It’s two o’clock in the morning, Father. A long, hard day again.
I have run all of my charts and tended to the men.
I saw something else today I never saw before;
A wounded woman soldier was brought onto my floor.
I wonder if she has a child back there in the States
And how she handles being gone so long from her love mate.
But Lord, I know the answer. She’s no different than me.
We share the dedication. We’re just dressed differently.
I have children and a lover I have left behind.
My strength comes from the memories that I carry in my mind.
I imagine socks don’t match and toys are on the floor,
But there are, Lord, so many here that need my service more.
My husband is an able man, he’ll keep the home front clear
‘Til I rush back into his arms when I am finished here.
So ‘til my time is over, Lord, and I have been relieved,
I’ll walk these halls and listen for the sounds of soldiers needs.
I have a heavy, heavy heart, but I must force a smile
Encouraging the worst of these to make “just one more mile”.
Not everyone will make it, though, in spite of all I try.
Some of these soldiers hurt so bad I know they’re going to die.
I put them in your hands, Dear Lord, and try to meet their needs.
Then find a dark, secluded spot to drop down to my knees.
I cannot let them see me cry, these brave selfless heroes.
But I grow so attached to them, can’t bear to see them go.
There are so few of us to serve the wounded in this place,
I know my strength comes from you, Lord, from your undying Grace.
So let my husband and my kids know they are in my heart
And pray that they are proud of me because I do my part.
Soon I’ll come back home to be his wife and their mommy
But now I’m off to run my charts, a long day ahead for me.
David E. Dunham, April 2005