Love with conditions

There are a lot of opinions flying around the interwebs about this Bergdahl mess. If you’re not sure what it is, in a nutshell, the Obama Administration has agreed to swap five, count them five, prisoners from Guantanamo in exchange for one prisioner, a Bowe Bergdahl. There are those who think this is a wonderful idea and those who think it a terrible idea. There are quite a few calling him a deserter and some even going so far as to say that he willingly assisted terrorists.

Let’s just get out of the way right now my take on this, minus the possibility of Bergdahl being all that they’re accusing him of: From a completely non-military, common sense standpoint, it’s kind of like with kids; If you let them get away with punching their brother once and even reward them for it, what’s to stop them the next time? And what’s to keep them from doing it harder and more often? It’s truly no different here. Especially when you figure that – and this is according to my husband who was deployed to Afghanistan – most of these people are lucky if they have the equivalent of a fourth or fifth grade education so, yeah, there’s not much difference to be found.

With that being said, I cannot fathom what Berghdal’s family has been going through. As a parent, I’m glad they got their son home, but from any other standpoint, this was a horrible mistake.

Sadly, I’ve seen some claim that, if this was their son, they’d disown him. I guess that’s something that I am unable to wrap my mind around. My love doesn’t have conditions. Even if I don’t approve of what my children are doing – and I frequently don’t when they’re being complete jerks – I still love them. My love for them doesn’t fluctuate based on my approval of them. Even if they should do something horrible like become serial killers or even, yes, betray their country, I would still love them. Love with conditions is not really love at all.