A Mother's Words About Combat PTSD That I'll Never Forget
- Trace Pirtle
- Jun 12, 2025
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 3, 2025
After my Memorial Day 2025 post, I received a text message that taught me more about combat PTSD than any awareness statistic ever could. It came from a mother who has spent decades awakening her husband from Vietnam nightmares and watching her son carry the weight of friends lost to war and suicide. Her words reminded me that some families don't just support our veterans—they become veterans themselves, fighting against an invisible vortex that threatens to pull them down as well.
Beyond "All Gave Some, Some Gave All"
Many existentialists believe we are ultimately alone as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. But followers of Jesus Christ know they are never walking alone—not on mountain peaks of elation, or the valley floor of sorrow, anxiety, and depression. You are never alone.
In my Memorial Day 2025 post, I echoed the words that all veterans and their loved ones know so well: "All gave some, some gave all." But I've always believed there needed to be an additional acknowledgment—"others gave more"—as a way of distinguishing those who honorably served and those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Combat-related PTSD falls into this category of giving more.
Perhaps you are one of the countless veterans who, now far from the jungles of Vietnam, the mountains of Afghanistan, the cities of Iraq, still walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Time and place mean nothing because dreams—night terrors—have no respect for past, present, or future time zones. They appear as uninvited intruders, holding you down, immobile, reminding you of things that couldn't have happened, but did.
A Text Message That I'll Never Forget
Since June is PTSD Awareness Month, I thought I'd share about a text message I received after my Memorial Day post—one that taught me something profound about the ripple effects of sacrifice.
The message came from my sister-in-law, Polly, responding to my Memorial Day reflection. She wrote to my wife, Rose:
"That article was very enlightening and uplifting. Trace captured the spirit of the holiday in a somber and yet positive manner honoring all those that gave some, more and all. God bless him. I have sent this on to Adam. He has lost many friends first in service and then several to suicide after service. He also has one friend that lost an arm, his sight and has brain damage due to an IED he was trying to disarm. Adam and Chris both have suffered from PTSD which they can learn to cope with but it truly never goes away. Thank you, Rose, for sharing this."
The Combat PTSD Ripple Effect
Polly's husband, Chris, is a Vietnam veteran. Her son Adam served in Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) (Bomb Squad!) during the War on Terror and continues this dangerous work as a civilian. In those simple sentences, she captured a truth that many don't understand: Combat PTSD is infectious, a whirlpool that draws everyone into its vortex. Mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children, and friends all suffer their own form of vicarious trauma.
But Polly wasn't finished. In a separate message, she shared photos of a pocket-sized Bible her Uncle John carried as an infantryman in World War II.
"It is not in pristine condition like the one in Trace's article. It is very well-worn seeing that he always carried it with him. You can tell that he must have read it often if not every day. When he was killed in service it was given to my mother, his younger sister, who was 16 at the time. When my mother passed away I found it and have kept it ever since."
What It's Really Like Living With Combat PTSD
It took me a week to process what God was showing me through Polly's words. Here was a woman who has lived alongside the invisible wounds of war for decades—awakening her husband from nightmares, watching her son carry the weight of lost friends, keeping safe a Bible that survived a war better than the man who carried it.
When Rose and I called Polly on her birthday, she told us more about what it's like to gently shake someone you love awake from horrors that replay in their dreams. What it means to see people you adore suffering from wounds that never fully heal. We are all affected to some degree, those closest and others on the family/friend periphery, but I believe mothers must experience suffering differently, perhaps even more intensely.
Finding God in Combat PTSD's Darkness
As she spoke, my mind wandered to another mother—Mary, standing at the foot of the cross. Could she even look up as her beloved son hung dying? What was the Father feeling as He watched His only begotten Son breathe His last breath? Again, we are offered hope in suffering, even in the darkest moments.
In Polly's simple text message, I recognized Divine Intervention. We don't always see God immediately when He shows up in our lives, but little by little our eyes are opened and His presence becomes unmistakable. Through this mother's heart, He was teaching me about the sacred weight that families carry, about the sacrifice that ripples through generations.
The Defiant Power of Hope in Combat PTSD
The late Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, wrote about the "defiant power of the human spirit"—the ability to find meaning in the face of suffering. Polly embodies this truth. She holds her uncle's battle-worn Bible while tending to her husband's Vietnam nightmares and her son's war memories. She's a keeper of sacred stories that must not be forgotten.
Life can be unfair. We can be battered and bruised, have our bodies blown and our minds blown along with them. Many conclude that life no longer has meaning or purpose, and the downward spiral from anxiety and stress into depression becomes the destiny for far too many. Suicide takes too many lives and leaves suicide survivors in its wake. But it doesn't have to be this way. There is hope.
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11)
I know it's not easy. But I remember a poster from long ago that read, "With God, life is stressful. Without God, it is infinitely more so." A little bit of faith goes a long way. God seems to know exactly what we need to hear or read when we need it—sometimes through the tender words of a mother who has walked through valleys most of us can't imagine.
Dawn always follows darkness, and God's Word reassures us:
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)
I salute the veterans who "gave more" and continue to give more. But I also honor the families who love them through the darkness—the mothers who wake them from nightmares, the children who learn to navigate around invisible wounds, the spouses who bear witness to battles that never really end.
Every veteran, loved one, and suicide survivor can call upon that defiant power of the human spirit. You can take a stand and offer a resounding "YES!" to life. I just know, from personal experience, that searching with faith is far easier than searching without it.
"He said to them, 'Because of your little faith, For truly I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.'" (Matthew 17:20)
Polly's simple text message became a Divine Appointment that will forever change how I see combat PTSD. Her words—spoken from a mother's heart that has refused to let the vortex win—reminded me that faith isn't just about moving mountains. Sometimes it's about standing firm when invisible forces threaten to pull your family down. Sometimes it's about being the "super glue" that keeps everyone attached to the reality of hope, even in the darkest valleys. That's the kind of faith that transforms not just individuals, but generations.
If you or someone you know is struggling with PTSD, please reach out for help. The Veterans Crisis Line is available 24/7 at 988, Press 1.
A special salute to our team member, Pam Fisk, whose son, LCPL Micah Shane Jones, left this world too soon. A mother's grief can be used to help other suicide survivors.
Related Posts:
Comments