I was three the first time my father shipped out to Vietnam. That’s me, with the curly hair, the day he left the first time.

I know a thing or two about life in the Army. I know loyalty and mobility; how to say “Yes, sir!” in crisp and convincing tones, and how to spit shine a combat boot old school. And there are a lot of things I don’t know and some I never want to learn, like how jungle rot creeps in and takes over your feet or how the enemy makes his way into your dreams.

When Scott asked me to join their blog community, I had some reservations, after all I have plenty of limitations: I have never served in a war zone, I like my private life private, and I am terrified by the very sight of a gun.

And yet, I know for certain what happens when trauma and violence follow a soldier home, how it plays out, and what it means for family, friends, and the future.

And so here I am. Grown up child of the Army (don’t even think of coming at me with the “b” word!). Community organizer. Author of Welcome Home! How to Make a Difference in the Lives of Returning War Zone Veterans (see www.fpc.wa.gov/publications/welcomehome.pdf ). And now, apparently, blogger.

Community psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi says that we humans must experience both deep challenge and genuine support if we are to reach our full potential. Certainly the post-war zone turmoil I experienced within my own family generated profound challenges for me over the years. Fortunately, I have been blessed with a long line of teachers, coaches, friends, bosses and others who have lifted me up, inspired me and helped me grow through those experiences to a place of giving back. Mere mention of their names can bring a tear to my eye—Brian Fitzpatrick, Connie Boeding, Judge Linda Palmeri, Kris Bartanen, Tim Hansen, Laura Porter. Community counts and that is primarily what I will focus on as this blog unfolds.

And perhaps more than community, family counts. I am inspired to walk through this place of uncertainty by my parents; for all the post-traumatic struggles they faced over the years, they still insist that duty—doing the right thing—must come first. In this complex, shades-of-gray world, we don’t always agree what the right thing is, but we agree on this: healthy homecoming is of critical importance.

The window for healthy homecoming is generally tiny and open for only a few months. Any time that we-the-people-who-call-on-our-military-personnel-to-serve-in-the-war-zone miss the opportunity to support a smooth transition home, we have fallen short. More importantly however, a veteran, a family and their community will have suffered an immeasurable loss.

Each one of us—friends, family and neighbors, teachers, coaches and doctors, police, clergy and employers, military and civilian—has not only the opportunity, but the obligation to help. I hope you will join in the discussion of what is known, needed and yet to be discovered.