Like the Wetzels, my family and I would be nothing without the ones that guided our healing, cheered us on, and helped us up when we fell (literally). Josh and Paige do a great job of emphasizing the importance of the community that would not let us quit. There is truly nothing like the feeling of being around people that understand what you’re going through. We grew as people, husbands, and fathers by watching each other try new things. As Josh and Paige share their growth in this book, you’ll see their community grow as well, and this community far exceeds the military and amputees. This is another point of agreement in our friendship: Human struggles should not be compared; they should be used to encourage others. This is not a story about a guy who thinks he fought harder than anyone else or a wife who knew exactly what to do. Instead, you’ll find a story of great humility and willingness to follow God, no matter how difficult the path seems.
If you get nothing else from this story, I hope you learn that every testimony starts with a test. We live in a world that tells us if something is hard, confusing, or just not what we thought it would be, we should just give up. The men and women that fight for this country live in a different culture. We expect leadership and victory to be hard; therefore, we embrace anything that can prepare us for it. That’s what you’ll find here—two people embracing the preparation that only a difficult time can provide. Because Josh and Paige adopted this mindset, their story will continue. This book isn’t just a recount of war stories; it is a guide to how we can turn our struggles into good. When we choose to turn struggle into good, our hardships can still serve the world, even years later. Josh and Paige don’t tell their story to glorify how tough they are but to help readers realize their own toughness. Their faith is practical, and so is their love for other people. Because of that, their story continues to teach, encourage, and inspire.
Josh and Paige are more than people that were with me during a hard time. They love my children, they pray for my family, and they have cheered me on every step of the way. I am proud to call them my friends, and I am excited for you, as the reader, to have your faith lifted by the story of two people who believed that there was purpose behind the worst day of their lives.
—SSG Travis Mills, US Army (Ret.)
82nd Airborne Division
Purple Heart
Bronze Star
PART ONE
THE BEGINNING AND THE END
CHAPTER ONETHE VOICE MAIL OR THE DOORBELL
The LORD knows all human plans; he knows that they are futile.
—Psalm 94:11
PAIGE
On May 31, 2012, I was in my Tacoma, Washington, apartment getting ready for work around 6:30 a.m. Suddenly, I got a phone call from a number I did not recognize. Immediately my heart sank. Since we had moved to a new place, I got calls from random numbers all the time, but not at 6:30 a.m. If it’s something important, they will leave a voice mail. [Voice mail chimes.] Sh*t.
Mrs. Wetzel this is Sgt. 1st Class with the Department of the Army. Please return my call. It’s regarding your husband.
I was sitting on the floor before the message was done playing. Sliding down the wall, I thought only two things:
Well, this is it.
At least there isn’t an officer ringing the doorbell.
I called the number back and identified myself. My voice was slow and uncertain. I was hoping that stating my name would make them say, “Oh, Mrs. Wetzel, we are so sorry, we have made a mistake.” It did not. I think the officer sensed my wishful thinking because his voice sharpened and he said, “Mrs. Wetzel, I need you to listen very carefully. This concerns your husband.” But I couldn’t listen carefully enough, I could only picture his body as his injuries were being listed: “… resulting in the loss of both the left and right legs… both right and left arms are broken… a traumatic brain injury… a break in his C-4 vertebrae…” He began reading the logistics of what would happen next. I didn’t cry, but I felt the mouthwatering, neck-tingling sensation of vomiting. I stared at the wall of my bathroom and told myself to inhale before I passed out. Just as his voice resurfaced in my cognition, he asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“Are you going to tell his parents, or do I have to?”
My mind was reeling, but somehow, I found myself thinking about our wedding, when I thought my life was full of cruel irony. Two weeks before our wedding, my fiancé was proudly showing off his battle scars on his face. All I could think about were the pictures. What good was an expensive tuxedo and hiring a photographer when the groom had a two-inch gash on the bridge of his nose next to an accompanying black eye?
We were breaking the bank for the wedding. I nearly lost my mind trying to get it all planned, and there was my fiancé, Josh, not only showing me his battle scar, but showing it off. He couldn’t help but grin when he shared how he made it
