Christina Hunter - Raising West Point: The Unmasking of a Hero

Chapter

Leading Up to R Day

O n the days leading up to R Day, which was the day we would drop Sabria off at West Point and she would begin in-processing, I found myself looking at who I was and trying to let God prepare me for what was to come. I knew Sabria was choosing the path of most resistance, as was the opposite of most people these days. I always told the kids that if they were ever in a situation that required them to make a choice between two roads, the harder one was most likely the best choice. Just go the harder route because the results will always be worth the efforts. The road to greatness is narrow, and not all will choose that route. Most athletes who are being recruited will choose the most popular school. The best-rated program for their particular sport of choice. They want to be a hero somewhere or want to at least wear a jersey that represents the idea of heroism. Many dont care intently on the latter part of their life when they are eighteen. Their priority is to get into a top-ranked school. The more popular view is to get more bang for their buck. Work hard now, and rest easy forever more. Sabria had a different view. She gave so much of herself and lived so passionately up to this point that as she looked at her options (she had a box full of college offers), she just couldnt get away from the desire that burned inside her to want more. It seems like such a clich nowadays.

Kids are pushing themselves hard into the doors of a paid education. Weve all known that kid who tells the whole world what school theyve been recruited to. Since seventh grade, theyd been sought out by a particular impressive college. Meanwhile, no one talks about how they have an uncle or some family member in the sports arena who has paved the way for them the whole time. Theyre not a tremendous athlete, especially at seventh grade. They may have a lot of potential at that age. In fact, Sabria was told in seventh grade that she had the potential to play Division 1 basketball if she worked hard and continued to improve. No one should ever just assume they have a full ride to college at a young age. This way of thinking opens the door to so much negativity including self-entitlement, unmerited boldness, lack of commitment, and lack of desire to persevere. They will not reach their full potential but are used to being treated as superior athletes. So when they are passed by a runner in a conditioning class or they make a mistake on the field or court, they cant own the fail. They will quickly make some cheap excuse for the display of weakness when it could be just a simple mistake anyone could have made or just that they simply couldnt keep up with the well-conditioned athlete next to them who will never get that chance to play in college but who just showed them up in the gym because they dare to dream and have passion with the belief that anything is possible. These self-entitled kids may, in fact, go on and play well in their sport in college, but good character never develops. Its a true shame. Ive worked very closely with athletes of this nature, and it isnt a pretty sight. Sabria had little patience or respect for these athletes because they only cared about the superficial. They wanted the look of a good athlete on the outside, but everything inside was fake, always looking for the opportunity to boast or brag of their big plans for the future. She hadnt initially even looked at West Point, but when the topic came up, her curiosity drove her to investigate. A college that wants you to strive to live for something bigger than yourself? That was the phrase Sabria had heard from me many times going into a game. Remember to play for something bigger than yourself. The phrase really hit home when there was a dad at one of the school events in our township who told Sabria something that she never forgot. He said that his little daughter, who was in grade school at the time, ran around the living room at home with her little basketball pretending not to be Michael Jordan or Lebron James but to be Sabria Hunter. Sabria was intrigued, and this fueled the fire within her to strive to extend the ceiling of her potential. To be even better than she could imagine but not for her own sake, for the sake of the little ones who watched her so they could know that their own potential was yet to be known but the possibilities were endless.

If we all tried to max out our potential only to push our own ceiling of limits higher and higher, what kind of world would we live in? We would break the chains of self-doubt for ourselves and encourage our kids to do the same. Everyone would say to Sabria that with a degree from West Point, she could go anywhere and she would be set for life. Sabria appreciated the compliment, but it was not seen that way to her. She would put everything aside for the completion of this program. She would lose many freedoms she once had and would be willing to die for her country if that was necessary. She would commit to give 100 percent of herself, leave her close-knit family, and be forced to love her siblings from four hundred miles away. She knew this program would have the potential to change her but in an amazing way. The price she was paying to learn to a high degree the way of living a life of service and a commitment to duty, honor, and country was too costly to just have the reputation of being a West Point grad. She was humble enough to understand that it would be eleven years by the time this process of getting set for life was completed. By then, many things would have changed at home. These would be years not just spent studying, doing roll call, surviving SAMI, working and thinking well under extreme conditions, sleeping with her rifle at her side, learning to put the anxieties of soldier life aside to appreciate the simple game of basketball, and, of course, playing at the Division 1 level. This would all be at the cost of losing her spot at her five younger siblings birthday parties, basketball games, family outings at the lake, and all the little joys of living as the oldest of six kids, and leaving a community where shed grown to love and had loved her. I knew Sabria understood the true struggle she was going to experience, but in the months leading up to her leaving, we were all very connected to what we had as a close-knit family, and we truly engaged in the opportunities to spend quality time together.

One particular evening, I went rummaging through Sabrias room looking for a cube to charge my phone and was distracted by the beautiful presence of my sleeping kid. She was wrapped in my special decorative blanket, which was an illegal act in our house, but that night, I didnt care. I did not ignore the tremendous urge to put everything aside and seize the opportunity to embrace the moment. I gently crawled into Sabrias bed and cuddled my friend. I wrapped my arm around her being careful not to wake her. I lay there feeling her back push up against my chest and move rhythmically in and out as she slept. I was overwhelmed with the gratefulness I was feeling for that moment in timethankful that I could see my sweetie, feel her skin, and hear her breath next to me. My eyes filled with tears as I realized how precious that moment was. In a few short months, Id say goodbye to her and see her off to West Point, where shed stay about four hundred miles away from me. Suddenly, I heard the wind blowing outside and the rickety windows shaking against the walls in our old house, reminding me of how Id once hoped Id be able to replace those old windows with new ones and how it no longer mattered to me. Who cares about those old lousy windows when my baby is leaving? I thought. I began to lose control of my building emotions. I didnt want her to hear my sniffling or feel my body trembling with sadness. So I tried to contain myself, calming myself as my tears moistened the pillow beneath my head, thinking of how my family will be destroyed after Sabria left but understanding this destruction would lead to a new construction of our family that was better and stronger than the unit it was before. I didnt know how we would deal with this. I did know that our hearts would need to be healed because part of our hearts would go to New York with Sabria, never to be put back into our chest. The healing we would need after, that could only be done by God. The wound would heal, and a scar would take shape, reminding us of the piece that was once there but was now gone. Sabria leaving our home in such a big way would leave a mark. As that chapter in our books closed, we would have to tell our hearts to beat again and to a new rhythm. We would have to adapt. Sabria was my best friend and a second mother to her siblings. Her dreams were our dreams, and our dreams were hers. We as a family spent our days adjusting and bending to each other to face battles of everyday life as a team, a special unit, celebrating in each others victories and suffering together in times of trouble or defeat. I lay there hoping that she didnt forget about me. I could picture her in her uniform, at the academy adapting, thriving. But I hoped she would remember her tools back home. Those who had her back no matter what. Those who would hear her cries for help even when she made no noise and would know what she needed without her even asking. We would remain by her side, and the scars on our hearts would invest us further in the love and respect we had for our girl and would always remind us of the connection we have as a family and that God placed us together on this earth for a big reason. So wherever she was, whatever she was experiencing, we would remain by her side. I hoped she never forgot her roots and that the thought of us at home would not induce sadness but that with every heartbeat in her chest, she would feel her family there with her. That as she breathed in the fresh mountain air, the smell would remind her of home, of usthe ones she left behind but who also followed her in spirit and heart. Then we would never be far apart. I lay there next to her, embracing the freedom of being in her presence. A freedom I would soon no longer have. The freedom to smell her hair and wonder why I could use the same shampoo as her but my hair never smelled quite as good as hers. That moment was a gift, and I was so grateful for it. My grandma had told me when I was young to be careful to stop and smell the roses. This was a moment that I had the chance to stop what I was doing and smell the most beautiful flower. To inhale the aroma of Sabria. These are the moments of great opportunity. To see Gods gift of grace in life and to take a moment to come away from the busyness of lifes responsibilities and to find rest in the beauty and splendor of his creation.