Soldiers with Chests

I read a C.S. Lewis quote recently that says “We make men without chests and expect from them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.” “In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function."

 

While a sad and accurate comment about today's society, I was pleased and relieved to see that there are those in our world who are still upholding the very best traits of humanity - honor, virtue and enterprise.  At this weekend's Departure Ceremony for the 1-189th Battalion's year-long deployment to southwest Asia, I saw nearly 300 men & women who answered their own inner pull to serve their country, even at the expense of their own comfort, future, families and possibly even their safety and lives.

  

And, I saw the families and friends of those soldiers who reluctantly, but fully, support them and their call to duty. 
 

Over 1000 people attended the ceremony (including the governor, AG, congressmen and others) and were a graphic and crystal clear example of G.K. Chesterton's words: "The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."  

 
Witnessing the depth of emotion both within my own heart and on the faces of those around us, proved that it is our commitment to our loved ones that drives us far more than any fear, hatred or misunderstanding of others.  Only the need to protect our loved ones and prove ourselves worthy can push us to make such sacrifices.

My heart was full - of sadness, of pride, of awe - for these soldiers with chests.

The Last Time

"I wish now that Last Times would come with big signs that say, "This the Last Time."  Then you would know that you should savor them, no matter how inconsequential they are. .... You might have stopped to just feel the moment, breathe it in, and let it get fixed in your memory like a Polaroid photograph.    The last time you rocked your baby to sleep..... The last time you tasted your grandmother's rhubarb pie.   The last time you kissed your father good night.  If you had known it was the last time, you would have closed your eyes and said to yourself, "I must remember this.  I must remember the smell of this kitchen and this coffee and this pie.  I must remember this scratchy flannel shirt and this smell of Old Spice. I must remember the feel of this downy head on my shoulder, and this milky breath and these tiny fingers curled around a blankie.  Instead, you rush on.  You think there will be a hundred other times, exactly like this one, and you look at your watch or mutter some annoyance or answer the phone or become distracted in some way.  You don't fix it in your mind; you don't stop, and you don't FEEL it.  Because why should you when there'll be other chances, and life is so busy, and there are so many things to do?  You'll savor it the next time, or maybe the time after that one.  You didn't realize at the moment that this - THIS would be the last time.  It wouldn't be coming around again.  And you missed it." - excerpt from Flash by Rachel Anne Ridge

I missed it... I missed THEM.  I feel like there's been a rash of losses recently.  Some minor, some not.  And, even though I tell myself daily to STOP - REMEMBER - SAVOR, it seems like I missed the important one.

We've lost three good friends recently.... We attended the first funeral last year.  And while funerals are inherently sad, what moved me to my core were the simple words "He was my friend" said by a mutual friend, with a depth of emotion that even now brings tears to my eyes.  He WAS our friend, and we enjoyed his company and knowledge - and yet we didn't truly KNOW him.  We didn't know that he'd been an expert in his field and an author of one of the pre-eminent and early books on elk.  And, we didn't know that the last time was The Last time.  We rushed off to whatever was of critical importance that day - and didn't get to visit one more time.

Then, just last month, Larry, a church elder, friend, leader and inspiration, crossed over suddenly one morning.  And again, the shock of it... we'd just seen him the night before!  He'd given us his ready smile and little laugh as we passed in the church kitchen.  But.. we didn't KNOW it was The Last Time.  We didn't stop to hug or visit or remember.  His funeral was sad also.. but with moments of levity as well.  And overflowing with those he'd touched - and again we realized that while we knew him - we hadn't KNOWN him.  We didn't know how much he'd loved fishing!  Or that he'd collected a certain type of glassware.  Or how handsome he'd looked in his uniform when he joined the Service.  Standing at his graveside, we truly felt the loss.  There is a vividness and truly visceral depth of emotion to a cemetery burial that seems to be missing or at least muted when "only" a memorial is held.

And now, again... a friend.  Mark - who had taught us and worked alongside us and who had finally given us the chance to do the work we loved, full time and set us firmly on the path we now follow.  I had called him last month, hoping to meet while we were in the area, but it didn't seem like a good time so we determined to wait until he visited this summer.  But, he won't visit this summer, and I won't be able to record some of his many memories of these mountains, or share our common stories or Thank him for his help way back then.  I didn't know that the last time, was The Last Time.

The obvious lesson is to treat every moment as if it's The Last Time... be kind to everyone, take time to really see them.  But, even more than just locking that moment into memory - ask questions.  If they are a friend - do I really know them?  Shouldn't I? Shouldn't I know what's important to them?  And share what's important to me?

So... if I see you on the street, or at the restaurant, or a special gathering - let's take time to really see each other - because we never know if it may The Last Time.