It's almost here ...

As my separation from the military quickly approaches, the following points have occurred to me. They have rudely chosen to occur to me at exactly the same time, instead of waiting in line politely. I am trying not to panic.

I’ve never been a civilian and an adult at the same time. I’ve been in the Army since I graduated high school. Since most people in the Army think they are still in high school (except they all dress the same and get shot at more often – though only slightly), I’m not sure how adult civilians are supposed to behave. For instance, without the use of 6 million acronyms, how do people communicate? Do people ever do prowl the hallways in search of subordinates whose coats are unzipped?

I don’t, technically speaking, have a job lined up. When I say “technically” what I mean is that I don’t have a job lined up. But I must be qualified for something, right? I mean I’ve been a journalist for like five years … oh wait. No, I guess that means I’m not qualified for anything. Do you suppose Iraq is looking for a new minister of information?

I don’t technically have a house at this moment. For the definition of “technically” see above. The reason for this is mostly because of number two. After doing extensive research on the town I live in, I have discovered that A) A person must make at least $200,000 a year to pay rent on something like, say, a moss-covered shed. And B) most jobs, including neurosurgery and rocket science, pay roughly $6.50 per hour. Therefore the fact that anyone lives there is a mathematical impossibility. Does anyone know NASA’s phone number? Anyway, I could always move into my parents’ house but I’d have to push my little brother off his bed (the living room couch) or squeeze into my other brother’s bedroom (a tent in the garage) and I just don’t know how well that would work.

Actually, that’s about it. Now that I think about it, it’s not that bad.

In fact, the timing of my departure from military service is pretty spectacularly orchestrated (not by me). Because of a long, complicated chain of totally unexpected events, I will get home in time to see my sister and her two children, who are returning from Germany for a few months before moving away again.

If my discharge date was when it was supposed to be, at the end of October, I would miss her visit entirely. So it would appear that God is in control after all and I need not worry. After all, it is He who determines the times and places men should live …

So, to quote Ozzy Osbourne, (which is something you should never ever do by the way), “Mama, I’m comin’ hooooome…”