Table Of ContentMap of Afghanistan
Dedication
To my parents, Jim and Robin, and my brothers, Price and Peyton.
Thank you will never be enough for the journey you have traveled and
endured with me, but just know that your love helped comfort me, heal
me, and give me life (again). I am thankful for you every day. I love you.
—KC
To Jeanette, Will, and Maddie: You make every day WORTH it! I love you
all.
—DY
Contents
Cover
Map of Afghanistan
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction: You Are Worth It
Chapter 1: Afghanistan
Chapter 2: It Starts at Home
Chapter 3: Hard Work Pays Off
Chapter 4: Keep Your Promises—to Others and to Yourself
Chapter 5: Lead with Action
Chapter 6: Someone Else’s Shoes
Chapter 7: The Grenade
Chapter 8: Call Your Mom
Chapter 9: Find the Joy
Chapter 10: It Starts at Home (Again)
Chapter 11: The Past Truly Is the Past
Chapter 12: Jump
Chapter 13: Don’t Hide Your Scars
Chapter 14: “Stay Motivated”
Chapter 15: Know Your Worth
Chapter 16: You’re Going to Fail . . . and That’s Okay
Chapter 17: You Are More Than Your Ribbon Rack or Résumé
Chapter 18: Say Thank You
Parting Thoughts
Acknowledgments
Photo Section
About the Authors
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
You Are Worth It
I
hopped in the black sedan and closed the door. Yet another ride to the
airport. This time I was headed to London.
The moment I hit the seat I began scanning through various emails of
tickets, reservations, and confirmations to make sure every step of my trip
over the next seven days would be as smooth as possible. But with each
tap of the screen came a comment from the driver; he clearly wanted to
talk. I put my phone down to chat with Bobby. He had come to America at
a young age, with his parents, from Pakistan. He proceeded to tell me that
he became an Uber driver after getting burned out as a banker who
specialized in mortgages, because it was stressful for him to deal with
people’s homes and their livelihoods on a daily basis. As his story
unfolded, we connected. I could relate to feeling burned out, if for
different reasons. I appreciated his openness and honesty, and as the
conversation continued I decided to share my journey and struggle with
him. He listened intently and when I was finished, he said the same five
words I have heard countless times.
“Thank you for your service.”
The phrase has prompted some discussion within the veteran
community because it is so predictable, almost reflexive. It’s become filler
language for when people don’t know what else to say to you, but they
want to say something. I know some vets are bothered by it because it can
feel hollow, as if the person is just saying it out of obligation or habit, or
the vets feel that they are being valued solely for their military service and
not for anything else.
Personally, I don’t mind the phrase. That person didn’t have to take
time out of their day to say anything to me, but they did, and that means
something. I usually just say, “Thank you very much. I really appreciate
that.”
But that day, on the way to the airport, I responded as I never had
before. As Bobby said, “Thank you for your service,” I replied, “You’re
worth it.”
He paused as he looked at me intently in the rearview mirror. To be
honest, I paused, too. Why did I just say that? I had heard the phrase
before, but never said it to anyone. How would it come across to someone
else? I didn’t know how Bobby would take it, but in that moment, I wanted
him to know that his family, his freedom, his rights, just the simple fact
that he was a human being, meant that he was worth sacrificing for . . . and
that’s what I have come to realize serving in the military means to me.
The last few minutes of our ride were silent but as we approached the
airport, he said to me, “My parents are retired and they have had a
peaceful and happy life. I received a great education and I will never
experience the struggles my parents faced. That is because of you and our
military, for which I will always be thankful. I will pray that God will
bless your journey, my brother.”
As Bobby from Pakistan pulled away, I took a moment to reflect on the
encounter, the twist of fate, that had suddenly pulled all the fragmented
pieces into focus for me. I’d said, “You’re worth it.” And I’d meant it.
As time has passed, and the more I’ve said it, the more I realize how
deeply true the words are: You are worth it. You are. You are worth
protecting, you are worth fighting for, you are worth time in a hospital bed
and deep scars on my body because all Americans—and the people of
Afghanistan, and so many people around the world who go to bed at night
wishing to one day taste freedom and peace—have inherent worth as
human beings. If we don’t spend our time on this earth looking out for one
another, what are we really doing with our lives?
I want to be straight with you: My goal isn’t just to make people think
about the “long run,” but to look even beyond that. How are what they are
doing today and the impact they are making on their world right now
going to persist? Some of the greatest deeds, work, recognition, and
impact do not come to fruition until long after their human creators are
gone. It’s the whole idea of “planting trees whose shade you will never
enjoy.” Or, as one character says in Cloud Atlas, “Our lives are not our
own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and
every kindness, we birth our future.”
On a more personal level, you are worth whatever you want to invest in
yourself. You are worth pushing through whatever is holding you back,
whatever challenges you are facing, whatever seemingly insurmountable
odds are staring back at you. You are worth pursuing the happiness you
search for when you look in the mirror.
I am worth it, too, and that is why I fought to rebuild my life into
something even greater than it was before a grenade changed everything
for me.
It might seem natural to divide my life into two parts, before the
explosion and after, but that would give the bad guy who wanted to kill me
too much power over my story. I am about so much more than that one
moment. The explosion is simply one event in a lifetime of events, all of
which have shaped me, changed me, made me grow, and made me who I
am. And the life I am living now—even as I am continuing to build it—is
one I love.
I am worth it. And so are you.
