me, and I have some great sea stories that I can bore people with for a lifetime. I'm proud of every minute.