On My Honor — Do You Believe in Destiny?

A true story about a soldier’s guidance from the afterlife

***This is not my story to tell, but it became a part of my life. Permission to share these events was given to me by those directly involved. Please be aware that tragic military subject matter is briefly discussed which may be triggering to some, especially those suffering from PTSD.

“Destiny itself is like a wonderful wide tapestry in which every thread is guided by an unspeakable tender hand, placed beside another thread and held and carried by a hundred others.” — Rainer Maria Rilke

When you look back through the years, experiences and those memories replay in a way that is mostly believable. . . an expected series of random moments interwoven to create the fabric of your unique life. But what if all of those random moments are not random at all? What if the flap of an eagle’s wings at that very second had already been written into the wind before it even occurred?

There are no coincidences.

I was very young when I started noticing correlations of moments. Events would line up and then give direct meaning to something that had just occurred but in a chilling way. I’d notice, ponder, and then let it go as “just a coincidence.” After a person experiences this over and over countless times throughout their life, it becomes impossible to ignore — and it feels like something more.

I know I’m not the only one who sees these “signs” of a guiding map carefully prepared that shows me I’m right where I should be. I’m not special. I believe they are there for everyone to see in their own lives. Once you notice one, suddenly a whole world of synchronization appears. It’s an undeniable path laced with arrows pointing, “this way.” You can choose to follow them or not. That’s how I ended up where I am now, living on the edge of one of the natural wonders of the world. I’m here because of the guiding hand of my brother-in-law; someone I never had the honor to meet.

A knock on the door would change the course of my life forever. I wasn’t even there, my future husband was. He turned the doorknob and then fell to his knees as the military personnel drove out of sight, leaving a gaping slash through his family’s ordinary life. His brother, their son, would not be coming home. He had been killed in action serving our country.

The last conversation my husband had with his brother had been a serious one. His brother told him that he felt this deployment would be different than the last one and that he didn’t think he’d make it home. He said that my husband would now be responsible for their family’s future. He listened sadly and respectfully, hoping such a tragic premonition couldn’t possibly come to be.

Two years later, I met a family immersed in grief. They each handled the pain differently, pushing through monotonous days of sadness. I became a part of this family and got to know my brother-in-law through their childhood memories. I learned about their days watching trains, swimming in creeks, and riding horses to school. We’ve always had a memorial space in our house for him. I see his picture every day; a young man who sacrificed his life in service for the greater good. He appears to grow younger and younger as I grow older.

“Does our purpose on Earth directly link to the people whom we end up meeting? Are our relationships and experiences actually the required dots that connect and then lead us to our ultimate destinies?” — Jennifer Elisabeth

My husband is a wildland firefighter. During the most painful years of his loss, the walls of fire and the walls of his grief were one and the same. In this line of work, your co-workers also become your brothers and sisters. “Blood, sweat, and tears,” is not a metaphor. The work can be brutal and the bonds made are like steel. They helped him navigate through these difficult days as much as they could. On another random earth-shattering day, he would also find himself mourning more brothers, 19 of them. (But that is another story.)

A part of my husband’s job requires us to move to different locations, usually remote ones, for advancement. Hesitantly, we took a spot that would take us away from family. After many years of living at this isolated government fire compound, we were faced with the decision to move again. Our children were born there with many wonderful memories, but we knew it was time to go.

It had always been our goal to return to our parents' location again and this would help a little with that. We went ahead sight unseen. It would be a big move and it was a real leap of faith.

The guiding path of names. . .

During this time period, another large event was co-occurring. Even though many years had now passed, my brother-in-law's ashes were to be enshrined at Arlington National Cemetary. My husband and his parents flew out for the special and sacred ceremony right before he was to start his new job. It was a turbulent and emotional time of uncertainty.

“A person’s destiny is something you look back at afterwards, not something to be known in advance.” — Haruki Murakami

While my husband was waiting for his return flight home, he started chatting with the boarding flight gatekeeper who inquired about his destination. My husband told him some details about his new job. The gatekeeper replied casually, “Oh yeah, I know your new boss, he’s a good guy so you don’t have to worry.” He knew his name and who he was. Now let me remind you, they were currently in Virginia and we lived on the other side of the country.

This took a little while to sink in for me. Coincidence? Sure. . . maybe. Out of all of the flights, all of the employees, and all of the times, my husband meets someone who has direct knowledge of a person and circumstance that we’ve been apprehensive about (which is thousands of miles away). AND it’s right after honoring his brother; someone who would only want the best for his little brother and to give him some comfort in these difficult times. The gatekeeper unknowingly delivered a message that things will be okay, that this decision was the right one and a necessary step. It was information that only someone with a view of the “bigger picture,” could have made happen.

Upon returning home, he met his new boss and we settled in. Fast forward another year and his boss randomly mentions that he came across a temporary 4-month detail job at the gateway of a national park. It’s only a couple of hours from where our parents live. We decided to take it which eventually turned into a permanent position inside the park. We were very grateful to his boss for letting my husband go in the first place. We were finally able to move back closer to our parents for good. We had come full circle.

“Belief will open the door, faith will help you see the light, but trust will give you lasting peace.” — Charles F. Glassman

Just a couple of days after settling into our new home here, it was Father’s Day. This is a pretty remote place, although millions of people visit every year. There is a market and not a lot of places for shopping, besides gift shops. I wanted to buy my husband something and so a gift shop would have to do. I perused through all of the typical touristy things like T-shirts, hats, mugs, and magnets. A rack of bracelets caught my eye. They were fairly rustic looking and printed with dozens of different names for souvenirs. I decided to find my husband’s name. I traced my finger down and around the alphabetical rack seeking it out. I found his and there were only 2 bracelets left in the slot.

Excited, I pulled out the bracelet, but it was not his name. In the slot where his name should have been was a bracelet with another name. Printed on this bracelet was. . .

his brother’s name.

I gasped. Wouldn’t you? I looked around the store. “Do you see this!?” But no one even looked. No one knew I was holding these miraculous letters in my hand and what it took for these sequences of events to come together bringing me to this moment. I wondered if his name was on the other bracelet that was left. It would be neat to give my husband the bracelet with his brother’s name on it and one with his.

“The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.” — Thomas Carlyle

I reached for the bracelet and turned it around, only it wasn’t his name again. It wasn’t a name at all. It was a word — one word that would tell me without a doubt that we are home.

My brother-in-law watches over us and the children he knew we’d have. He helped guide us to this safe place. There is no other explanation. He has given us a sense of peace, and by sharing my acknowledgment of his guiding hand, I hope he will have peace as well.

We honor you today and always.

My parents-in-law have volunteered countless hours (thousands) for an organization called Honor and Remember. It’s for bringing awareness and remembrance to fallen service members of the U.S. military and their families. They also played a major role in an epic 2018 trek called America’s Run For the Fallen where they read aloud nearly 20,000 fallen soldiers’ names since 2000.