We stood in the checkout line at Lowes. The kids grew tired of the wait and went to sit on a nearby bench. That is when I looked up and saw him coming toward me. As my eyes met his, I noticed a kind of calm urgency displayed on his face as he reached out his hand to grab hold of our cart. He wanted to be discrete, to not cause a scene. He needed my help. He was weak and out-of-breath. His cane quaked beneath him with each step and I quickly moved the cart toward him for support and we walked, the cart between us, to the bench where my kids were perched. I asked them to get up, so he could sit, and, of course, he told them he didn't want them to move on account of him. But, my look quickly told them otherwise, and thank goodness for those mama looks! I had seen this kind of desperate need for rest before, heard the rapid, gasping breaths of a man seeking a place to sit his aching body before it collapsed. He didn't need to say a thing because I recognized this dance. I had it done so many times before with my own grandfather, another proud man who suffered silently and never wanted to draw attention to his need for help. God knew I would see this man, notice his need. It was a divine encounter. I am sure of it.
As he sat down and caught his breath, he thanked me for my help and told me that he just needed to sit for minute, that his old ticker just wouldn't let him go too far anymore without stopping for a rest. He needed a riding cart and they were all taken, so he had to wait. So, there we sat, making small talk for a few minutes. And, let me just tell you that I stink at small talk, so the whole time in my head I am praying, "God, I believe this man is here for a reason and that I am supposed to talk to him. Please help me know what to say." It was then that I noticed his hat, which proudly displayed the word VETERAN across it. "I see that you are a Veteran," I said. "Thank you so much for your service to our country." He nodded his head in acknowledgment. In my curiosity, I continued, "Where all were you stationed?" At first, I thought he hadn't heard me and I was about to repeat the question, but as I looked a little closer, I noticed his bottom lip was quivering. My heart sank as he removed his glasses to wipe away the tears.
I could never have prepared myself for what he was going to say next. Just hearing his words shook me to the core. I can't imagine living through it. He began, his voice quivering, "I went places I didn't want to go, saw things I didn't want to see and did things I didn't want to do. If the American people only knew." He shared with me how he had been what was referred to as a "Tunnel Rat" in Vietnam. His job was to crawl through underground tunnels, about 3 feet in diameter, with nothing but a knife and kill enemy soldiers who lay in wait for him. He stood up for this next part, to protect the innocent ears of my children, and said quietly, "It was you against them, survival of the fittest, a fight to the death. Then, when you killed one, you had to tie a rope around their neck and drag them out the other side. After you got them out, you had to continue on into the next tunnel and do it all over again. Just imagine climbing over dead bodies and even having them dragged over you. How does a person ever get over that?" I swallowed hard and shook my head, "I can't even imagine", was all I could manage to eek out. To which he replied, "Well, I can imagine, but I still can't wrap my head around it, and I lived it. Then we came home with our country mad at us, and they couldn't understand why men were beating their wives and acting crazy. If they only knew." Now there were two of us standing there with aching hearts, longing for rest, but of a different kind. A rest for our souls, from the weariness, the pain, the cruelty of this world.
As Bobby searched for a riding cart to relieve this man's aching body, I searched for words to soothe his aching soul. "Help me God. What do I say?", I whispered in my heart. But, it wasn't about talking. It was all about listening. This man was desperate to be seen, to be heard, for someone to know his story. To know that it all still mattered, what he had been forced to live through all those years ago, in the name of freedom. It was a sacrifice like no other, because, although his physical body came
home alive and free, his mind, even today, is still being held captive in a prison that
he will never escape this side of eternity. Mine and your freedom cost him his. The prison of his mind flashes images that he can never stop seeing no matter how hard he tries, like a never-ending reel of an old horror film. But what did it matter? Does anyone even care? Has my life even mattered at all? I believe these are just a few of the questions this man was wrestling with that day, as his body was failing him and his heart was sick with memories past. And, I believe that God drew my attention to his hat because He wanted him to know that, yes, it all mattered very much. While I was desperately searching for words to fill the silence, God knew this man NEEDED to hear someone say "Thank you for your service to our country" because he was feeling like none of it even mattered at all. But, it does. It matters more than he will ever know.
I am so very grateful that God gave me the opportunity to have this brief encounter with a man who fought for my freedom, who gave it all, so my children can hang out safe and sound on a bench in Lowes while we check out, without a care in the world. Because he sacrificed it all, just like so many other brave men and women, we get to live free, and I am forever grateful. No matter what war he fought in, this man is a HERO because he laid down his life for us all. After all, God's very Word says, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13) And, the good news in all of this? This story already has a happy ending because this man knows Jesus is his Savior and shared with me the HOPE that is to come. Tapping his chest where his weary heart resides, he said with a smile, "But it'll all be over soon and I'll get to go home and be with my Father. It won't be long now." Typing this I am reminded of Hebrews 6:19 that says, "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." Oh, sweet hope! Here is a man who has survived unthinkable things, who is now trapped in a body that is failing him with a mind that won't let him forget. Yet through it all, he clings to his faith and the hope he has in Jesus. A beautiful example that by keeping our perspective eternal, we keep hope alive, no matter our circumstances.
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (Psalm 73.26)
We never did find that riding cart, but no matter, because it was never about his aching body anyway...
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