It’s no secret that every writer here on Victory Girls is unabashedly and proudly pro-military.  All of us support, love and honor our Veterans in various ways whether it be through volunteer work in their behalf or through our writings here on Victory Girls.    One of the happy reasons I write here is to pay homage and give thanks to our Veteran service members, both active and retired.

All of the Victory Girls have deep and personal connections to Veterans in all branches of service, and I know that at least one of us is a Veteran herself.  We have stories we’ve shared here or will share about the grandparents, the husbands and wives, the fathers and mothers, the brothers and sisters, nieces, nephews, and best friends who have served our country.   Our stories about honor, commitment, bravery, sacrifice, loneliness, patience, heartache, and patriotism collectively tell our readers just how damn much we appreciate and love our Veterans.

I have a story to share today.  It’s not unique or particularly amazing.  Every wife and every military mother will know exactly what I am talking about.  Every military husband and father will nod his head in agreement.  Every military sister or brother will feel the tears gather and the heart swell.  My story is about my son, but he is every Veteran, every son or daughter of every parent that stood and watched a deployment plane leave.  And every son or daughter that jumped off a bus, safe and 72 hours away from battle.

My son is Staff Sergeant Mac Wilkinson, USMC.

Mac was born in Taiwan and came home to us in 1984 when he was 2 months old.  There was no conscious decision to adopt a Chinese infant from overseas.  We just wanted a baby.  The agency we worked with had fast connections with an overcrowded orphanage in Taipei.  Once I stood in the post office and opened an envelope from the orphanage, seeing a picture of Mac, I was a goner.  You know that rare moment when everything clicks together with no questions or doubts and your heart and head are in agreement on what exactly to do?  That was one of them.

Mac was an extremely….active (cough) kid.  He was the one who refused to crawl but walked very early, ran immediately, and did flips off the roof onto a trampoline in a Ninja Turtle costume.  He was the kid who would build guns out of foil, wire hangers and toilet paper rolls, hang his sister’s Barbie doll by a noose in her closet, and run the go-cart through a fence at 30 mph.  He always had a dog (or two) in his bed and worms in his pocket.   Affectionate and surly, rough and tender….that’s Mac.  And he’s gonna kill me for this.

I know there were times growing up when he felt different amongst his fellow hooligan teenaged friends because he was Chinese.  Even though he was 110% American (he hated Chinese food and would date ONLY blondes!), he felt the usual teenage angst that plagues young men who aren’t sure of their place in the world.

We always knew that of all our kids, he would be the one mostly likely to join the military.  It was no surprise at all.   So, when he made his decision to enlist in the Marines in 2003, we completely and proudly supported him, along with his brother, sisters, and extended family.   I personally knew that this was the perfect job for my loyal, stubborn, sensitive (yes, he’s gonna kill me), dogmatic, and feisty gearhead son.

I just didn’t know how dramatic the transformation would be.  From skinny, sullen, and quiet teenager to confident, skilled, capable, determined hulk of Marine badassness.

At boot camp graduation, as he showed us around base, I had another one of those rare moments, similar to my post office moment.  The Marines would finish my job as a parent.  I was done raising him and now he had made the choice to be a man, right there, right then.  He had found his niche and his place in the world – I had to step back.  This was hard, and this letting go is what every loved one of a Veteran has felt, sometimes over and over and over again.

Throughout the past ten years, Mac has served in Okinawa, on two tours in Iraq, in South Carolina, in Yuma, on recruiting duty in Utah, and now he is stationed at Camp Pendleton.  He’s never home long enough for me, but when his leave is up and he’s ready to board yet another plane, or drive back to base, I’m always so grateful for the kind of man he’s become and it’s a bittersweet ease for me to say goodbye.  Because I know he’s going to his own “home”.

Mac is a husband and a Daddy now, with a wonderful (blonde, of course) wife and two precious kids.  I remember the loneliness he felt on his various deployments and how my heart ached for him.  I always prayed for Mac to be safe, but mostly I prayed that he would find his way to a family of his own.  He is a devoted and loving husband and father and that’s all this particular Mom wanted for him.

Veterans know more about the value of life…and the sacrifice of injury and death in war….than anybody else, in my opinion.  Oh, they are trained and drilled and shaped into military ideals, but underneath the protocol and discipline are people that are remarkable anyway.  They value freedom and don’t need a bumper sticker to tell them it isn’t “free”.  They sacrifice themselves to be the defenders and protectors of our country – as well as many other countries they don’t understand and don’t want to be in…but they do it anyway.  They are sometimes ridiculed and dismissed by a smug and politically ridiculous cadre of shameless ninnies but, while I am sure that stings our Veterans, they know the majority of this country is deeply appreciative of their service.

I am so proud of Mac and every Veteran that served and still serves.  For all the ruinous policy that threatens our Republic these days, I am grateful there are men and women who understand—deeply and in a very real and personal way—America is the land of the free, because of the brave.

And Mac….you may be a badass Marine, but what you really are is a wonderful man, husband and father.  None of which could have been possible without your journey through some very tough times.

Your Mom thanks you for your service.