Losing this job reveals more than it takes away, and I think that has been the recurring theme for me across my career.

This became my tell tale heart. Every time I walked by the window or the back door I was reminded of the unholiness below, and I shuddered. It loomed over me like a dementor waiting to suck out my soul. I knew, my wife knew, we needed to build a paver patio so Bray had somewhere to play, and we would have a comfortable home base to hurl instruction from while sipping on an iced beverage of some sort.

My trust engine is off track. My trust is set somewhere else rather than where it should be. That trust is pulling all of my hope, emotions, reflections, decisions, and reactions along with it towards wherever this train is heading. I’m a hopeless dude. That makes me not a good man.

This weekend I called my dad to talk to him about some things that have been bothering me in our relationship. I expected defense. I expected to be told I was wrong, that I was seeing things incorrectly. I expected to feel silly for even bringing it up.

Instead, I was met with grace and a proactive plan on how we’d move forward.

War is terrible. It’s not a good thing. Killing the enemy is not something to wish on anyone, and to be in those moments is to illicit some deep form of carnal masculinity not fit for 99.9% of the public sphere… but it’s 100% necessary. Why? Because:

Pure evil exists.

And if pure evil exists, it’s worth killing.

There’s a few reflections here that I’ve been marinating on since finishing Lone Survivor: