Of Glory and a Plan Beyond The Reach of Mortal Ken

  (Author's note: This blog may best be enjoyed while sipping a hot beverage such as cocoa or coffee, neither of which were available to the author during the writing of this entry. The author hopes you feel a slight twang of guilt as you enjoy your wintry drink.)

  I want to start by saying that I’m not writing this to make anyone jealous, or try to flaunt my good fortunes in front of anyone…but I get to celebrate Christmas a full 11 hours before any of you back home. Does it mean Santa loves me a little more? Or that I am slightly higher on that Nice list than any of you naughty folks? Or perhaps, that I have more Christmas spirit in one finger than the entire eastern sea board of America combined? The answer to these questions is…maybe. Or perhaps, it’s just that I am on the other side of the world, the side that makes less sense and has 97% less Christmas cheer than your side. It’s Christmas Eve here already, and instead of enjoying Christmasy foods and time with my family, I’m sitting at the Iraqi police compound in Abu Graib, Iraq, as part of the Quick Reaction Force that my platoon covers every few days. It’s 24 hours of non stop fun and festivities…if you like sitting around a musty tent, trying to stay out the heat of the day, and laying on your cot sleeping. I planned ahead though, and have been enjoying my own holiday festivities…I brought a few Christmas movies on my laptop, some candy from the stockings that my mom and my beautiful girlfriends Sammi’s mother sent me, and tried to spread good cheer all day. This mostly resulted in me being made fun of…but I still have my candy and movies. Being a 24 hour shift, I’ve put a hurting on the movie list too…none of the traditional classics, but a few solid choices anyways. “Die Hard” is a fantastic Christmas movie, I don’t care what anyone says. “Now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho.” Christmas cheer, indeed! There is something very weird about spending this time of year over here, so far from the buzz of shoppers and decorations, the music piped through every set of speakers no matter where you go, the trees, the lights, and even just having a wintry chill in the air. When it gets below 60 degrees here guys grab extra layers. I’ve tried to enjoy some of the finer things myself…I received some awesome decorations in the mail, and some great Christmas music from my little sis…more than that though, it has definitely given me a chance to truly appreciate the reason behind all of the celebrating and fun that I usually enjoy this time of year. The time with family and people that we love, celebrating the birth of Christ and the eternal life He has blessed us with through His life here on earth.

  The season hasn’t been all cheer and silliness, of course. Things have been exciting in our area of operations, and from everything we are told (which is even less than you might think) we are not exactly on anyone’s christmas card list. The elections here in Iraq were pushed back from January to March to try and build up some more security before they happen. They have kept my platoon, the mighty 3^rd, extremely busy. We are one of the smaller platoons now, but have the best record of any unit in the battalion, both because we perform well and do our jobs with style and violence, and because we are the only platoon that hasn’t screwed up yet. This is good for your favorite private Snyder, because it mostly means I am working with the best guys possible right now…but it also means we get the exciting assignments. While other platoons are helping train Iraqi police on basic stuff, we’re cordoning and searching entire villages and rolling up on some very bad dudes. It makes the days fly by though…it’s already been nearly 4 months since I left now, and only a few short months left until I get to come home for a couple of weeks! I already have so many things planned out, whole lists of places to go and real foods to eat…and some other big events. It’s going to be an amazing break from the craziness here, and I cannot even tell you how excited I am to get back to something like normal life, sleep in a real bed, take a real shower…wear normal shoes again. Yeah. Go ahead and laugh. Tell me you don’t take that for granted. I love my boots to death, but I’m pretty sure there will be tears the first time I put my Vans back on these feet…I’m pretty sure my body won’t know what to do with real food either, or a full nights sleep…I’m getting froggy just thinking about it.

  This month has been pretty tough for me to be away from home, too. As I’m sure most of you know, one of my best friends in the world crossed the Jordan into paradise this month. Anthony Vietti was an incredible man and a better friend, and even though I am fully and painfully aware that my presence wouldn’t have made a difference, every part of my being wanted to be home with everyone. Trying to deal with life here, my job and other guys in my squad requiring my full attention, but having my heart and mind on the other side of the world…My father was incredibly gracious and agreed to read a few words from me at his memorial, and that meant so much to me. I know and fully trust that God has an incredible plan for everything that has happened, and I have already seen little bits and pieces of His glory being shown. A lot of my tracking and updates on everything that happened came from the media, websites and news videos following the progress of the search, and bits and pieces of info on Anthony and the other two climbers. By the second day of the search, almost every single story online spoke about their faith in Christ, and some of the missions and camps they had worked at. Video interviews with different people involved in the search, video of Aunt Terri speaking about their lives and faith…so many testimonies of His glory and grace for the world to see. For my part, I learned what it truly means to pray honestly that His will would be done, and praise Him even in the midst of pain and loss. The hymn, ‘It Is Well With My Soul” became like a mantra to me, a constant prayer as I tried to focus on my job and everything else going on immediately around me. God has been so incredibly faithful to me these past few months, helping me to find joy and strength in Him no matter what, and has given me opportunities to share my faith and attitude with other guys in my platoon. That is one of the things I will always remember Anthony by, his unapologetic and shameless professions of faith, in his words and how he lived. My squadmates all heard about the ordeal on the mountain, and what I was going through…and more than one of them have come to me and asked about how I can still be smiling, why I’m not a complete wreck, and one even asked how I can still believe in a God who would let this happen. In every case, I have been able to joyfully express my love and faith, and trust that He has also brought me to this place, with these guys, for a reason. Anthony and the life he lived continue to inspire me everyday, and though I miss him more than I can even describe, I am so joyful knowing that he is in the presence of the Almighty, whom he served daily and faithfully…and that I will see him there someday.

