My scariest memory is from when my dad deployed when I was in third grade. I was eight and my sister was six. He was supposed to be gone for six months, but it turned into ten months. Because I was so young, I did not fully understand why my dad had to leave. I simply thought my dad was going to fly jets somewhere else for a while, and then he would come back home. It did not dawn on me that he was in harm’s way and could die. I remember one evening, my mom, sister, and I were Skyping, and a bomb was dropped near his base. We all heard it, and we got really scared. It was then that I began to realize how serious his “trip” was; I understood that he was in danger and that he might not actually come home. I could not sleep for days after that incident. My faith grew during the next few months as I prayed for him, for him to return home. I learned very early how to trust God and pray that He would bring my dad back to us.