A Dream Deferred

Well, loyal readers (i.e. Mom and Dad), the past six months since I’ve updated have been crazy. I started flight training in February. I studied like crazy, learned a lot of random garbage, swam a lot (I mean, a lot), and learned that I would be off to Moody Air Force Base in Valdosta, Georgia to start flying. (I’ve included a map to help you find where I am.)

Map not to scale

I began studying at Moody, learning a lot of the same stuff I learned in Pensacola, weather, aerodynamics, systems, etc. Luckily, there is no swimming in the Air Force. The Air Force is much different than my beloved Navy, and I could write whole volumes on the differences, but I determined to learn to fly if it killed me.

I started flying the T-6A Texan II, a brand new training aircraft used by both the Navy and the Air Force. It costs over 4 million bucks, has a computerized cockpit, a state-of-the-art ejection seat, and a snazzy patriotic paint scheme. The engine produces 1100 shaft horsepower, which is a lot of get-up-n-go, as I soon learned.

Harder than it looks...

It turns out the human body isn’t designed to fly. The tea cups at Disney World should have clued me in; I get airsick. It sucks getting sick 6,000 feet above the earth in a little training plane with an instructor in the backseat laughing at you. I had to go see the doctor and then get spun around in this chair that looks like what Satan would include in his version of Disney World. I got over the airsickness, finally, but couldn’t get back on track with flying.

I knew the stuff in my mind, no problem (the hydraulic system is pressurized to 3000 psi +/- 120 psi), and I knew what to do in the plane, at least in my brain (slow on final: add power), but I couldn't develop the "monkey skills" that is, the quick reactions to correct little problems before they became big ones.

I started failing (“hooking” in AF slang) rides, and soon I went through several evaluation flights. I improved, slowly, but I felt I was improving. It wasn’t enough, though, and on a flight with the number two guy in the squadron (“DO” in AF terms, “XO” for the squids), I failed the ride. At this point I was removed from flight training, pending an evaluation.

I got letters of recommendation from my peers, a good word from my commander, and lots of prayer and support from my family and friends. I knew that I would talk to a couple of colonels, show them that I deserved to be a pilot, convince them that I could make it, and be back in the airplane by the end of the week.

I washed and ironed my whites, got a sharp haircut, polished my shoes, squared my shoulders and prepared to convince the second in command of training here that I had what it takes to be a good pilot.

In the toughest interview of my life, I pleaded my case and the Colonel told me he needed a few hours to think it over. I came back a few hours later, hoping for the best. He delivered the toughest news I’ve ever received as I sat at attention in my whites, determined to take it like a man and an officer.

He was recommending to his boss that I be removed from pilot training. He thought that I was a great officer, but that I did not show the potential to complete the training. He would, he promised, recommend to the Navy that I be retained and assigned to a new job in the fleet. And, he mentioned, I still had to talk to his boss, and he had the final decision. I would talk to him the next day.

The following afternoon, I met with the head of training at Moody. The results weren’t surprising. The CO followed his second’s advice and decided that I was done.

And just like that, my boyhood dream ended, in a colonel’s office on a beautiful summer day in south Georgia.

The Blue Angels had roared overhead every year and every year I tried to skip school to see them. My brothers and I were kids, wearing my dad’s old motorcycle helmets and rolling down the driveway lying facedown on skateboards. From 6 to 18 years old, books on airplanes had stocked my shelves, increasing in size and complexity as my dream grew in intensity. I marched and sweated and sometimes suffered through four years at the Naval Academy all the while holding the image of a Navy Pilot’s gold wings as my goal. And over the course of three weeks, it was over.

It’s been a week now, and my time is occupied by writing letters to people I know in important places asking for a good word on my behalf. The chances that they will just kick me out of the Navy are significant, which frightens me to no end. I may soon find the greater dream of being in the Navy ending within the next few months, and it seems too hard to contemplate.

I can’t be upset, though. I refuse. God has brought me this far for a reason, and He has plans for me that are never wrong.

That is very hard to believe right now, but I know it’s true. God took me to the Naval Academy, to Pensacola, and now here to Moody for a reason. I’ve had good grades, great friends, good health, laser surgery to correct my vision, and an awesome family, and God does not bless people like that and then abandon them when things have gone wrong.

If you’ve never had a dream, a hope or a goal fail, I hope you never feel like I did in that Colonel’s office hearing him eulogize a career that had just begun. But know that in this difficult time, only God knows what He has planned for me, and that’s okay.

God has never led me astray. He has never lied to me. He has never left me alone. He will not do those things now.

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” Those words, from 2 Corinthians chapter 4, verses 8 and 9, are powerful and true, and these things and feelings happen to show us how much we need God and how God truly is.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

St. James writes that in chapter 1, verses 2 through 4 of his letter. In seeing my hopes fall apart, I am learning that my faith is being tried. I will not curse God, blame Him, forget Him, ignore Him or cheat Him from what he deserves. God has a plan for me that is good and joyful. I don’t see it now, but He has never left me, He is love, and He will not leave in my hour of need.

I write this because this is my life, and this is where I am. I want you to know of God’s all surpassing goodness. His providence and love are perfect, as are His plans and designs. Know that whatever happens, if the Navy keeps me or sends me packing, God is worthy of praise and thanks for His never ending love for me. It is not about what I get from Him, or which dreams come true and which do not, it is about His care for me and all who love him in every situation.

So don’t get mad or write your Congressman (unless you think that might help) or curse God or question his goodness. Thank Him for allowing me to become an officer in the Navy, to wear the uniform of the country I love, to fly in the skies He created, and to meet and love my friends around the world who I’ve come to know because of where God has taken me.

Of course, if you happen to be a high-ranking military officer or know an influential Congressman who feels like writing me a recommendation, I won’t refuse.

God bless,
~Graham