  I want to thank you all for your notes, your prayers, your stories…My parents have been so amazingly supportive, always writing to make sure I’m alive and doing well, and my little brother Dave has been the funniest kid ever…he will start chatting with me on facebook when he happens to check his, and I never know exactly where the conversations will go…but I think he might be funnier than the rest of us Snyders combined. If he’s taller than me when I get home too…well, there can be only one. Gracie has been sweet too, writing to me and burning the greatest christmas music on the face of the planet for me…I have been able to write to many of you already, and more of you are on the list…I’m sorry it has taken me so long. My beautiful girlfriend Samantha has been so incredible too…I can never thank her enough for her constant encouragement and support. She is one of the funniest girls alive too…holy cow.

  One of my biggest joys has been from a surprising place here. A majority of the Iraqi people want nothing to do with us, and after getting to know some of the guys I work with, I definitely don’t blame them. Every so often though, once in a dirty blue moon, I come across a truly awesome Iraqi. One of the Iraqi Army guys we work with is pretty hilarious…most of the guys in my platoon will just ignore or be flat out rude to them, but I always try to smile and give them a little “Salam a lakum” (I have no idea how that’s actually spelled…it’s the greeting. Don’t worry your head about it) One of the guys though, who speaks about 3 words in English, is a great pantomimer, and since I’m not too shabby and actually respond to him, he always seeks me out when we’re on a mission with them. We actually have some hilarious conversations, which is saying a lot when you can’t use words. We were clearing a farm area and searching for anything suspicious, and he was pointing at different farm animals and imitating the noises they make. It was like that children’s toy with the wheel and cord you pull to hear, ‘The cow says…moooo’ He would make a noise, and wait for me to do my impression…then he explained where to find the good meat, which animals were probably pregnant, and how best to slaughter a sheep with the different pieces of gear I had on. If you don’t know how to put a sheep down with only your carabiner and a watch, come find me someday and I will spread the knowledge. Another time we were patrolling through a pretty busy village, which held the school for the area. Lots of little kids came running around, and most of them gave a us a pretty wide berth. I don’t really blame them…I like to think that if I was a third grader and a bunch of foreign dudes with guns came sauntering down my street, I would be smart enough to clear out. One little dude, though, had other plans. He was about as tall as my hip, just a tiny little guy…but he came strutting up like it was his street, and I was in his way. About 10 feet from me, he threw his hand up and locked it above his head, the in the internationally understood gesture for, “HIGH 5 MY HAND FOOL!” I couldn’t say no to that, and goodness knows I’m no fool, so I took my hand off of my gun, held it low enough for Tiny Tim to hit, and gave him what was probably the single greatest slapping of hands he will ever see. He started laughing, and danced around the street in sheer glee…everything in my wanted to shed my armor and dance with him for some reason. Everything here is so serious, so stressful…you know, because of the whole being at war thing. He instantly reminded me of home, being carefree and just having fun…he reminded me of my campers at Trout Creek, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. He followed me down the street, and about 300 meters later we stopped and took up positions to provide security for our LT as he spoke to some high up mucky muck. My new sidekick followed me to my corner, and over the course of the next 10 minutes I taught him how to bump fists, and call it “Daps” like they do on the street. Everytime he high fived me, I howled in pain and acted like my hand was broken…it was just like the games I played with my little cousins the Bradleys, and I started missing home like crazy. It the midst of our game, my platoon sergeant walked up to find out why this little Iraqi kid was still around…I thought for sure I was busted, and about to get in serious trouble. Instead, he just laughed, and offered the little guy his own fist to get daps. I was so happy the entire rest of the day, getting just that small taste of getting to be myself again, not having to deal with war for just a few minutes.

  That’s all for now…I hope that you are having a wonderful Christmas as your read this, and I want you to go hug your family for me…enjoy them a little extra this year. I have been so blessed by each of you and I know that you have been blessed by each other, and the families that you are spending this time with. Make sure that they know that…I am praying constantly for you all, and I can’t wait to get my little action home and tell you stories myself…so much gets lost in the written word, without the voices or motions that so many of these stories need to be told with any justice…Merry Christmas!

Nate