I listened to the news this weekend, mistake number one. I found myself staring at the screen, listening to the absurdities spewed as a collective whole about law enforcement. Nothing new.
It used to enrage me, knowing the truth about the officers I personally know. It is starting to roll off my brain as water does a soaked sponge. Too much hate, too much generalization, too little common sense. I find myself reverting back to what I know is true.
I know about the bad cops, and I know about the good ones who have no patience or tolerance for those who bring down the noble ones through association. I also know about those who follow the bandwagon of hate and honestly, their verbal punches start to seem comical at times. All the hate and keyboard jockey expertise is beginning to become intangible static to me.
I worry more about those with true intent; those on an organized mission to perpetrate violence against any and all. I worry that this has somehow become acceptable to certain members of society. I wonder if I’m crazy at times as I still look at my husband, knowing him like no one else knows him and feeling this immense sense of pride in being the wife of an officer.
I know I’m not crazy. It’s not the power that comes with the badge, or the attraction I still have seeing him in his uniform. It’s the love for who he is, regardless of the badge. That’s what they fail to see about so many who are just like my husband. They fail to see the mothers, fathers, wives, husbands. I think it’s just easier to hate when you eliminate all sense of humanity and claim you are just doing what has been done to you. I can’t claim that kind of hate, not as a collective whole. I can’t because I know the truth.
Those who judge it don’t understand it. They haven’t occupied your shoes, your heart, your mind, as it reels and absorbs and analyzes and debates the scenarios which spin out of control day in, day out. Those who haven’t lived it have no comprehension of the mentality it takes to make such absurdities, fears, and unfathomable thoughts nothing more than simplistic normalcies of daily life. It is a life which unless lived can only be misunderstood. It is a world of certain uncertainty.
It is a life of abnormal normalcy. It is a life of contradiction in pride. A pride which comes from the reality of what those abnormal normalcies entail. A knowledge in that the only thing which could surpass that everyday pride is pride eternal, which comes only with the accompanied devastation of the ultimate sacrifice.
“It” is a life in law enforcement. It is powerful; it is lived by those with character, fortitude, strength and honor. It is shredded by those who disrespect it, who live it in contempt, who abuse it, who take for granted its importance and value and worth. It is real. It carries with it pain, injustice, mortality and fate. It also carries justice, protection, service, dignity and survival. It is a life of contradiction and yet a life as straight forward as can be.
Wolves, sheep, sheepdogs; all roaming amongst each other. Some walk in the open air, some hiding in the shadows; some living in innocence, others hunting their prey in cold blood. And then there are those watching the flock, their eyes always amongst the shadows, aware, alert, alive with their senses as rest escapes them in their duty to anticipate the stalking, the preying upon innocence.
They are the strong ones; despite their weariness, their lack of peace, their lack of trust in those all around them, they stand. A fortress of protection, a pillar or strength amongst the weak and endangered; a unified strength, numbers few but presence mighty as they stand their ground and fight the fight others are too weak to battle. Strangers in need; a public unaware of the price of peace or the sacrifices willingly awaiting them should they find themselves in peril. A constant steady taken for granted.
They may call me crazy. Overly dramatic. Too invested. Obsessed. Those who do, have never needed a hero. Those who do not have seen one. Those of us who care not what they call us live with heroes. We love the heroes. The sheepdogs. The warriors. The servers of justice and peace. Those who offer us a glimpse into a past where chivalry came with respect and without the threat of death, are those who willingly offer themselves up to a world in which chivalry died long ago.
They may call me crazy…my crazy comes with a hero packing heat on a mission of protection, not harm. I say it’s crazy to never know a love like that. I’ll take crazy and the risk that comes with it, and I won’t be ashamed to speak my pride about it.
