And going into this mission, we knew from months of combat that our enemy didn't play fair. Their primary tactic was to emplace pressure plate IED's (or improvised explosive devices) in heavily trafficked areas, hoping that an American soldier would step on it and be killed or lose a limb.

And they buried a lot of IEDs. In fact, our very month in Afghanistan - we uncovered over 150 pressure plate IED's, all buried with the intent to maim or kill my friends.

What this meant for our unit, was that we had to adjust our tactics - walking in a straight line - one in front of the other - ensuring that no one stepped out of line, for fear that our next step might be our last.

My job was a team leader - which meant that I was in charge of leading our patrols. Right out front - just me and my rifleman who carried our minesweeper. 20 meters ahead of everyone, making sure that the way forward was clear. Sweeping back and forth, watching up ahead and to our flanks for enemy combatants, and the whole time listening to the pings of the minesweeper.

Every step was a nightmare.We knew that every step could be our last, and that instead of our families and beautiful wives happily welcoming us home after months away, they might instead welcome home a draped casket. But my job was to lead.

I remember our first patrol telling Manny - my minesweeper - "I'm right here with you bro. If you blow up, I blow up." And that was our reality. For what seemed like eternity.

You would think that when your life is under constant threat, and every single step you take could be your last, that the feeling of alertness never goes away. 

But over time - it fades. Everything just goes numb.

You start to normalize the threat of death.

And as morbid as it may seem - you start to welcome it.

At the time of this photograph - our Platoon Leader had just stepped on an IED and lost his leg. I vividly remember thinking "I'm never going to make it home, so I'd rather just get it over with."

That thought right there will haunt me for the rest of my life. It's something that I never thought would be possible. The absolute loss of hope and purpose.

I entered Afghanistan with a clear purpose. Fight for our country, our values, our safety, my family, and my brothers. When I left Afghanistan, that purpose had faded into nothingness.

But when my first daughter was born... 

I regained that feeling of hope again. I instantly regained that lost sense of purpose.

Life was not just about me anymore. My life was now about supporting this young, beautiful girl. About raising her, teaching her, and ultimately preparing her to go forth into the world without me.

At 1:41 in the morning, four years after the worst day of my life… my entire life changed... in an instant. 

But as I started to get used to fatherhood - I noticed something… 

Even though I wasn’t on the battlefield any longer, I still had land mines all around me. 

Land mines that if I stepped on, may not immediately injure or kill me, but the effects on my family would last generations. 

I had land mines all around me... maybe some of these sound familiar?

Land mines like: 

❌ Laziness

❌ Depression 

❌ Passivity 

❌ Selfishness

❌ Porn

❌ Lack of Leadership 

❌ Not being the example for my kids 

❌ Not loving and supporting my wife the way she needs 

These land mines were even more dangerous than the ones that I had to encounter in Afghanistan. 

Because these land mines, if stepped on, affected WAY more than just me. 

They affected my wife. 

They affected my kids. 

For GENERATIONS. 

At that moment I made a choice.

Step up and start becoming the husband, father, and man I am called to be?

Or keep living the way that I am... knowing that my family deserves more...

Knowing they deserve the best version of me, but refusing to do the work to become that man...

For the men that are ready to step into that choice. 

Ready to step into their role as the husband, father, and man they are called to be. 

Ready to build their intentional legacy.